Page 9 of Moth to Her Flame

“Then I’ll respect your choice.” Riven’s raspy voice is barely audible. “And accept the consequences.” He stills and takes a deep breath as though he needed a pause just to say the next sentence. “I apologize. I told him not to bring me here.”

The saintly martyr routine shouldn’t work on me. But the way his wings tremble, the obvious pain in his voice…

“Fine.” The word tastes like surrender. “But we’re setting ground rules. And as soon as you’re better, we’ll test these supposed boundaries.”

Relief floods Riven’s too-alien face. It makes him almost… no. Still disturbing.

“There’s an old car behind the cabin,” I continue. “You can stay there. And get a phone.”

“I have one.” He pulls a smartphone from a pocket I hadn’t noticed in what I now realize are actual pants. Small mercies.

“Good. Use it. Call before you come anywhere near my line of sight. And this is temporary. Just until we figure out how to get out from under this curse.” Yes. Curse. That’s certainly what this feels like.

“Thank you.” His genuine gratitude makes this somehow worse.

Volt helps him toward the car, then turns back. “The gun’s in the grass. Keep it handy. And Chelsea?” His expression turns grave. “Watch for the maze symbol. There are worse things than cryptids in these mountains.”

Then he’s airborne, massive wings stirring up dust devils as he rises. The display of power feels like a warning, though I’m not sure for whom.

Retrieving my gun, I watch Riven stumble around the side of the house toward the car. His wings really do look like a giant moth’s, beautiful in an unsettling way that makes my skin crawl.

My life has become a cryptozoologist’s fever dream.

And the worst part? Some tiny, traitorous part of me wants to know what made his wings glow last night.

Chapter Eight

Riven

Pain ricochets through my skull like lightning, but the solar panel array provides a welcome distraction. The mountain sunrise illuminates the obvious problem—no wonder Chelsea’s broadcast kept cutting out last night. Though I was huddled in the backseat of the old Ford and too tired to move, I managed to listen on my phone.

I’ve forced myself into a vertical position, climbed onto her roof, and am focusing on her technical issue. It helps dull the constant ache of being too far from her.

“You’re going to electrocute yourself,” Volt rumbles from behind me, his massive form casting a shadow across me as he comes in for a landing.

My wings twitch in annoyance. “Some of us solve problems without summoning thunderstorms.” The panel creaks as I move it to change the angle, seeking the optimal position. “Besides, the wiring’s completely—” Static electricity crackles up my arm. “…safe.”

Volt’s thunderous laugh echoes across the mountain. “Clearly.” His golden feathers shimmer as he settles beside me, head tilted. “You could just tell her, you know. About the bond. About what happens if—”

“Right, because that conversation would go so well.” The panel finally clicks into place. “‘Hey, sorry about the whole stalking thing, but turns out if you don’t let me touch you occasionally, I’ll literally die’. That’ll definitely make her trust me more. No. More than trust. That sounds like the foundation of a beautiful relationship, don’t you think?”

Volt rolls his eyes at me and doesn’t deign to give me a response. I’ve never seen that exasperated expression on his face before.

Last night’s broadcast replays in my mind—her voice discussing mysterious lights in the valley with Professor Pete, some academic who actually takes her seriously. The memory of her calm, husky voice sends a spark of longing through me, pleasure and pain intertwined.

Volt’s large head swings toward the cabin. “She has a right to know how serious this is for you.”

“She has a right tochoose.” Another wave of pain hits, and my wings curl inward involuntarily. “Without feeling coerced by my… condition.”

“Your ‘condition’ is getting worse. I can sense it—the energy patterns in your body are destabilized. How long since any physical contact?”

“Thirty hours and,” I glance at my phone, “twelve minutes. Approximately.”

“Riven.” His voice is filled with an odd combination of support and censure.

“I’m managing it.” The lie tastes bitter. “The research helps. If I can understand the technical side of her setup, maybe…” The words trail off as another surge of pain momentarily whites out my vision.

Volt’s wing brushes mine—a gesture of comfort that does nothing to ease the soul-deep ache. “You’re not just some equipment she needs to maintain. You’re her mate, whether she accepts it yet or not.”

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