There had been no real semblance of control before that, but things got...they became frantic. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts, and he worked both arms under me, lifting me against him. We both were like ropes stretched too far, and when we snapped, we did so together, tumbling over the edge. As tight, rolling shocks came in endless waves, I felt the stir of air against my cheek and the feel of something soft lying against my arm. My eyes fluttered.

It was Zayne’s wings.

They had come off his back and now draped over the both of us, the feathers. My gaze lifted, and I saw the stars on the ceiling, glowing as softly as Zayne’s wings.

22

Sometime later, we lay facing each other. A sheet was tucked under my arms, and he was, well, gloriously naked and completely at ease with all of that. Probably because the bedside lamp he’d turned on left all those interesting bits of his in the shadows. His hand was wrapped around mine—the one I had sliced open during the spell. I was bone-deep tired and I had no idea what time it was, but his wings were still out, one resting on his side and the other behind him, and I wanted...I wanted to touch one so badly.

But I was being an adult and operating by the no-touch-without-asking rule. Warden wings could sometimes be sensitive, and you didn’t just go around willy-nilly touching them. I imagined these must be the same, since he reacted so strongly when I did try to touch them before.

God, Zayne actually was an angel. Well, a fallen angel, to be exact. It was weird how every so often the reality seemed to smack me straight in the face.

“The wings,” I said, smothering a yawn. “That was different.”

“I didn’t know that would happen.” He started to tuck his one wing back.

“No. Don’t put them away. The wings don’t bother me. It was just something new.”

Turning my hand over, he kissed the healing cut. The glow behind his pupils was once more muted. “And it’s different.”

“Yes, but I like them.” I wiggled closer. “They’re beautiful, Zayne.”

“Thank you.” He kissed the tip of a finger. “Let me guess, you’re jealous of them?”

I grinned. “Maybe.”

His deep chuckle caused my grin to grow. “I guess I’m still getting used to them,” he said.

“It feels different than being a Warden?”

“It does. All of it does actually.” Another kiss was pressed to the next finger. “Being in my human and Warden states felt natural unless I was wounded and needed to go into a deep healing state,” he explained, referencing when they took stone form to slumber. I hadn’t seen him do that. “Keeping my wings hidden doesn’t feel natural. It makes my back feel itchy. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“Then don’t keep them hidden when you don’t have to, especially when you’re with me.” I glanced at them, my fingers tingling. “They’re amazing. I would love to have wings and to be able to fly.”

“I’ll make sure you fly whenever you want.” He kissed my ring finger. “You want to touch them, don’t you?”

I gave him a sheepish grin as I curled my toes. “Yes. I do. Really badly.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I’ve been working really hard on the whole not touching without permission thing, and it’s been killing me.” I squirmed another inch closer. “They look so soft and fluffy.”

He chuckled, lowering my hand and tipping his head down to mine. The kiss sent a pulse of warmth through me. “Since you’ve worked so hard, I think you deserve a reward.”

My mind immediately jumped in the gutter and happily splashed around, but then I noticed movement. He lifted his wing, letting it lie over us and against my hip. The wing was so long that it reached behind me, and the weight of it reminded me of a thick, lush blanket. The top was so close I could practically kiss one of the feathers. I sucked in a breath, eyes going wide.

“You don’t mind?” I asked, five seconds from squealing with excitement.

“No.” He let go of my hand. “It’s not too heavy?”

“Not at all.” Biting down on my lip, I reached out and ran my fingers over the curve of the nearest feather.

It was as soft as I imagined, like chenille, but under the downy feathers was thick muscle. The entire wing of a Warden was muscle and tendon, but an angel had...God, they had to have hundreds of muscles hidden under the gorgeous fluff. I skimmed my fingers down, and my breath caught. That wasn’t the only thing hidden within the feathers.

So was the grace.

It pulsed along the center of each feather, sparking out in a network of delicate veins. It seemed to follow my touch as my fingers drifted, flaring and then subsiding.

I glanced up at his face. The glow behind his pupils was brighter. I pulled my hand away. “Does touching your wings bother you? If so, be honest. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

“No. Quite the opposite.” Catching my hand, he placed my fingers against the underside of his wing once more. “I like it.”

“Is it relaxing?” I asked. “Sort of like when a dog is petted?”

“If anyone else made that comparison, I might be offended.”

I smiled.

“In a way, it’s relaxing,” he said, reaching between us and placing his hand on the curve of my waist. “They are really sensitive.”

“More so than Warden’s wings?”

His hand slid under his wing to my hip. “Way more. I can feel each touch along my back...and in other places.”

“Other places?” I sent him a grin, wondering if that was what had caused his reaction in the pool. “Interesting.”