“I’m never going to survive you, and I don’t want to.” He dropped his head back to the chair with a thud.
I took the opportunity while he wasn’t watching me. I could do it.
I wanted to do it.
Leaning forward, I took in his tip, wrapping my lips around him and allowing my tongue to explore the taste.
“Oh, fuck!” he cried, but I was too focused on my task then to worry about whether he was watching me or not. I sank down, taking more of him, slowly lowering until I felt the urge to cough him out. The stable hands had hinted that this was their favorite part, making their partner choke on them. I didn’t think that sounded all that romantic, but here I knelt, going in for a second deep stroke to try and take him deeper. The moan that brokefrom Faolan as I did was reason enough to choke myself to death on him. He was driving me wild.
His fingers tentatively wove into my hair, scooping it up and twisting it to hold it out of my way. I was losing myself to my rhythm, up and down in measured strokes, then deeper until my throat tightened in objection, and he made that helpless noise again. My pace quickened. It felt rough and unpracticed to me, but he was making some reassuring sounds, so I pushed on.
I felt him climbing as I had the other night at the inn, when his mouth was on me.
I felt him thrust slightly, the faintest movement at first, but soon I was letting him push up into my waiting throat and draw himself back for the next push.
His breathing was shallow and labored. I sensed him climbing to a peak, tasted the first hint of cum on my tongue. I wanted it all. I’d never even imagined that, but in the moment, I wanted it in my mouth so I could drink him in, own him, and never forget the taste of what I did to him.
He cried out and thrust, the climax clearly taking him by surprise. Hot fluid poured from him, and I accepted it greedily, swallowing it down possessively.
Who was I?
I was remade. A new version of myself.
A version I feared would never heal when he left and didn’t look back.
“Now come here.”
THIRTY-NINE
FAOLAN
Istood watching the camp wake, feeling strong and healed. I’d been able to shift my wings back days ago, and now mostly healed wounds dotted my upper back and shoulders in place of where they were in my wings. Shifting with injuries was a strange business, for it was one body with two forms, and wounds and scars didn’t just vanish when the anatomy changed.
I was no longer bandaged, though, and the strength in my wings was returned.
I had snuck out before dawn, not waking Caly, and with Ryuu’s blessing, I had trekked beyond the camp’s wards and shifted for a test flight under the cover of darkness, with the promise that if I was attacked by waiting enemies, I would draw them away and never return. They would deliver Caly to the palace safely on my behalf.
Goddess be praised, none of that happened. I flew well and returned to camp with a feeling of gloom that today would be our last day. Not just in the camp, but together.
A small, warm arm appeared around me, she slipped under my arm as I lifted it, and then pressed a steaming brew into my hands to ward off the chill. I took it and wrapped my armsaround Caly as well, so we were both facing out over the camp. I rested my chin on the top of her head.
“How was your flight?” she asked softly, not taking her eyes off the morning prep going on around us.
“Much needed but stiff. Newly grown scales are always tight. I didn’t think I’d woken you,” I murmured in reply.
“You didn’t,” she glanced up at me. “But I felt the thrill of finally being able to use your wings. It pulled me from my slumber.”
“My apologies?—”
She cut me off. “Some things you can’t help broadcasting.”
“Too true.” Would this connection span space and time after I left? Would I feel her joy and sorrow, her best and worst moments with him? The idea was unbearable.
She smiled and then returned her eyes to the camp.
I sipped the tea, and we shared a moment of tranquility together. But the feeling of impending doom was not going away, and I knew she felt it too.
When I finished the tea, I stepped back and inclined my head to follow back to the tent. We walked in silence, but the presence of all the words we hadn’t spoken followed us like an oppressive thunder cloud.
