Page 111 of Cursed Evermore
“It’s best you don’t know the answer to that.” He tilted his head again and a stray lock of hair fell over his cheek, drawing attention to his scar.
“Why not?”
He leaned even closer, wings growing, talons floating like snakes. “I told you yesterday, Ziyka. I can’t go there with you.”
I caught his meaning and my eyes widened, then a sudden warmth that flushed through my body made me feel as if I were standing next to the sun.
I could only assume the elongated teeth must have been something sexual, or maybe he was still screwing with me.
“Right.” I inhaled slowly, hoping the cold air would compose my mind.
His wings became living smoke then solidified again a breath later, captivating me all over again.
“Do my wings fascinate you, my Lady?” He quirked a hard brow.
“I… didn’t know you had them.”
“They appear when we need them.”
“Just like that? You summon them?”
“No, it’s like breathing. Your lungs open when they need to receive air.”
The explanation was simple but my mind still struggled to process it as I looked over his wings. I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Your wings are… different from the others.”
His mouth curved with dark satisfaction, and goose bumps raced across my skin. “There are many things about me that are different, Ziyka. Go ahead, touch them.”
My eyes rounded and my breath snagged on the ragged edges of my curious thoughts.
Touch them?
Touchhim.
No. I couldn’t.
I shouldn’t.
The last time I willingly touched him was the night he took me. Look how that turned out. And things had changed since. Things like my uncontrollable emotions.
My heart thundered against my ribs, each beat whispering new and old warnings.
“I promise I won’t bite you.” His voice dropped to a tempting whisper, a velvet purr that caressed my skin. “Even if you want me to.”
“Why would I want you to bite me?” I stifled a groan.
“Who knows? It may be your thing.”
“It’s not.”
“Then touch me.” Wolfe brought his right wing closer, the edges rippling with tendrils of night-touched magic that reached toward me like curious fingers.
I gazed at the outstretched wing for a long moment before my eyes darted back to his.
Touch his wing. I shouldn’t be touching any part of him. But what harm could come of something so minor? It was like shaking his hand, except I hadn’t exactly done that, either.
I was playing the game. That’s what I was doing. Even if I’d secretly wanted to touch him.
Clutching the book to my chest, I lifted a tentative finger toward his wing and touched it. My finger pressed against leathery skin, and the world exploded into sensation. His wing was silk and steel, thrumming with energy and heat.
