Page 51 of Yearning For Her

His glamour melted away. Before her eyes, his pale skin took on a slight grayish hue, his features sharpened, his ears lengthened and tapered to points, and horns materialized on his head. His nails grew into black claws, and his canines became more pronounced. The blue of his eyes spread to take over their whites and ignited with an ethereal glow that reflected on his silver piercings.

“Here I am.” Kian spread his arms, and something new appeared that made Willow’s breath hitch.

Iridescent gossamer wings.

They unfurled behind him, emitting their own dim luminescence. Four of them, like dragonfly wings, shimmering a faint blue that shifted toward purples and greens as they moved. They looked delicate, run through with flowing, swirling patterns that couldn’t have been natural, and yet they radiated an air of power and majesty.

Willow was glad it was just the two of them here beneath the expansive, starry night sky. Because this moment…was for her. Kian had revealed himself fully to her.

And he was achingly beautiful.

He could be mine.

No. No, Willow. Don’t let your thoughts go down that path. He’s an incubus, remember?

Unbidden, her tongue slipped out to run across her lips. Her mouth was dry, her heart was thumping, and she felt very, very warm. “What…what’s it like having wings?”

Kian’s diaphanous wings flapped lazily, shimmering even more vibrantly as he glanced at them over his shoulder. “It’s…normal. As normal for me as it is for you to not have them. Not that they see much use in this modern era.”

Willow’s fingers flexed. “Can I touch them?”

Fourteen

Kian stared down at his little mortal. Silence had enfolded him, leaving only the rapid beating of his heart to mark the passage of time. Everything else was frozen. A moment in stasis, plucked out of the stream and dangled by the invisible threads of the Fates.

He’d already shown Willow more than he ever should have, more than he’d shown anyone. Why? Why was he standing here, exposed, displaying himself to her? Preening for her? Why had he not immediately denied her request? There shouldn’t have been anything to think about.

A fae’s wings were…sacred. Powerful. Vulnerable. A source of immense strength and simultaneously a great weakness.

To permit a touch required the utmost trust. It was the deepest intimacy in which a fae could partake, second only to the sharing of one’s true name—both actions usually being reserved for mates.

Willow hadn’t accepted that she was his mate, and Kian hadn’t accepted what their connection meant. He needed her for his survival, yes, and she genuinely intrigued him… But this seemed a great leap.

Yet he found himself stepping down from the wall despite his reservations. He landed lightly on the grass, eyes locked with hers, and drew in a deep breath. The air was redolent with her sweet fragrance, which fit so perfectly out here, away from the city stench.

How can I be doing this?

How can I not do it?

His heart quickened as he turned to offer her his back. Bending slightly forward, he flattened his palms on the top of the stone wall. Tension rippled through the muscles of his back, but he willed it away, focusing on the distant city lights. Focusing on her scent.

The muted crunch of dirt and rustling of grass underfoot signaled Willow’s approach.

“They’re so beautiful,” she said softly.

His skin prickled in awareness. He could almost feel her hand hovering over his upper right wing, could almost feel her warmth, but she didn’t touch him. Not yet. His wing twitched.

“Go ahead, Violet,” he rasped. “But be gentle with me.”

She chuckled. “Says a man who embodies everything but gentleness.”

He hummed, and fire sparked low in his belly, spiraling outward. “Remember, Willow… I feel your desires. I’ll be gentle when that’s what you truly want.”

The flare of lust from Willow forced him to press his lips together and grasp the stone beneath his hands. He drank it in, desperate for more, as his cock hardened. Her desire had never fully faded, but she’d done well holding it in check. A slip like this was something he was loath to waste.

Her fingers came down on his wing. It was a delicate brush, so light that he wondered if he’d only imagined it, but when she trailed those fingers down, a thrill raced along his spine. Kian couldn’t stop the tremor that swept through his body. He drew in a shaky breath. His shaft pulsed, straining against the confines of his pants.

Willow traced the intricate patterns on his wing with that same tender touch. Pleasure coursed through the limb, racing to coalesce at his core. His claws scraped the stone as his grip tightened. No one had ever touched his wings, no one had ever gifted him with such sensations, no one had ever made him yearn so deeply for more.

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