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Using two fingers now, making large swirling movements over her clit, I wait for her breathing to change and her body to stiffen.
There it is.
She slams her palm onto the hood and cries out. I lean back.
Fuck.
The wings.
As I come, hard, filling her up, she shudders against me and a pair of fiery gold and orange wings burst into life. Blooming on her skin and illuminating the dark.
I am mesmerized by them. By her.
I trace their shape with my palm, not touching them, but close enough for the heat to lick my skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, looking at me over her shoulder, eyes only just visible through the flickering flames of her wings.
“Don’t ever be sorry.” I shake my head, spinning her around so she’s facing me and helping her stand. “You’re a fucking phoenix. Don’t ever apologize for letting your light show.”
* * *
By the time we’re back at the cabin, it’s only a few hours away from sunrise, and I know we won’t be sleeping. Mack and Snow are still laid out by the fire, which has dwindled, but the others must have heard us come back in because they appear on the stairs and pad down quietly to join us in the kitchen.
As Kole makes coffee, Luther heats up the fire again. Despite the noise we’re making, Mack and Snow don’t stir.
Tucking herself into Luther’s embrace, Nova’s skin glitters with heat. Her wings are gone, but she’s still glowing from our encounter and Luther is staring at her as if he wants to know every detail, but also knows it’s not the time to be getting his kicks from story time.
As she explains what Rev told us, the others listen intently.
Sam, however, frowns the entire time.
Raised away from magick, stuck in that fetid shit hole of a club, he still has trouble accepting the weight of Kole and Rev’s ‘feelings’ about things.
He wants something more concrete than the fact they’re seers and have a kind of intuition the rest of us don’t. He wants information… a reason.
It’s a new and different side of his personality. When he first arrived in Phoenix Falls and became part of the group, he was trusting. When Nova died, he was the one who believed without question that she would come back.
But when Nova told him the truth about her fated five, something inside him shifted. Twisted. Hardened.
Finding out he wasn’t one of us – even though we have all made it crystal clear that he is still one of us – did something to Sam.
It made him rebel against the idea of fate, and prophecy, and intuition. Now, he wants to know why.
Specifically, right now, he wants to know why the hell we’re interested in a professor in England when, surely, there must be people closer to home who could help. And why we’re getting distracted by the fact a British witch has been misplaced for a few days.
“She’s not just a witch, Sam.” Nova taps her foot and gives him the stare she reserves for when she’s chiding us about something. “She’s Rev’s aunt.”
Sam raises his eyebrow at her. His shoulders ripple, and he pushes his thick curly hair from his eyes.
“And she knows the professor who could help us—”
“A guy we’ve never heard of? A guy who, a few years ago, curated some shifter-related artefacts?” Sam’s eyes widen as he looks at Nova.
Before Nova can reply, Mack’s gruff timbre interrupts. “Lucien Thornfield.”
I take the coffee Kole’s offering me – so much better than Rev’s tea – and turn around.
Mack is walking slowly, like he’s in pain, like every muscle in his body is throbbing. I let my gates down a little, and the sensation that fills me almost knocks me from my feet.
