Page 118 of Black Bird

“As flattered as I am, Wren, I’m taking the couch.” Athan smirked, opening the small closet across from the end of Rhaena’s bed. Any retort or snarky response Wren had prepared was choked off by her surprise when they both looked at the chains and the claw marks inside the closet space.

“Oh, my God … Rhaena …” Sarah breathed, pressing her hand to her chest. Rhaena turned and glanced first at the closet, and then to both her and Wren, who said absolutely nothing. “You chain yourself up like this?” Rhaena’s expression softened at Sarah’s concern.

“It’s not as heinous as it looks, Sarah. Don’t worry about me. We’ve come up with different ways over the years to make sure I’m nailed down and don’t hurt anyone. That’s why I come up here on full moons. It’s far enough away to drown me out and there really aren’t any residents here. Mostly just vacation homes that sit empty near the lake until the summer months, and even then, it’s not especially busy here.”

“So … your retreat … to train. This is why you were so banged up that night you came back.” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”

Rhaena reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” she started. Sarah met her eyes. “The first time I ever transitioned, I was twelve. I’m okay, Sarah, and I’m used to it. It’s not as bad as it seems. I promise. I’m really okay.” She offered a tight smile. “I do appreciate it, though. More than you can understand.” Athan’s eyes raised up in the corners as if he were beaming with gratitude. Sarah supposed Rhaena really had no one else to confide in or show her concern for her well-being. The fact that they used to sleep together was beside the point. She knew he did care for her, and it was obvious that it was more in a way that Sarah cared for Wren, who surprisingly remained silent as she set Denver’s carrier on the bed and let him out.

“Can we make a fire?” Wren asked, scratching behind Denver’s twitching ears as he sniffed around the covers.

“I’ll do it,” Athan offered, stepping around Sarah and gliding through the doorway. Rhaena took Poe’s cage from Sarah’s hand and followed him into the living room. She cleared off a small hutch along the wall and set him on top of it before turning back to them.

“The three of us can fit on the bed. Sheets and blankets are clean. I make sure to keep up with all of that every time I leave. It’ll be a snug fit, but we’ll manage. If it doesn’t work out, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Just like a dog,” Wren snickered. Athan snorted from the living room while he placed wood in the fireplace.

“Keep it up, you two. You’ll find yourselves sleeping on the front porch likedogs,” Rhaena spat, storming into the kitchen. Sarah couldn’t help but laugh as she shrugged her jacket off. She bent down to open her bag in the closet and got distracted by the chains again. As she knelt down, she trailed her fingertip through the deep claw marks along the inside, and then across the heavy chains that were secured onto a well-built anchoring on the back wall. She couldn’t help but be a little curious about it all but didn’t feel like it was the right time to ask questions as they’d only just arrived there and hadn’t unpacked a thing. A sharp edge along one of the links sliced into her finger and Sarah cursed under her breath, jerking her hand back and hissing.

Wren turned toward her. “What’d you do?” she asked, putting Denver down and stepping over. Not seconds later, Athan paused at the fireplace and his face jerked toward them—a familiar darkness taking over his blue eyes. Sarah glanced down at her bloody finger and her mouth dropped open in panic.

“Shit … Athan, I’m sorry …” Sarah breathed, finding no other quick option than to stick her finger in her mouth. It must have been the wrong choice. His breathing went rogue, and the whites of his eyes disappeared as he ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair and stood up. Rhaena rushed around the corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking between them with a carton of broth in her hand. Athan said nothing, and quickly saw himself out the front door to go pace on the porch. Rhaena sniffed and realized without much direction that she was bleeding.

“I’m sorry …” Sarah apologized again, standing.

“Don’t. He’ll be fine. Come in here, I’ve got bandages in the cabinet somewhere.” Rhaena didn’t make any fuss over it, and Sarah followed her into the kitchen.

“As many bodies as you guys see, I’m assuming this happens often?” Sarah asked.

“Actually, no,” Rhaena replied, rummaging through every cabinet. “As weird as this is to say out loud … dead blood doesn’t make him feral. You’re actively bleeding, it’s different. He’ll calm down. Just give him a couple minutes.” She turned around with a box of bandages and plucked one out.

“Dead blood?” Sarah quirked a brow.

Rhaena wrapped a bandage around Sarah’s finger and nodded. “Yeah. Think of it like blood that’s in a bag. This here is fresh. The scent drives him crazy. Might be a little more worse for wear out there because it’s—” she paused and glanced up at her.

“Because it’s mine?” Sarah finished. Rhaena dropped her eyes back down to the bandage and slowly nodded. The conversation reminded her of what she had stashed in her duffle. “Oh … Rhaena?”

“Hmm?”

“That blood bag … I—I brought it with me.” Sarah admitted, earning an uneasy look from her host.

“Gross.” Rhaena smirked. “Go grab it and stick it in the fridge. Please tell me it’s covered up or something.”

“I put it in a box of frozen waffles.” Sarah shrugged.

“What?” Wren barked from the living room—holding said box of waffles. “Eew!” The box dropped, flopping open and the blood bag slid out, sticking halfway out of the paper towel she’d wrapped it in … and just in time for Athan to walk back into the house.

It had nearly knocked the breath from him. The scent of the blood that practically called to him. The same blood that he’d shamefully stolen from her and started this entire disaster. Emotions had run high the day that she’d sliced her feet open in the kitchen, and he was able to push through it then, as he had quite a bit to distract him … but right now. Right now, he was dying to touch her, and dying to be touchedbyher. Right now, she was toeing the line of making the decision to let him back in or telling him to fuck right off. Right now, there was still so much unsaid between them, and they were about to be stuck without any good reason not to talk about it for God only knew how long. He’d have to get himself together.

Athan paced across the porch as darkness crept through the woods and over the cabin, the crisp smell of dry leaves and cold air replacing the tang of Sarah’s blood—which still left his body trembling at how badly it desired another taste. He stepped down into the yard, taking deep breathsand slowly feeling the bloodlust receding. Once he felt like he’d gathered himself enough, he made his way back to the cabin, opening the door just as Wren yelped and dropped a box of God knows what on the floor. His brows lowered when he caught a glimpse of something he’d recognize if he was blind—a blood bag. In a paper towel. Athan raised his face toward all three of them, shutting the door behind him. They all stood deadly still and stared at him, speechless. He stepped forward, bending over and picking the bag up from the floor. It was hers.

“Sarah, what is this?” he asked, holding the bag out in front of him and peering at her under his brows.

“You know what? Why don’t you guys bundle up and go sit out on the porch. Me and Wren will make some coffee and start something up for dinner,” Rhaena offered, reaching for the bag. “Give it to me. I’ll put it away.” He handed it over, and Sarah stared at him for a moment while Wren nudged her on her way past. Denver followed her into the kitchen.

“Come on,” Sarah said, walking to the couch and taking a blanket that was folded on the arm. She wrapped it around herself and stepped past him, opening the door and turning back to look at him when he didn’t follow her. “You coming?”

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