“It was barely holding on by a thread.” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice that makes me shift beneath him until I’m straining to glare over the black feathers at him.
“And what am I supposed to wear now?”
His lips quirk, threatening to tilt into a smirk, but he holds his composure.
“Your boots are done; completely destroyed. Your jeans are a shredded mess. I’ll get you some clothes tomorrow, I promise.”
New clothes. No one’s ever bought me new clothes before. It’s a nice but unnerving gesture of kindness.
Scowling at his offer, my brows pull together so I can better glare at him and his outrageously simple kindness.
“What do you expect me to wear until then?”
Wrong question.
It’s the wrong thing to ask because it pushes our friendship. The question shoves at it until I know we won’t manage with the sibling love I’m trying to force between us.
I know because when he reaches back, gripping the collar of his nicely fitted shirt, dragging it over the hard lines of his chest, smooth skin, and broad shoulders, I just gape at him.
At every inch of him.
“You can have mine.” He smirks at me. “Now, lay down. I need to apply this medicine, and you need to relax.”
I snap my mouth closed and shove my face back under the safety of my wings.
Several silent minutes pass as he pushes his hands through my feathers, his fingers trailing off to skim down the length of my spine. I shiver beneath his touch. Heat pools between my legs as he runs his calloused palms up my back and threads them through the soft texture of my wings again.
A breathy moan of approval leaves my lips before I can stop it.
“Relaxed?” He pauses, his voice sounding raspier than I remember.
I don’t look to him when I nod slowly.
“Good,” he says on a breath. “Try to pull in your wings.”
My eyes open, trying to understand what he wants.
Slowly, I bring my wings in, tucking them against my back and around his body. His legs are preventing me from folding them all the way but I feel his smooth skin against the sensitive insides of my wings.
“No, try to …” He runs one hand down the edge of my right wing and a tingling feeling spirals through me. “Try to imagine them within you.”
“What?”
A second passes and his hand is still toying with the individual feathers.
“Relax and try to bring them all the way in. Imagine them safely within. Tucked away from the destruction of the world, safely held inside you.”
I like the sound of that. I’ve had these beautiful wings for less than a day and I’ve broken one and damaged the other.
This world isn’t meant for such beauty.
My eyes flutter closed once more and I think about the feel of Ryder’s palm on the length of my wing. I think about every single feather, reaching in myself to make sure each individual one is felt. My body trembles and then his hands are holding me, clasping my lower back, warm against my skin.
Still I focus on the important task of keeping my wings safe. My eyes clench closed as pain shoots through my spine. My shoulders tense as I gasp from the stabbing feel of it.
“Good, good.” A warm palm strokes up my spine, massaging the curve of my neck as he continues to keep a firm hold on my lower back. “You did it, Kara.”
On a shaking breath, my eyes open, the lighting feeling a bit brighter now. I feel them within me; a swirling, heavy feel of magic. I peek up and the soft feathers no longer hide my face. The strong wings no longer grace my back.
