WREN
Iwoke to sunlight and the steady thud of a heartbeat under my ear.
For a moment I didn’t move. Didn’t open my eyes. Just lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body wrapped around mine, the soft brush of feathers against my bare shoulder.
Alive. He was alive. We were both alive.
I opened my eyes.
The nest was a disaster. Furs tangled, silks askew, books knocked from their careful positions along the edges. Evidence of what we’d done scattered across every surface. I should probably be embarrassed.
I wasn’t.
His arm was draped across my waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep.
He looked younger when he slept. Less like a monster. More like a man who had finally stopped fighting.
I shifted slightly, trying to see him better, and his arm tightened.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough with sleep. Low and gravelly and completely him.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t move yet.” His eyes opened. Gold, pure gold, but calm now. Present. “I want to remember this. Waking up with you.”
My chest did something complicated. “You’ve woken up with me before.”
“Not like this.” His hand spread across my stomach, warm and large. “Not knowing you’re mine. That you chose to be mine.”
“I chose you the day I walked across that market.”
“You chose escape.” He kissed my forehead. “Now you’ve chosen me.”
I couldn’t argue with that. So I kissed him instead, soft and slow, tasting the morning on his lips.
When I pulled back, I noticed something strange.
I could hear his heartbeat.
Not feel it against my cheek. Hear it. A steady thump-thump from across the nest, as clear as if I had my ear pressed to his chest. And beyond that, other sounds: the scratch of claws on stone somewhere in the Aerie, the distant cry of birds outside, a soft shuffling that might have been footsteps in the library below.
“Tavrin.” I sat up, letting his wing fall away. “I can hear... everything.”
He pushed himself up on one elbow, watching me with something like satisfaction. “The bond.”
“What?”
“Your senses are sharpening.” He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on the shell of my ear, tracing its edge. “It’s beginning.”
“What’s beginning?”
“You. Changing.” He said it simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “The bond connects us. Over time, it will change you. Make you more like me.”
I stared at him. “More like you how?”
“Longer life. Sharper senses. Eventually...” He paused. Looked away. “Wings.”
“Wings.”
