Page 84 of Lana Pecherczyk
Cloud could go fuck himself.
The Well-blessing had to be wrong this time. Had to be. River was damaged goods, a Guardian who couldn’t fly, whose wings hung in tatters. Just as he’d failed to protect Cloud, he’d inevitably fail Blake too.
“Not you, I’m guessing, son.”
“Huh?” River’s gaze drifted to his father’s amused expression.
Ash roared with laughter, nearly toppling backward if it weren’t for his wings saving him. It took River several seconds to catch up through the growing haze of moonshine in his mind. But he could see he’d walked into that trap with his “Who gives a flying fuck?” comment.
Talo launched into a detailed demonstration of his favorite exercises to “reinvigorate blood flow” to his groin to help return River a few of his fucks.
“Dad!” River growled, heat crawling up his neck.
“How long’s it been, son?”
“Five years,” Ash quipped, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief.
River glared at the princeling. How in the Well’s name did he know about the drought? River had thought he’d been clever in hiding his problem. But there was no use wondering—Ash hada way of knowing things he shouldn’t. That damned wind of his was sneaky. And now the whole kettle would know.
Great. Fucking peachy.
“Mm.” Talo stroked his chin. “Five years is definitely a dry spell. Have you seen your mother about it?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he muttered while silently miming to Ash that he’d stab him in his sleep tonight. The gesture came out sloppier than intended. “And if I did, why in the Well’s name would I tell Ma?”
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Talo continued. “Why, once your mother and I?—”
“ForCrimson’ssake, Dad!” River dragged his palm down his face. “Can we change the subject? The bastard downstairs works just fine!”
“Now … but earlier…” Ash’s smirk widened.
“You call your cock the bastard?” Talo’s frown deepened as he stared at River. “That’s not healthy, son.”
“Kill me now.”
“Wait,” Talo continued, “if blood flow’s not your problem, then are you worried you’re too rusty to handle your new wingmate’s youthful appetite? Is this why she calls other males mate?” He gestured to Ash.
River didn’t think he could slump lower on the cushions, but he did. He sank until the world tilted oddly. “Wake me up tomorrow.”
“Again,” Talo persisted, “it’s nothing to worry about. Especially with what I heard earlier.”
River groaned beneath his hand. “She attacked a tree! Not me.”
“Not that.”
“We aren’t a throuple!” he shouted.
“I’m wounded,” Ash drawled.
“Stop encouraging him.” River pointed at his face, then swung his finger to Talo. “Finish your story.”
“Oh yes. That.” Talo leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I’m talking about what I heard when I delivered the moonshine to your old bedroom and?—”
“My bedroom.” River blanched. He’d forgotten about that part.
“Apparently, Blake’s previous mate was a two-pump-and-dump sort of lover.” He clapped River’s shoulder with a wink. “You see? You have nothing to worry about. Anyone coming after that will look good.”
“Your faith in me is … astounding.”
