Page 82 of Fated

“Me …” His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.

“Again …” He whispered in my ear before his hands slid down and playfully tickled my sides, making me shriek and jerk away from his touch.

But before I could escape, he scooped me up effortlessly, cradling me to his chest just as massive black wings erupted from his back. With a few powerful flaps, we soared into the air, both of us unable to hold back our laughter as we flew over the beach.

After a few laps, he smoothly descended, landing in the soft sand near our clothes. He picked up my dress and tossed it to me with a grin that was equal parts playful and smug.

I caught it, slipping it over my head as the fabric clung to my soaked skin.

Ash bent to retrieve his shirt, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the wings extending behind him. They weremagnificent, their massive expanse casting faint shadows in the moonlight. The leathery surface seemed alive, catching the silvery glow and shimmering faintly. Delicate veins, like intricate river patterns, pulsed faintly with life, and I felt an almost magnetic pull toward them.

I stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to let my fingers brush against the surface. The texture surprised me—cool and impossibly smooth, with an almost unnatural softness. A faint shiver ran through me at the touch.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, the words spilling from me unbidden.

Ash’s expression softened, his teasing grin replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. “You think so?”

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the mesmerizing wings as my fingers traced along one of the ridges. “Do you feel that?”

He shifted slightly, his wings rippling in response to my touch. “Do you feel this?” His voice was low as he trailed a finger down the length of my arm, his touch feather-light.

A laugh escaped me. “Yeah, but… how does it work?” I gestured behind him. “The wings? How can you summon them without, you know, ripping through your clothes?”

Ash chuckled. “It’s part of the transformation magic tied to the curse. When the wings manifest, the magic reshapes my form—my body and my clothing—like a seamless transition. No tearing fabric, no awkward adjustments. It’s … efficient, I guess.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “So, it’s not just the wings that transform? The magic reshapes everything about you?”

“Pretty much,” Ash said, flexing one wing slightly, the movement fluid and controlled. “The curse rewrites the rules for what’s possible. The wings don’t just sprout out of nowhere—they phase in, like the magic is bridging the gap between what’sreal and what isn’t. Once they solidify, the transformation is already complete. It all happens so fast, but it’s precise. Like it’s been … perfected.”

I ran my fingers lightly over the edge of one wing, marveling at the detail. “So, the curse was thoughtful enough to spare your wardrobe?” A teasing grin tugged at my lips.

Ash laughed softly, the sound low and warm.

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing. “If I had to guess, it’s tied to Cynthia. From what Madam Pearl said, she created the original curse, so it makes sense that this kind of magic would be part of her design. Transformative magic is controlled, deliberate—she wouldn’t have left anything to chance. Cynthia might’ve been a monster, but at least she didn’t want me walking around like a shredded scarecrow every time the wings came out. I guess even curses have standards.”

I laughed with him, but his humor quickly gave way to a quieter, more contemplative tone. “But … the wings—they’ve become a part of me. Losing them feels like losing something that’s intrinsically … mine.”

I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting to the wings behind him. Although they were part of a curse, they were beautiful. The thought of him losing them—of losing any part of himself—made my chest ache.

“I’m so sorry, Ash.”

“Don’t be sorry, Areya,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “I’ve come to terms with it. If losing my wings is the price I pay to remember who I am”—he reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek—“then I’ll pay it. You make me want to be free of this curse.”

“Me?” My voice wavered as I stared into his eyes, the depth of emotion there stealing my breath.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his gaze unwavering. “You make me want to be good, Areya. You make me believe that I can be.”

A blush crept up my neck as a small smile slipped out. He smiled in return, and just like that, the wings vanished as he pulled his shirt over his head.

We walked back to the manor, hand in hand, under the light of the moon. As we approached the front door, I paused, looking up at him. “Out of all the birthdays I can remember, this one is by far my favorite,” I said, quickly kissing his cheek before dashing into the manor.

Chapter 21

Achill had settled in my body after the walk home in wet clothes. Stepping into the hot shower, heat wrapped around me while I replayed every moment shared with Ash tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have his lips on my skin, his arms around my body, how I had melted into his touch. Each moment, every second with him, seemed to have etched itself into my memory, and I was savoring it, letting the sensations wash over me again and again.

But it wasn’t just the memory of Ash’s touch that replayed.

I also savored the laughter, the carefree moments of joy we’d shared, and the thrill of him flying me around the beach with the stars glimmering overhead. It had been pure magic.

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