“Talon,” I warn under my breath.
But what can I say?
He’s crass. He’s filthy. And he’s got a point. Sex has a history of powering me up.
“If you need just a little more charge to summon the fucker,” he murmurs, “say the word, baby.”
I feel the offer in my core.
My mouth runs faster than my self-preservation. “I wish,” I murmur, before sanity can slam a hand over my lips.
Talon smiles like a goddamn wolf. Cassian’s expression flickers. It’s shock first, then something darker. Territorial. Maybe murderous. Maybe both.
Nathaniel? A faint quirk of the mouth betrays that he’s enjoying this.
Heat coils low inside me, vicious and inconvenient.
“Unfortunately,” I say quickly, clearing my throat and dragging my gaze away from Talon’s insufferable, devastating smirk, “it wasn’t like that this time. I think—” I hesitate, tasting the shift in me like electricity under my skin. “I think something’s changed since I woke up. Talon didn’t fuel me. What we did was normal. No power involved.”
Truthfully, I don’t like it. Not that sex didn’t charge me— but what that means.
Every time I think I understand myself, something else cracks open: a new rule, a new limit, a new piece of me I never asked for.
Would be nice to know the rules for once, instead of always stumbling in the dark.
“So…” Talon puckers his lips and lifts both brows. “Can’t summon him?”
I stare at him. “Nope.”
Cassian and Nathaniel exchange a look. Something silent passes between them before Talon whistles, hooks his hands behind his neck, and stretches as he strolls to the sofa. He drops onto it like he’s just heard the best news in the world, grinning as if a swarm of angry, sentient crows isn’t squatting outside the building.
“Well, all things considered,” he says, “I think it’s a good thing.”
I follow him, Cassian and Nathaniel slowly getting along behind me.
“Why’s that a good thing?” I ask—
—and then I pass the window.
Andoh.
The crows.
Not a handful.
Not even dozens.
Hundreds.
A living tapestry of black feathers and cold, glassy eyes stretches as far as I can see. Ledges stacked three deep. Power lines sag under their collective weight. Trees so densely covered it looks like the leaves have been replaced by wings, beaks, and sharp little heads. All pointed inward, toward me.
If I were still human, a real one, and saw this outside my window, I’d assume I’d slept through the trumpet section of the apocalypse and woke up at the omen stage. It’s the kind of sight that makes you immediately call a therapist, a will lawyer, and a fucking bunker contractor.
And it presents another problem: abandoned hospitals only stay abandoned when nothing draws attention. But a biblical crow-plague? That’s catnip for morbid curiosity. One kid with a camera phone and a TikTok account that hasn’t been throttled yet, and suddenly we’re a trending hashtag.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
The birds rustle in synchronized shivers, feathers sliding against feathers in a low, rippling hiss. A beak taps sharply against the glass beside my head. Another caws—a single, deep note that feels hurled straight at my spine.
