Page 155 of Lana Pecherczyk
Blake’s mouth fell open when one blinked at her.
Not tattoos. But living birds, each somehow trapped beneath skin. The one perched on the Donna’s left shoulder lifted its head. Another cawed softly from the woman’s nape.
“Come in.” The Donna’s voice rasped like sandpaper. “Sit, child of the old world.”
Blake hesitated, then shuffled to the van’s comforting end and settled onto a cushion with the anatomy book in her lap.
The Guardians remained by the door. River folded his arms and glared. His family held a deep grudge against this woman for ostracizing the Umbrias because Talo and Ravi had eloped.
The Donna clicked her tongue and faced them.
She was a striking woman. Her ageless face was truly beautiful, complemented by her all-white eyes and black-painted lips. A shiny black streak of ink traced her skin from her lips to her throat and then branched across her collarbones.
When she’d turned, the tattooed birds flew beneath her skin and settled on the branches. Every inked crow mimicked her as she narrowed her eyes at River.
“Boy, you always were a stubborn crow.” She gestured to the cushions. “I won’t peck. Sit.”
River’s fear flashed through their mating bond—sharp and unexpected. Ash looked equally uneasy but elbowed him in the ribs.
“There’s a spot here.” Blake patted the cushion beside her.
His stubbled jaw clenched, but he walked over. Leather creaked as his large frame filled the small space, his thigh pressing against hers. Ash stayed by the door with a relaxed stance, watching Donna’s every move.
Her smile revealed too many teeth. “The prodigal son returns. With a mate, no less.”
“Well-blessedmate.”
“So protective of your little bird, aren’t you?”
“She’s human.”
“Is she now?” The Donna’s tone sounded like Jeff’s fake producer, all condescending superiority.
Blake’s fingers tightened on the book’s spine until her knuckles blanched. The Donna’s unnerving, milky eyes dropped to the movement. “And what have you brought me, child?”
“It’s for Aeron,” she blurted. “I’m studying it to help Ada heal his hearing.”
“Ah. So not a gift for me.” The reproachful look she gave River could have stripped meat from bones. Before he could respond, she inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “And your Summer Queen thinks to heal what is not there, hm? With old-world medicine, hm?” She laughed at River’s tensing fists. “Interesting.”
“Not with medicine.” Defensive heat climbed Blake’s neck. “With knowledge.”
“Hm.” The Donna’s gaze traveled over Blake’s face, lingered on her mating mark glinting at her throat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Wh-what?”
“You’re not what they think you are.”
The words drove air from Blake’s lungs. “What do you mean? What am I?”
“You’re impatient for your feather tracing, yes?” The Donna scooped paste from her mortar and reached for Blake with startling speed.
River’s hand shot out, fingers encircling the offending wrist. “Touch her, and I’ll end you.”
“Protective, indeed.” The crows inked into the Donna’s skin flapped their wings and cawed in agitation, but he wouldn’t let go. Ash tensed. Violence crackled in the air.
“The ritual requires marking,” the Donna calmly explained to River. “Or does the Guardian no longer respect his ancestors’ ways?”
“Not without her consent.”
