Page 92 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

Indignation shook me.

How dare he?

How the fuck dare he shut me up!

“Keep quiet, Sparrow.” He gave me a shake, pivoting me around to face him. “Do you hear me? No screaming.”

Muffled by his hand over my mouth, my screams of protest came out only as whimpers and groans.

He moved his other hand to the back of my head and fisted it into my hair. The sting at my roots only fed my anger. I kicked him in the shin.

He flinched but wouldn’t let go of me.

“Listen.” He gave me another shake, as if he could shake me into obedience. “Listen to me.”

His eyes burned with the reflection of the glow from the pale flowers in the vines that climbed up the arches and over the garden path where Voron had dragged me to.

“Under the threat of death, no one is allowed to enter the Garden of the Cursed,” he gritted through his teeth. “Do you realize I’ll have to report you, now? I’ll have to plan and organizeyourexecution? I’ll have to watchyoubeing impaled on a spike?”

His hands remained firm but his voice shook slightly. He jerked my head closer, his eyes flicked between mine.

“I’ll have to watch you die.” His voice dropped, sounding soft like the rustle of a breeze on the vines above us.

His grip in my hair relaxed, but he didn’t remove his hand, cradling my head. I stopped fighting him, and he dropped his hand from my mouth.

I panted, overwhelmed by his words and his closeness.

“Will you, Voron?” I whispered. “Will you kill me to serve your king?”

I waited for his answer, my breathing slowing. His gaze dipped to my lips, then slid back up to my eyes with a caress over my entire face.

“Sparrow…” My name came from him like a moan.

He inhaled deeply, bringing me closer. Our foreheads touched. He slid his head down, the side of his face brushing against mine. Then I felt the press of his lips on my skin just below my ear—a kiss.

Here, under the double coverage of the night and the arches with flowers, Voron finally shed the armor he’d been hiding behind all this time.

My skin tingled under his lips. Warmth scattered through my body with sparks of desire.

“You aren’t mine,” he growled and added firmly, “but I saw you first.”

His mouth descended on mine, robbing me of breath. Awareness rolled through me with a swell of bliss as our lips connected. I swayed in his arms, gripping his cloak just to stay upright. With his hand fisted in my hair, he angled my head to claim my mouth more thoroughly.

My heart pounded wildly. And Voron’s resonated in response, beating against my hand I splayed on his chest.

I’d only been kissed by one man before that I remembered—by the king. And Voron’s kiss was everything the king’s wasn’t. I was hardly aware of his tongue parting my lips, barely realizing I was kissing him back. My mind floated somewhere warm and fuzzy. My entire body appeared to join it there, too.

Another blood-curdling howl pierced the air, jolting me to my senses. There was no escape from the garbled screams of the tormented girl. The tender feelings melted away, crushed by the harsh reality.

Voron was right. I wasn’t his. I belonged to a man who sent people to death by torture. And Voron was his head executioner. The man who took my breath away was the right hand of a tyrant.

I shrank away from him.

“I’m not yours. I don’t want to belong to anyone. Definitely not to a man who kills and tortures people. Or to the one who does it for him.”

Another ragged scream tore through the night, invading our hiding spot under the flowers.

“Why does she have to suffer, Voron?” I gripped the lapels of his coat, displacing his carefully tucked and pinned black cravat. “Why for this long? What purpose does it serve other than cruelty? How can you allow this?” I shoved at his shoulders, but he wasn’t ready to let me go, flexing his arms tighter around me.

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