Page 150 of Lana Pecherczyk
“They’re so beautiful. Really,” she mused, idly stroking his wings. “Not as bad as you think.”
Hot pleasure zipped through his body, waking nerve endings that sleep had dulled.
“Sparkles,” he warned, already breathless, his skin tightening with arousal. “Stop stroking unless you want to part those windways again and sit on my cock.”
She laughed.
“I’m not joking.”
“Does it really make you that horny?” she asked, still tickling his wings.
He held her waist firm and gently ground his arousal into her until she gasped.
“You have no idea.” His voice roughened to gravel. “You could probably make me come just by rubbing my wings.”
“Ooh, that might be fun,” she breathed, sliding him mischievous eyes.
“You’re so perfect for me. But we need to get out of here first, and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to my wings.”
“Really?”
“Whatever you want, Sparkles.”
She pressed her smiling lips against his, and he was flying without wings. His lashes fluttered as he palmed her luscious buttocks, savoring the moment.
“I am kind of hungry,” she confessed, head back on his chest. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m thinking.”
The problem was that between her and the things written on the wall, all the blood in his body had been diverted to unhelpful parts. He wasn’t doing a good job of developing a plan. No matter where he looked, sadness surrounded them.
“I know it’s none of my business,” she whispered, “but don’t write off your friend just yet. Please.”
He craned his neck to look down at her. “I have to stop him. You see the same thing I do.”
“I know, but … I can’t explain it. Something doesn’t feel right about all this. For all we know, this is just like a diary—a place to vent. I don’t think we should jump to conclusions.”
“There’s no jumping. The proof is on the walls.”
“But you said it yourself—when it came to that battle on the airship, he couldn’t go through with killing her. Would he burn the entire world just because she’s not in it?”
“Yes.” He threw up his hands. “We’re crows. That’s what we do.” He gently rolled her off him and walked to where the diabolical words were written at the end of the trove. A sick feeling rolled in his gut as he re-read them. “Jasper said he killed innocent human refugees.”
“Did he?”
He nodded, slumping. “There’s nothing left for him.”
“I mean, are yousurethat Cloud killed the refugees?”
Irritation swam in his chest. He hadn’t seen the bodies himself, so no, he wasn’t sure. But Cloud—and every Guardian—had killed humans. Before the Well-blessed humans came along, they’d executed the enemy for infiltrating Elphyne. It was their job. More recently, Cloud had betrayed the fae to lure Nero into Elphyne, who, in turn, used Willow to raise an army of undead and almost destroyed them all.
Blake never saw the emptiness in Cloud’s eyes when he struck down his closest friend with lightning.
“Why are you defending him?” River growled. “You don’t know him.”
Her flinch cut him deep. He hadn’t meant to sound so cruel.
“I just think something is missing here.” She joined him by the wall, hugging herself. “All these shimmering words, I think they’re lyrics to a song from my time. But … some words are missing.” She walked to the beginning, to where Rory’s letters were more evident. Her eyes darted to and fro, rereading. “She says things in here … things that don’t quite make sense but that remind me of the song, too. I don’t know. It just feels like something is missing, and Cloud knew that.”
