Page 351 of Evil Hearts

Her talons scored into the skin of my hips, and I arched into her touch, aching for more. Her eyes, those glowing, mesmerizing orbs, held mine as she rode me, her breath mingling with my own in a dance as old as time.

I felt the tension coiling inside me, a storm that threatened to break free. Her wings enveloped us, blocking out the world, and I was swallowed by the sensation of her—her scent, her heat, the intoxicating song that poured from her lips as she moaned and screamed.

I reached up to touch her face, my fingers tracing the sharp lines of her cheekbones, her jaw, the softness of her lips. She was a creature of contradictions, a being of beauty and terror, and in that moment, she was mine as much as I was hers.

Her song took on a new intensity, a melody that seemed to pulse through my very soul. I could feel the bond between us, a connection that was both unbreakable and as delicate as the finest thread. It was a moment of surrender, of raw and unbridled need, and when I finally let go, it was with a cry that seemed to echo through the cavernous lair.

Her movements slowed, her body shuddering against mine as she rode out the waves of her own release. She collapsed against me, her wings folding around us like a living cloak, her breath hot against my neck.

We lay there in the aftermath, the echoes of our passion still reverberating through the air. The Harpy lifted her head, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that spoke of things yet to come.

“You are mine,” she whispered, her voice a low, throaty purr that sent shivers down my spine. “Now and forever.”

Chapter 5

The cottage lookedsmaller than I remembered. The thatched roof sagged slightly, and the smoke curling from the chimney was faint, almost hesitant, like it had been waiting too long for someone to come home. My boots crunched against the gravel path as I approached the door, and I paused, my hand resting on the worn wood.

It felt strange to be here. To be back after everything.

The bond pulsed faintly in my chest, a steady, rhythmic reminder of her—of the Harpy. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was like a thread wound tight around my heart, tugging gently with every beat, pulling me back to where she waited.

But I pushed it aside. For now.

I opened the door, the familiar creak echoing through the quiet house. “Ma?” I called out, my voice cracking slightly.

Her voice came from the bedroom, weak but clear. “Locke? Is that you?”

I dropped my pack by the door, the sound of it hitting the floor barely registering as I crossed the room in a few quick strides. My chest tightened the moment I saw her. She was sitting up in bed, her face pale and her breathing shallow, every movement weaker than I remembered.

The sight of her hit harder than I’d expected. She looked... smaller somehow, more fragile, like the time I’d spent away had chipped away at what little strength she had left. Guilt clawed at my chest, sharp and unrelenting. I should’ve been here. I should’ve found a way to fix this sooner.

But then her eyes lit up when she saw me, a faint spark of life breaking through the haze of exhaustion. “You’re back,” she said, her voice trembling.

And just like that, the weight in my chest shifted. Relief, raw and unsteady, fought its way through the guilt. Everything I’d endured to get here, everything I’d given up—it was all worth it if I could save her.

“I told you I’d come back,” I said, forcing a smile as I knelt beside her. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small vial the Harpy had given me, along with the necklace I’d fashioned with one of her feathers, its edges shimmering faintly with an otherworldly light.

“This will help,” I said, holding up the relic. “It’s not just the concoction—it’s this, too. The feather holds the magic. You’ll need to wear it.”

She looked at the vial and necklace, her brow furrowing slightly. “What is it?” she asked, her voice soft.

“It’s... complicated,” I said. “But it will work. Just trust me.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she took the necklace. I slipped it over her head, and the feather rested against her chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I uncorked the vial and held it to her lips. “Drink,” I said. “All of it.”

She hesitated but obeyed, the dark liquid sliding down her throat in a single swallow. Her face twisted at the taste, and she coughed, clutching at the necklace. “Locke—” she started, but then her body stiffened, and a shudder ran through her.

I froze, panic clawing at my chest, but then the color began to return to her face. Her breathing steadied, her trembling stopped, and she blinked up at me, her eyes wide with wonder.

“I feel...” She paused, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I feel better. I feel... alive.”

Relief washed over me, so strong it left me lightheaded. I sank back on my heels, my hands trembling. “I told you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I told you I’d fix this.”

She reached out, her hand brushing against my cheek. “You did,” she said. “But, Locke... what did it cost you?”

By breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t expecting her to justknow. But then, she was my mother—she always knew me best. I looked away, the bond tightening again, a silent reminder of what waited for me. “It doesn’t matter,” I said finally. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said softly, her voice sharper now. “What did you give up?”

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