Page 73 of Claws of Death

Heat flares in his gaze as I fidget under his touch, his fingers sliding an inch up my thighs.

“If I don’t stand up now, I won’t leave this room before I’ve fucked you raw.”

I whimper, my core melting at the mere thought of what he suggested. I’m ready to entertain the idea, daring him to try, when a rough knock followed by Herinor’s grumpy voice stops me from doing something I might regret. “Time to go!”

Myron’s gaze doesn’t leave mine, but the desire living there a moment ago has been carefully tucked away when he slowly stands, one hand lingering just above my knee until the last possible moment while the other is keeping his towel from slipping. I don’t dare lower my gaze when he drops it to reach for the pair of pants draped over the backrest of the chair and slips into them.

Ayna

Tata isthere when we arrive at the arena, her braid bobbing as she shakes her head at something Silas asks. I try not to notice Royad’s smirk or Herinor’s frown or the way Kaira seems to be eternally amused about whatever Herinor just grumbled to her.

At least, she’s not paying attention to us. Everyone else sure is, and I can’t help the feeling they all know exactly how close I was to ripping Myron’s towel off myself and doing exactly as Clio suggested a few days ago. Somehow, I’m under the impression they cansmellit on me.

“We haven’t figured out shifting, so you all better get lost until we call you back.” Myron plants himself at the heart ofthe arena, shooting Herinor a deadly glance that would have sent lesser males running.

To his credit, Herinor inclines his head at his king before gesturing for Kaira to walk ahead of him and following. Royad raises a brow at Myron as he walks out next, leaving Silas and Tata the only ones dwelling.

“You, too, Silas.” Myron doesn’t even look at him, gaze wandering to Tata instead and tone softening. “Apologies, Tata, but I need you to leave, too. I want this to be a safe place when my mate shifts.”

Tata inclines her head, but a question lingers on her tongue—I can tell by the way her eyes bounce between Silas, Myron, and me.

“What is it, Tata?” I eventually ask.

Tata gives me an embarrassed look. “I’ve never seen a Crow shift. The older fairies keep telling stories about the fearsome monsters shifting into feathered coats, but I wasn’t old enough to fight in the last Crow War.”

A part of me believes that’s good news. At least, she never knew the Crows for the creatures most fairies feared. At least, not in person.

“You’re welcome to return and watch as we all shift later,” Silas offers, but something inside of me pushes to tell her to stay.

“I’ve never shifted deliberately. I might not even be able to, but you’re welcome to stay, Tata,” I explain as we wait for a grumbling Silas to leave on his own.

Myron claps his hands, obviously not happy about the audience, but doesn’t comment, accepting my wish. “Youcan sit over there,” he tells her. “Don’t disturb us, though. Crows in bird form rely on their instincts more than in our fae form. If you startle a new Crow and she takes flight, she might take off and never return.”

I hope he’s only saying that to frighten her because, chances are, if that’s the worst case, exactly that will happen to me.

When Myron turns to face me, a smile graces his lips, and his gaze is warm and tender in a way that gives me a fuzzy feeling. “Don’t fly away, little crow,” he whispers as he holds out both his hands for me.

With a sense of nervous anticipation, I place mine in them, waiting for instructions.

“How did you shift the first time?”

His question takes me by surprise, and I’m not prepared for the images of horror flooding my head.

“I don’t know. It happened when I begged the gods for a way to save you.” It’s a dim memory, Myron’s blood coating the metal table in Erina’s dungeon, the knife at my arm, the pain… So much pain.

“How did you change back?”

Herinor’s firm but gentle hands wrapped around my little bird body, imagining my human form. Willing myself back into it…

“Think of the wind beneath your wings, Ayna. Think of freedom.”

That’s the opposite of what I experienced the last time I shifted. “Freedom is something I haven’t known for a long time.”

The words hurt. Perhaps even more so because they are true.

Myron squeezes my hands, strong fingers enveloping mine, and steps up so close we’re chest to chest. “You’re free, Ayna. No matter what bonds may hold you, you’re always free to make a choice.”

I feel it then, the question whether I’d prefer to sever our bond, to do as Clio tried with Tori.Do you want me to let you go, Ayna?

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