Page 14 of Night in a Waste Land

“It was something to do,” she hedged, shaking her head. “I was – I was so angry. And I thought if I could just figure out…The military was access to resources I could never have gotten on my own. It’s the reason I’m here now. Whyyouare.”

He smiled. “Well, that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

“It’s worth everything.”

He took both her hands into his, staring down at the way their fingers laced. The claws were there, hard and black, in place of his regular nails. But, as she watched, they lengthened, sharpened, and thick, black veins crawled beneath his skin, streaking back across his knuckles, his wrists, disappearing up his sleeves.

“Well. That’s a trick,” he murmured. Let out a breath, and the veins faded. The claws shrank back to a manageable size.

“What else can you do?”

“I’m not sure, yet. Fly, I’m assuming.” His wings twitched, and they sounded like the rustling of her leather coat. “This must be good for something.” The spade tip of his tail lifted up like a periscope, startling a laugh from her.

One that quickly threatened to dissolve into sobs. He was here, Beck washere, and she couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it had worked.

When he reached for her, she went readily, let herself be bundled like a little girl onto his lap, her face against his throat again, breathing in the new brimstone and ash smell of him.

“You remembered Derfel,” he murmured, wondrous, stroking her neck and shoulder. “You found him, and you sent him. My wonderful darling.” He rocked her, his silky hair tickling her face, his heartbeat strong and steady against her. Slowly, his wings curled around her, around them, closing them in together.

She drifted like that a while. She’d been so tired for so long, sleeping in fitful snatches, never allowing herself any slack with her training. She’d honed her body into a deadly weapon; had studied and studied, until there was no room for anything but tactics and practicality in her mind.

Beck threatened to shatter her with only this simple touch.

Nearly asleep in his arms, it took her a moment to register the question he’d asked. “What?”

“You haven’t asked me yet,” he said, quietly, and she realized that he’d tensed.

She sat up a little, so she could search his face. “Asked you what?”

“To join your war efforts.”

She blinked at him, startled. “But I’m not going to.”

A small, rueful smile graced his lips. “Maybe not now, maybe not even in twenty minutes. But whenLancereturns…eventually, you will ask me.”

“No, I won’t. All I cared about was getting you back.”

“Rosie,” he said, chidingly. “You’re a terrible liar.”

But it hadn’t felt like lying. He truly was all she’d cared about for so long. Finding her way here, to Wales, had been a culmination of all her longing. All her wants and needs.

He traced the edge of her chin with a claw. Drew her in close; close enough to see each gold filament in his eyes. To see the infinitesimal twitch of his lips that betrayed a resigned sort of sadness. “You want to try to save the world, don’t you?”

She took an unsteady breath. “I don’t know if it can be saved.”

“Hm. Maybe not. But there’s no harm in trying, is there?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to,” she said. “You don’t owe anyone anything. But I don’t – Beck, I don’t know if I can step back. Not right now.”

“I would be a hypocrite if I expected otherwise. I had a crusade of my own, remember?”

All too well. His vow of vengeance against Tony Castor. He’d known it wouldn’t bring his brother back, but he hadn’t been able to stop, either.

“I made a commitment,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He closed the distance and kissed her.

She’d imagined this moment a thousand times in the past five years. Had envisioned a desperate pawing at one another; a tangle; a heated race to tear into one another. How many times had she closed her eyes, when there were hands mapping across her body, and lips against her throat, and she was joined with someone – with Lance, only Lance, who had to have so many questions, who’d let her come here, and attempt this. Had walked away earlier when she’d asked him to. How many times had she been with him, closed her eyes, and pretended it was Beck? Beck with her, in the hot throes, skin slick with sweat, whole body throbbing to the pulse of want.

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