Page 83 of Lana Pecherczyk
“I’m going to murder you.”
“No, you won’t,” Manfri drawled confidently.
“And why not?”
Manfri opened his mouth just as Nikan shouted for them to come back. Something about being undressed and having another drink. Crimson. Those females meant business. Manfri pointed in that direction with his thumb. “That’s why—crows before hoes. I’m taking one for the team. He wants to stay. I’ll stay with him.”
Cielo laughed bitterly. “I’m sure you and the princeling can handle it without me. I’m out.”
As he walked away, Manfri called after him, “When that human breaks your heart, you know I’ll be here.”
“In the shop?” Cielo pivoted and flashed a grin, walking backward before spreading his wings.
Manfri wanted to tell him to fuck off, but instead, he said, “Just promise me, whatever happens, that you’ll circle back.”
Something like respect flashed in Cielo’s eyes. He gave a curt nod and beat his wings. Two seconds later, he was gone.
Manfri closed the shop door, making sure to lock it tight. He sighed heavily, thinking about the future fun lost to Cielo’s new obsession. But then giggling females and a low-pitched male rumble drew his attention.
Things were changing. But not necessarily for the worse.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
River slouched on a giant cushion by the campfire, brooding at the scenery below their elevated position. The dying sun touched everything in the amphitheater with a golden brush. It should be a glorious sight, but all he could think of was that vast amount of open space where he used to fly. Tonight, the sentinels in charge of circling were just dark specs. He and Cloud used to volunteer for the job, which meant they could spy on the other kettles and plan their midnight raids.
Then Ash came along and everything changed. No … it changed long before that. When Cloud’s father, Salvatore, forbade him from going on an official gathering, a raid. That’s when the restless spark ignited in Cloud. After that, he was always hunting.
River knocked back another sip of Talo’s moonshine. It burned sweeter than usual tonight, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He sighed as the liquid went to work, easing his tension. He slouched further, spreading his legs for comfort. He supposed that getting used to change was inevitable when fae lived for millennia.
Ash spoke with Talo—each on either side of River—making quiet bets on how long it would be before curious stragglersstarted flying in for the observations. Ash was clean of blood and owl brain matter, out of his Guardian uniform, and now in a fresh linen shirt and drawstring pants to suit the balmy weather. Unlike River, though, his wings spread out behind him, dark blotches against the low light.
Movement a few levels down the amphitheater at the Cardona roost drew River’s gaze. He sat up, thinking maybe … but no, it was Carlotta, Cloud’s mother. Tall, wavy black hair, and with a steel spine, she ruled her roost with as much love as her mate did discipline.
She once made River swear to protect her son from human harm. He wondered if she thought River had failed that promise. Rory broke his heart. Did that count?
“The Valentis will fly up first.” Talo pointed at a kettle one level down, where several winged figures puttered around their caravan, preparing it for tomorrow’s procession. “Nobody needs to check their wheel bearings three times in five minutes.”
He waved openly when they glanced up.
“Nah.” Ash jerked his chin in the opposite direction. “Reed Faelin’s already working out how to make his injury look natural so he can join the ‘healing observations.’”
“Isn’t it educational observations?” Talo tapped his chin.
“You said both,” Ash reminded him.
“What do you think, son?”
“Who gives a flying fuck?” River took another sip of moonshine. It burned less now. His mind was elsewhere, specifically on Blake. Since they’d separated, he’d felt no less than a gazillion fluctuations of her emotions through their bond. Were his sisters spilling his secrets? Was Blake spilling hers? And what in the Well’s name were they dressing her in that took this long?
He shouldn’t have kissed her earlier; he hadn’t planned on it. But when she stood in that sunlight, her skin catching prismatic light, instinct and hunger had overwhelmed his better judgment.
Now, he floated in a mess of his own confusion. The Well had blessed and marked them as mates, but he shouldn’t have kissed her. It gave her the wrong idea.
Nerve-frying pain. Agony. Fire in his blood.
Every night, that’s what River saw when he closed his eyes to sleep. His best friend had looked at him like a stranger.
