Page 134 of Lana Pecherczyk
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I just need to shift, that’s all.” He struggled upright, blinking against dizziness. “And I might need to borrow your mana if that’s okay. I’m low.”
She shrugged. “I can’t use it anyway.”
He nodded, strengthened by her easy acceptance but also concerned. “One last thing: Don’t, under any circumstances, cuddle me.”
“Why?”
He arched a brow. “Because I’m a big birdy now and too old for coochy-coos.”
“But not boo-boo kisses?”
“Never.”
Blake’s chuckle finally lit up her face—exactly what he’d intended. She shuffled back, lowering to her haunches.
He hesitated. It was one thing for her to see his patchy wings, but another to witness a mangy crow missing chunks of feathers. Still, she was his mate. If not her, who could he trust with his crow form?
Inhaling deeply, he sank into the Well’s embrace, letting mana pull away the parts he didn’t need. Fire scorched through his veins, illuminating every wound with excruciating clarity. Blake was right—he’d been ignoring the severity of his injuries.Darkness crushed him as his body compressed and was caught within his uniform’s confines.
He cawed in frustration, struggling against wet leather until he finally emerged. Freedom at last.
Two wide eyes and an excited face greeted him. Blake planted her hands on the floor and leaned forward, her dripping hair framing her face. “You’re so bloody cute!”
Before he could escape, she scooped him into her arms and pressed him against her chest. He squawked and flapped, but when she scolded him for scratching her, he folded his wings and surrendered. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain.
“That’s better.” Her fingers found a spot behind his neck, scratching gently. “Such a good little birdy. Yes, you are.”
He cawed in protest, dignity crumbling.
But her fingers felt too good, and when she pressed him closer to her cleavage—well, the view suddenly held compelling advantages. Warmth seeped through his feathers, and he leaned into her touch, allowing himself this guilty pleasure.
Her finger brushed a wound, and he squawked in surprise.
“Oh no, River, you’re still bleeding.” She placed him gently on the floor. “Do you need to shift again? I wish I could help. I’m so bloody useless.”
Blake climbed to her feet, hugging herself as she turned away. The desolation in her posture carved through his thoughts. Making her feel needed, wanted, and valuable rocketed to the top of his priorities.
He surged back into fae form, wings snapping out for balance. The shift had helped close his wounds, though the deepest gashes were at risk of rupturing. Exhaustion clawed at him, but seeing Blake’s dejection hurt worse.
She wandered deeper into the chamber, trailing her fingers along the stone wall. The blue glow intensified wherever she touched, following her movements like a living thing.
“There’s something weird about this light.” She frowned, examining her fingertips. “It’s reacting to me.”
“Probably the Well-blessed mark.” He dressed slowly. “Your abundance of mana likely makes them glow brighter.”
“That’s … kind of amazing.” Wonder filled her voice as she explored further. “And comforting. Wait, there’s something on these walls farther in.”
As the light brightened in her wake, River noticed markings on the stone weren’t random cracks, but deliberate lines, symbols, patterns. Something cold slithered down his spine. He knew those markings.
“These aren’t natural.” Blake’s fingers traced an intricate spiral. “Someone carved these.”
His throat constricted.
“Blake.” His voice emerged sharper than intended. “Come back here.”
