Page 17 of Moth to a Flame

I motioned, and he trailed behind me like a puppy back up to the house. He followed me upstairs without being asked. He was good at listening, this handsome mothman. And considering no one had listened to me for the last five years, well…it was definitely doing something for me. But I tried not to think about it as I led him into the guest bedroom. This situation was already screwed up enough without dragging sex into it.

I walked into the en suite bathroom, checking under the cabinet to make sure he had clean towels and soap.

“The house is old, but it’s enchanted, so despite what the bathroom looks like, you will get hot water,” I called over my shoulder before turning around and freezing.

He’d taken off his long-sleeved henley, and what he was wearing underneath could barely be called a shirt. It was an old tee he’d modified to be more like a halter top so his wings could poke out.

And, oh goddess, his wings.

They were currently curled up, previously tucked inside his jacket for who knew how long. But as I stood there, slack-jawed, they stretched out, unfurling to their full size. They were absolutely stunning, a kaleidoscopic of soft yellows, oranges, and warm browns. I watched thick veins inside them pulse as they expanded, transforming into something I had no doubt could carry him through the sky. Soft fuzz covered swirling patterns and stripes, and when they finally settled—which nearly brought their tips to the floor—they quivered slightly, like your back after a good stretch.

They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My gaze traced the lines of them up to his heavily muscled shoulders, then to his tattooed neck, which had turned dark red.

“You like them?” He tilted his head toward me with a shy smile.

Oh goddess, I’d been staring at him undressing. I’d literally just said I would not bring sex into this, and here I was, objectifying him like I was a desperate, horny witch. I mean, I was a desperate, horny witch, but he didn’t need to know that.

Except he definitely knew. The bond ensured that.

What a fucking mess.

“Uh, do you need anything else?” I fixed my gaze on the floor.

He opened the small pouch he’d brought inside, and disgust passed through him. “Can I use your washer? This was supposed to be my last delivery this week, so everything I have is pretty dirty.”

“Oh—yeah, of course. And I have some clothes you can borrow until they finish.” I dared to look up at him, and he nodded.

“Lead the way, boss.”

“What?” Why did that come out as such a squeak? Goddess, I was losing it.

“We have to go together, right?”

“Right—right! Yeah, this way.”

I led him downstairs, and he tossed everything in the washer. Then he waited patiently outside my door as I dug through my drawers for something for him.

Get it together, Lucia.

First, I found some of my baggiest sweatpants and some old, but not disgustingly so, T-shirts.

“You can have these. Cut them up however you need for your wings.” His gorgeous wings, which I was not staring at.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, there should be scissors in the desk in your room.”

He hummed softly, his wings fluttering and his antennae flicking. For another moment, we just stood there awkwardly. What did you say to the hot man you’d just met who knew you were staring at him with lust in your heart but was also the person who had ruined⁠—

No. No, don’t think about that.

“Okay, well, goodnight.”

I tried to flee the room when a dark shadow darted past my feet.

“Mugen, leave him alone.”