Page 98 of Lana Pecherczyk
“What are you saying?”
“Regardless of whether you accept our gift, the door won’t unlock unless you complete the nesting rituals.”
River opened his fist, and Talo’s head splashed beneath the surface. Muddy water sprayed River’s face and dripped down his front. Without a word, he emptied the bowl into the sink, cutting off his parents’ warbled, enthusiastic praise and encouragement. Then he braced his hands on the counter, his back to Blake. From his locked-up muscles and the white knuckles of his grip, he was not a happy chappy.
It was hard not to take his mood personally. Did this all start because of her? Because she’d called other males mate? She’d called lots of people mate. River had warned her, been downright annoyed at her for it, and now he refused to look at her.
“What a fucking joke,” she whispered, eyes burning.
River’s grip tightened hard enough to creak the wooden counter.
“Why is it such a big deal?” she asked.
He slammed his palms on the counter and stalked to the end of the caravan.
“I’m taking a shower,” he grumbled before yanking open the bathroom door and disappearing inside.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
Blake sniffed and wrapped her arms around her painted midriff. This was her fault, but she had no idea how to fix it. Nothing to offer. No magic yet. No way to make this right. No … substance.
Chapter
Thirty
Scalding water cascaded over River’s back as he stood in the cramped shower cubicle, rinsing away the muddy remnants. But it couldn’t wash away the shame, self-disgust, and general shittiness he’d felt since Cloud’s lightning bolt sliced into his heart.
Ash told River to sort himself out, but whenever he felt like he could finally let go of his issues, maybe get close to Blake, something like this happened. He called himself a Guardian, a protector, but he couldn’t protect shit.
Couldn’t stop his friend from going mad. Couldn’t keep his new mate safe.
He should have seen his family’s gift coming a mile away. It was so obvious to him now … the side comments about him being unhealthy, about him being too rusty to handle Blake’s appetite, about them having it all ‘“sorted.”
Once again, he’d arrived at the conclusion too late.
This spell expected intimacy. It wanted them to share secret fantasies when Blake’s heart had been broken mere days ago. He didn’t care what his family considered an appropriate time for Well-blessed mates to consummate. Blake needed time to getused to being with a loser like River—a crow who couldn’t fly, and until recently, couldn’t even get it up.
He gently pounded his fist against the shower enclosure, watching water droplets scatter.
The whole situation made him sick. He’d never been the sort to manipulate females into his arms and never liked having to chase them, either. If they desired him, he let them come. If they weren’t interested, neither was he. Simple. Done.
It was one thing to see his parents so in love that the mess didn’t touch them. It was another to figure out a waythroughthe mess first. This confusing feelings bullshit was why he never wanted to be mated in the first place.
He should be interrogating every member of the murder for information on Cloud’s whereabouts. If that failed, he should be locating the cryptex. Being a Guardian was the only thing River knew how to do well, and even that was slipping through his fingers.
Crimson, it had been years since Cloud’s betrayal, and River still wasn’t over it. Why did he care so much? Why did he feel guilty, as though what happened was his fault? They were just friends, not lovers, not partners for life.
River dropped his forehead against the cool tiles, letting the caravan’s rocking soothe his nerves. He couldn’t believe he’d almost killed his father. He’d somehow pulled matter through the blood connection spell—something he’d never had the skill or potential for. But the moment he saw his father’s dopey, grinning face beneath the water, he knew Blake’s world was about to come crashing down again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Too little, too late.
Always too little, too late.
What a fucking joke…He didn’t blame Blake for thinking that. As far as blessings went, she got the short end of the deal.
This kind of trickery might be expected among crows, but Blake wasn’t just human; she was fresh from a traumatic relationship. They’d dressed her up, painted her with newly nested UV symbols, and treated her like kin. It both angered him and made him proud.
When he woke up and realized it was her leaning over him, her expression full of compassion, her breasts abundant in that tight top, his cock had swelled with eagerness. He winced and glared at the thick, angry shaft pointing toward the door. It was doing its divining rod thing, telling him she waited on the other side.
