Page 80 of Black Bird

Nothing more …

The words rang in his head that they’d let hang in the silence as they’d slept that night. That invitation … that lingering question. Rhaena had said he already knew. She had been right. Sarah practically told him what he felt was reciprocated the night she laid on his chest. But would she still feel anything when he told her the heavy truth that had been weighing him down ever since he’d punctured her neck? He supposed he was about to find out.

“Sarah?” he called softly, making his way down the hall to the cracked doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m in here,” she replied. His heart thundered and he creaked the door the rest of the way open—God was surely punishing him. There she stood, hair still wet, running a fingertip over spines of books along his shelves in a black satin nightgown lined with lace that was cut mid-thigh. He nearly choked on his own oxygen. Poe ruffled his feathers on her shoulder, greeting him as he stood speechless in the doorway, his hand still on the knob. She turned her face toward him and smiled … those eyes … thosefuckingeyes. “Hey.”

Athan cleared his throat, dropping his hand and leaning in the doorway. “Hey.” He crossed his arms.

“You do know that you’re sitting on a gold mine, right?” She pointed at the bookshelf with her thumb. “You have so many first editions in here.”

“I’m a collector. Don’t tell anyone and it’ll remain a gold mine.” He smirked. Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, turning back toward the books.

“You gonna try to tell me you haven’t read every single one?”

“No, I have. Most of them several times.” He watched her skim across titles, moving up a shelf to where the figurine he’d bought from Wren’s tattoo shop sat in front of a cluster ofreallyold books. She scooted it over and pulled a worn, black leather binding with no title. His stomach flipped.

“Do you mind if I read one or two? I’ll be careful.” She handled the delicate book carefully and he swallowed, nodding his response. She flipped it open, her eyes widening when she glanced at the aged, yellowed parchment on the inside. “Holy shit … this is handwritten.” She glanced up. “What is this?”

Athan shrugged, dismissing it and stepping into the room toward his dresser, turning his back and opening the third drawer to gather clean clothes. “You should read it.” He hardly registered what he was doing as he peeled the shirt over his head and tossed it into the basket by the closet door. She went wholly still behind him. Athan gripped the small pile of clothes in his hand, a deep nervous feeling sinking into his middle when he remembered what was tattooed on his breast. He tried to appear calm and tipped his chin over his bare shoulder. “Sorry … I wasn’t—” He swallowed. “Wasn’t thinking.” He could feel her scanning every inch of his naked back.

“No, umm … this is your room. Your house. I’ll give you some privacy.” Sarah’s voice shook and she made to move toward the bedroom door.

“Wait—” He paused … so did she. Poe trilled. “You can um … you can stay.” He side-stepped to the bathroom door just beside the dresser and walked in, closing it behind him. He turned the fan on and loosed a long breath, pulling his hands through his hair and leaning back against the door. He thought about every possible angle of approaching this blow. This blow that would no doubt take her from him. Thought about it as the water ran over him in the shower. Thought about the possibility that when he delivered that blow, there was likely a chance she’d never join him in here. If he let her see the tattoo, it would raise questions … maybe he could ease into it that way.

Maybe he could just get the shock of it over with and grab one of those blood bags. Empty it into his mouth in front of her and answer all the burning questions after she was scared enough to run from him. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to see the look on her face. The pain in those gorgeous eyes at every betrayal of the trust they were slowly building. As selfish as it was … he thought about kissing her. What if that was the only time she’d ever let him? Athan toweled off and talked himself out of exposing his chest, his white t-shirt and black sweats revealing only what she’d already seen of him. He stepped back out of the bathroom, steam rolling out with him.

Sarah was stretched out across the bed, laying on her stomach and sucked deeply into the small black book. Poe had found himself choosing the perch stand Athan had in the corner by the floor lamp. “Listen to this,” she said without looking up, both her bare feet crossed in the air behind her.“There was no greater evil, than the darkness of this night … when life was yet a whisper as that evil thieved the light. But my skin was still a prison … a bird denied his flight.”Her slender inked finger trailed across the words on the page and her body slumped, her busy feet slowly falling back to the duvet. She stared down at it … he stared at her.

“As the sun took back its triumph over waves that churned the sea … it was then I thought I heard her as Death whispered then to me … be dark, my lonely captive … until the murder sets you free.” He dropped his dirty clothes into the basket on the floor and she met his eyes.

“This is …” Sarah paused, reading his face. His heart thrashed. “This isyours.” He nodded slowly, his jaw clenching. “It’s so … sad.”

“Sarah … I—” He swallowed, feeling as if he could vomit. “I’m …” His breathing staggered and he knew she’d noticed it. He had to get it out now before he couldn’t do it at all. She closed the journal and slid it aside, moving off the bed and stepping toward him. He raised a shaking hand to stop her, but before he could even form another thought Sarah slid her hands on each side of his face and her mouth met his … strong, and yet gentle. Demanding … but perfect. Slow … thorough … fuckingperfect. She lingered on his mouth, his chest heaving up and down. Adrenaline warred with a calm he’d never felt before in his life. They shared shaking breaths and stared into each other for a heartbeat that seemed like an eternity.

“I don’t care what it is, Athan.” Sarah breathed against his mouth. “If this is all you can give me right now, I’ll take it. If this is all iteveris, I’ll take it.”

The tether he’d been clinging to snapped. He wrapped an arm around her waist, taking the side of her face in his other hand and kissing her back, deeply. So deep he thought he’d drown in her—and die happily. He was sure he’d lose all control when he tasted her tongue as it slipped into his mouth, and while every part of him wanted to, he found himself absolutely content with not ripping off that lacy night thing and burying himself inside her perfect body. Athan pressed her closer to him, devouring every part of her mouth, her jawline … her mostly healed neck where a dark scar was left behind.

Her fingers twined through his hair, gently tugging and she whimpered a bit when he kissed over the mark she had no idea he’d claimed her with. He wouldn’t take her tonight. He may never take her at all. At least he’d had this, and at least there was control enough within him to make this last however long she wanted it to. His hands braced her thighs, and he lifted her up, Sarah’s arms and legs coiling around him as he walked them over to his bed and laid her down beneath him. She held his face, and he pressed his head against hers, their breathing frantic and shallow.

“I can’t go much further …” He rasped, pained and breathless.

“This is more than enough,” Sarah assured, leaning up to kiss him again. They continued that way for a couple of hours … maybe it was more. Maybe it had only been five minutes. He didn’t care anymore. All he knew right now was the feel of her body, her hands up his shirt, the taste of her … the way she felt under his palms, her scent … that smart mouth.

As they finally laid facing each other, legs tangled and bodies pressed together, Athan pressed a kiss to her palm as she trailed across his bottom lip with her thumb. Their eyes finally met, and they fell into a different kind of stare. One they’d never shared before now. “Until the murder sets you free …” Sarah whispered, tracing the lines of his face. His fingers grazed over her wrist, and he dropped his eyes to her neck. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean actualmurder?”

“Because I didn’t.”

She quieted for a moment, leaning into his touch as he splayed his hand across her lower back. “A bird denied his flight … it’s a murder of crows.”

He took a long moment before answering. “Yes.”

“A prison …” She pulled him closer, his face resting beneath her chin. “Crows gather and decide the fate of one of their own.”

“Sarah …” Athan whispered against her skin, lightly kissing it, and tightening his arms around her. He closed his eyes, breathing her in … and left them closed.

“Whoever hurt you … I’ll never let them do it again,” she breathed. Athan smiled against her.

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