Page 138 of Vicious Is My Throne

“Anaria, you are scaring me. Raziel healed me. Acted like an arse about it, but he healed me. Sure, my back hadn’t really healed from the dragonfire, but I don’t even hurt anymore. Now please, I beg of you, get this blanket off me before I burn up.”

“That’s the problem, Zor, it’s not a blanket. Those are your wings.”

I hadn’t meant to blurt out the truth like that.

I’d planned on more of a gradual unveiling of the truth, but here we were. “They are amazing,” I put in quickly. “Beautiful. Like rainbows and darkness mixed together.”

“For fuck’s sake, Anaria, what are you talking about?” He tried to turn on his belly, those wings weaving around dangerously with every small adjustment. “Rainbows and darkness?”

I gave him a nervous nod he couldn’t see in the dark. “Maybe you should try to stand. Once you’re ready.” I lost his wrist, reached out blindly, and poked him hard with my finger.

“Ow. That was my eye.”

“Sorry, I can’t see a thing.” I fumbled around on the nightstand, knocking over the untouched tray, food scattering across the floor, the pear bouncing beneath the bed, from the sound. “Wait. Don’t move. Let me light a candle.”

“First you want me to stand up, now you don’t want me to move,” he grumbled. “You’re making a fuck ton of noise over there, and I thought you said wings.” There was a groan and a rustle, then something passed over my face, like a breath of breeze, before I was knocked off the bed.

The only good part was, when I pulled myself up on the nightstand, I found the candle and matches.

“Good gods, what the fuck is wrong with me?” Zor cursed. “I can hardly move. What did Raz do to me?”

I struck the match and tipped the end to the wick. It always amazed me that something so small and inconsequential as a candle could light an entire room. But in this case, that flickering light revealed a terrible truth.

Zor stood with his back to me, his horrified gaze fixed on his shadow cast on the far wall, the enormous, sloped tops of his wings bracketing his head.

“What…the fuck?”

“Zor, it’s okay. This will be okay.” I reached out for him and touched his wing instead. He jerked away like I’d burned him. “Raz and Bex said it’s just magic, and Tristan thinks with some practice you can fly.”

He stumbled across the floor until he caught himself on the bedpost. “I can already fucking fly.” He kept staring at his shadow, every breath jagged.

“I told them that too,” I murmured. “That you didn’t need wings. And yet…” I waved my hand at his silhouette on the wall. “It seems you have them.”

“I don’t know what to think about this.” I clamped my lips together at the slight shake in his voice. “I’ve really been asleep for two days? And these are…real?”

I stepped closer, sliding my hand down his forearm until I clasped his hand. “I think you have time to figure this out. That you are, and always will be, the strongest, bravest male I know, and I will be beside you every step of the way.”

Zor turned toward me.

Well, he tried to turn toward me, except one of his wings flared out and caught the side of my face, knocking me sideways. I forgot to release his hand and simple momentum and the added weight of his transformed body did the rest.

I landed beneath him on the floor, juices from crushed fruit soaking into the front of my shirt, one arm stretched behind me—fingers still tangled with Zor’s—both of us breathing hard, and not in a good way.

“Well, fuck,” he grunted. “That was unexpected. I haven’t been that clumsy since I was four years old.”

“You’ll have to relearn some things.” I worked my fingers free and tried to wiggle out from beneath him. “Like walking.” I bit my lip to stop my giggle from spilling out.

“And turning around, apparently.”

This time I couldn’t stop myself and the laugh burst out of me before I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Yes, and that.” I blew out a breath, surveying the mess of bare limbs and dark feathers tangled around me.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll take my hand and I’ll pull you up. Remember, you’ll have to counter the additional weight of your wings.” Gods, I couldn’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. “Pretend you’re carrying a fully loaded pack.”

“That…might actually work.” Zor grunted when I heaved him to his feet—godsdamn, he weighed more than he looked—but he was up, facing in the right direction, and was very naked.

“Trousers. Let’s get you into some clothes.”

He glanced down. “I don’t even know where the fuck my clothes are. Do I even have clothes? I vaguely remember being doused in freezing water before they dragged me up here.” I searched the cluttered floor for trousers while Zor stood with his arms stuck out, attempting to find his balance, his body jerking this way and that.

---