Page 74 of Claws of Death

It’s only when I tilt my head to meet his gaze that I realize he spoke those words out loud. And in his eyes, the world is holding his breath.

I don’t have words to tell him, so I grasp his hands harder, holding onto him with all that I have, and a cautious smile spreads on his lips. “Then shift with me, Ayna. Fly with me. Befreewith me.”

I feel the tingle in my chest first, then my arms. My legs follow, falling away from me as they turn into small bird feet. Feet with wicked claws that could scratch out eyes and open arteries. My torso is light, small, and airy, as are my arms as I try to keep my hold on Myron. Feathers slip over feathers, our wings coming apart as we beat them to remain mid-air. Magic pulses in my veins, smaller and weaker than in my human form, but it fills me beak to claw.

He was right. Instincts rule my bird form. I need to move; remaining stagnant is dangerous even if I’m a predator. With a few efficient beats of my wings, I’m up in the air, high above the arena. Tata sits on the side of the angled structure at the foot of the stone benches, staring up at mewith wide dark eyes. It amazes me that I can see such detail from so high up, but it doesn’t surprise me. Those senses are part of me the way the wings are and the tiny heart pumping my blood in frantic beats.

This body is breakable but fast, vulnerable but light. I’m the eyes and the ears of the sky, and a few feet above me, another crow is circling, this one larger, feathers so black they swallow the light of the sun hiding behind clouds. He caws at me, the sound familiar yet foreign. A part of me wonders if I could understand him if I tried hard enough, but then I see something move on the ground. It’s smaller than me, and fast.

I’m faster.

I’m death wrapped in feathers, and my claws rip into the mouse a heartbeat before it skitters through the gap between two rocks. Victory makes my blood gush through my veins in a frenzy, and I want to take my trophy to the skies, but I’m not fast enough to pull up as the wall approaches at neck-breaking speed, and I have to resort to bracing myself for the impact—impacts—when I first hit the stone enclosing the arena, then the ground, and roll to a halt.

Someone shouts my name, heavy footfalls shaking the packed earth I’m lying on. I’m shaking. My wings at first, then my legs, then my shoulders and my torso. My arms, my hands.

“Myron,” I croak, still breathless from the crash.

He skids to a halt beside me, on his knees again as he scoops me up in his arms.

“I’m all right,” I tell him.

He doesn’t believe me until I wriggle out of his grasp, scrambling to my own two feet and cursing as I realize my clothes are gone.

“Damn it.”

With two quick moves, Myron peels off his jacket and strips out of his shirt, offering it to me.

“Clio will kill me.” I’m not half as embarrassed about Tata seeing me naked as I am about what Clio will say when she realizes she will need to get new leathers for me after all.

When I dare glance at him, Myron shoots me a wicked grin. “The good news is you shifted in and out of your bird form.”

“What’s the bad news?”

He raises both brows as if to ask whether that isn’t obvious.

“That I’m naked?”

“I wouldn’t count that as bad news,” his grin widens. “At least, not for me.”

Groaning my frustration, I tug the shirt over my head and roll my eyes. “So, what’s the bad news?”

Myron turns his head, glancing at the entrance to the arena. “That I will need to start a new war, hurting the King of Askarea for having seen my mate naked.

He’s obviously joking because Recienne doesn’t summon his power to destroy him as he steps into the arena, clapping his hands. “That went faster than expected. And your wound is looking much better, Ayna. Did you notice?”

Myron grinds his teeth but doesn’t draw his sword or wield his silver power.

“I’m happily mated, Myron. Hold your feathers.” Recienne laughs at his own joke, but he can’t fool me anymore after meeting his mate this morning and realizing he’s just as much a protective shit as any other fairy male.

Folding my arms across my chest, I stand at Myron’s side. Of course, Myron’s gaze lingers on my shoulder, where not one tug or numb place remains. I don’t want to look if it’s all healed. Askarean fairies can lie after all and I’m not ready to be disappointed, but I cock my head, staring the golden-eyed male down with bravado. “You’ll make for an interesting father.”

Recienne stops dead, all masks slipping as he puts two and two together. “When did you meet her?”

“We had breakfast together this morning.”

The confused expression on Myron’s face would have been amusing had this not been a moment I realize that, with everything going on, I forgot to share this knowledge with him. Shame fills me from head to toe. We might not be exactly where we were two weeks ago, but I don’t want to leave him in the dark. I don’t want him to be taken by surprise in front of someone he has such a complicated history with. I don’t want him to look weak.

On instinct, I grab Myron’s hand, ignoring the sizzle running up my arm when his palm slides against mine.

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