My chest expanded.
So this was breathing without fear. Huh. No wonder people wrote songs about it.
“Solomon.”
“Hm.”
“Thank you. For bringing me here.”
He stepped forward until he stood beside me at the edge. His shoulder an inch from mine, the kind of presence that didn’t demand acknowledgment but anchored you anyway.
“You asked,” he said. As if that explained everything.
Maybe it did.
We stood there for another minute, watching the river eat the silence. Then I exhaled, my locked ribs finally unclenching.
“Okay.” I stepped back from the edge. “I’m done.”
Solomon turned without a word and led me back through the tree line toward the truck. By the time we pulled up to the cabin, the morning had softened into late gold and the smell of coffee drifted from the open kitchen window.
Percy met us at the door, a look on his face that was curiosity and poorly concealed concern, but he didn’t ask. Just squeezed my shoulder as I passed and went to help Solomon in the truck bed before they left me alone in the living room, going to their shift.
The craziest part, and I was aware of how insane this sounded, was that my biggest problem now was figuring out which of my three absurdly attractive supernatural boyfriends (sort of) to sleep with first.
My life had taken a turn I did not see coming. And honestly? It wasn’t a downgrade… I guess.
I pressed my face into my knees and laughed. The sound bounced off the cabin walls.
Okay. Here goes to my new chapter.
No more surviving. It’s time to actuallylive.
I stood, stretched, and followed the sound of aggressive squawking coming from the front porch.
Lucian was outside. The raven was on the railing.
They were having what could only be described as a standoff. The bird’s talons scratched against the wood in a rhythm that sounded taunting.
Lucian stood three feet away with his arms crossed, jaw tight, glaring at the bird.
You think you know someone until you find out that they are beefing with winged creatures.
“I already told you,” he said, his voice dropping. “If you come back again, I will pluck you bare and use your feathers for a pillow.”
The raven tilted its head. Blinked once. Then let out a screech that was unmistakably smug.
I leaned against the corner of the cabin and crossed my arms, biting my cheek to keep from grinning. “Are you losing an argument with a bird?”
His head turned. “It’s not a bird. It’s a messenger. And it won’t leave.”
“Because it’s waiting for a reply.”
“My reply involved dismemberment. It didn’t seem persuaded.”
The raven hopped sideways on the railing, talons clicking. Its amber eyes swiveled to me with an intelligence that was slightly unnerving. Then it dipped its head in what I could swear was a bow.
“Maybe you’re the problem.” I stepped onto the porch. “It likes me.”
