Page 4 of Wings of Desire

I dive again, and her yell pierces the air. Instantly, the forest’s illumination intensifies, bathing us in light. We fly low, skimming the ground so close that if I reach out, I could feel the grass on my fingers.

Glancing down, I spot a warrior with a massive wingspan charging towards us. I smack the side of a tree with my palm, urging theAmae’silto attack. They lash out, wrapping around the warrior behind me. In a gruesome display, two vines on opposing sides tear off his arms, feeding it into its ravenous mouth.

The rustling of the trees drowns the warrior’s scream. The small thing in my arms clutches on to me tighter, whimpering in fear. I feel concern bubble up in my gut for her. It must be utterly terrifying to see the viscera of another man, splattered among the trees.

I thread my fingers through her coiled hair, astonished by its softness. “Shh, quiet now. We must go.”

Touches

The mothman clutches me tightly to his chest, pressing my head against him so I can’t see the horrors around us. The forest echoes with screams of agony. I don’t have time to fully grasp the chaos until we’re soaring through the air again.

We land, but he doesn’t release me. His chest rises and falls heavily from our quick retreat. I can feel his heart pounding through his ribcage. “Mejan pitas turzassa nyit,” he whispers, his voice is soothing.

I can’t understand him, but curiosity gets the better of me again. Earlier when I touched his wing, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Now there’s a tiny part of his wing just under his arms within my reach. I give it a gentle poke and then rub it with my thumb. His reaction is immediate and his grip on me tightens. His back straightens and his wings pull in closer to his body.

He draws in a sharp breath before a hand jerks my head back by the ponytail. “Vittar otoki. Aalkos miniesla!” His intense white eyes bore into mine, shimmering violently. A shiver rushes down my spine.

The scent from earlier grows stronger and heady. He bends down towards my neck and then deeply inhales. A low,sultry hum resonates in his throat. He whispers something unintelligible against my skin that I can’t make out. The feel of his breath on my neck makes me shiver in anticipation. As his arm slides down to grip my ass with fierce possession, I do understand that. He’s turned on by me.

“Wait—I—” I stammer as his tongue flicks out against my neck.

I moan, and my pussy throbs with desire. The desperate groan he makes as his hands tighten their grip should concern me; instead, it simmers under my skin like fire.

One of his free hands splays against my ass under my skirt. It slowly inches toward the ache that burns just between my thighs. When he finds my underwear, he roughly tugs them aside. A finger runs along my slit, coating it in my wetness.

I moan at the feeling of his fur covered fingers.

“Halako sin mina otoki?” His rich voice purrs against my neck, and I whimper.

I don’t know what he’s saying, and I don’t care. I just want him inside me. Long feathers grip at the front of my bare hips, clutching me to him. I realize it’s attached to each side of his groin. They tickle my skin, leaving behind in their wake a deliciously warm sensation.

He peppers kisses at my collarbone, and his tongue licks at me, tasting my skin. A long, slender finger presses against my waiting core, and I melt into him. The scent of his pheromones is so strong that I can taste the flavor on my tongue. As his finger finally enters me, I keen out a depraved sound. Shockingly, I’m suddenly canting my hips forward against something long, hard, and wet.

Glancing down, I can hardly see between our bodies. However, I can see the long frilled-looking tentacles that still dance around my waist. It looks like little feather dusters, and there are four of them that have gripped hold of me.

“Please.” I whisper as the finger inside fills me up.

The mothman grumbles something unintelligible before pulling his finger out of my throbbing pussy and sticking it in his mouth. I whine at the loss of him as he lets me go.

He straightens up, his breathing is nothing but ragged gasps. I’m focused entirely on him. The long, white, feathered tendrils retreat into his pouch along with something dripping bright green.

The mothman wipes a hand over his face as if to compose himself. His expression is a mix of exasperation and something else I can’t place. “En voa, ien vila.”

I sigh in disappointment that it’s over so quickly. I shuffle my tattered skirt back around me and cover my breasts again with my blouse.

Glancing at him, I notice a pained expression that pulls his lips into a frown and knits his brows together. “Et todellaken teida milla peela,” he murmurs, though there is a tone of frustration there while he pats my head gently.

“I wish I could understand what you’re saying.”

Instead, I’m answered without a verbal reply. He pulls me back into his firm grip. Then he steps off the branch without a word, and we’re airborne again. The wind is the only noise as we soar through the glowing trees.

The bog

We fly for ages at a more leisurely pace. This gentler speed is a relief, calming the somersaults in my stomach.

Eventually, we descend, and I catch a whiff of something foul long before we land. The air is thick with a sour, rank odor that reminds me of the trash compactor on the ship. It lingers like a cloud everywhere, making my nose wrinkle up.

The moth sits me down on a more slender limb that’s barely wide enough for our feet. As I look down, I notice it’s covered in a carpet of moss. Below us, a sprawling swamp shimmers like the stars. The roots of tall grass peek through the water. I see skinny pale pink trees with large menacing spines growing around and inside the bog. At the center of the swamp stands a massive tree, its long tendrils dip into the water, moving in the wind. It creates ripples on the enormous lily pads that float around its base.

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