Page 29 of Feathers From the Sky

10

ROMAN

Gwyn takes off,running toward the other trail we didn’t take. I am frozen solid, not allowing myself to move for a moment because I don’t trust myself not to behave like an animal. My fangs are painful in my mouth, and that small taste of her blood has sent me into a frenzy. I don’t trust myself to give into the chase and not kill her right here in the swamp.

Running my hands through my hair, I’m about to chase after her when my phone vibrates in my pocket. When I ignore it and it doesn’t stop, I pull it out to see a dozen texts and missed calls from Margot.

Kill order.

Answer the fucking phone.

Emile was told to kill her.

He’s on his way. Might already be there.

Fuck Roman!

Pick up the goddamn phone.

I don’t bother reading the rest. I had been suspicious of whatever startled those goddamn birds, and I’ve been on high alert ever since. But that drop of blood distracted the fuck out of me. If Emile is here in the swamp, it’s possible he smelled it too.

I call him, and when he sends it straight to voicemail, my mouth goes dry.

My uncle won’t fucking help me. He’ll follow orders like a good little soldier, and then I won’t have access to the storage unit, and I won’t have any more answers about Remy. I won’t get a chance to fuck her and drink from her, and I’m kidding myself if I pretend I don’t want that. Perhaps my uncle is right and I need to get off my high horse. She is good and kind and her sad eyes are like my brother’s, and I don’t want to put her down yet.

In a last ditch effort, I send out a text message to Margot and hope I’ve bought myself more time. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting my uncle to come strolling up the trail behind me, but I don’t see him anywhere. It doesn’t mean he’s not here, so I take off, using my abilities to make my way down the path I saw Gwyn take.

She is nowhere to be found, and my heart pounds a frantic rhythm in my chest. If I’m too late and Emile has already done what he came to do, I don’t know what I’ll fucking do with myself.

I hear the faintest splash past where the trail dead ends, but I can’t see anything out of the ordinary. It’s midday, and my eyes always struggle even when it’s overcast. But I would notice her bright teal leggings amongst the dark greens and browns. Those pants are going to be the death of me. A few times she got ahead of me on the path, and the way they bunched at her ass had made it clear she isn’t wearing any underwear. They’re so tight they cling to her, and I want to lick the skin beneath them. I want to cup that dimpled ass in my hands, slap it and make it jiggle, and fuck if I’m not hard thinking about it. Again.

Emile is out there, though, and I need to keep my dick in check. I strain my ears and close my eyes, listening for even a hint of her, and I’m rewarded with the faintest exhale. I frown when I realize it’s past the end of the trail.

No, it’s where the trail has flooded.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, realizing I’m going to have to pick my way across exposed roots and tree branches, and I wonder how the fuck she could do it so swiftly while I was reading Margot’s texts.

I don’t think the water here is deep, the wide base of the bald cypress’s visible above the water, but I pick my path carefully. For a brief second, I consider alligators might lurk beneath the placid water before I realize we’re in fucking Virginia. I’m pretty sure those ancient monsters don’t live this far north. But there are far more deadly predators in this swamp, and I’m lifting my nose and sniffing like a bloodhound trying to get a scent of Gwyn. I am surrounded by only shallow murky water and giant bald cypress trees growing bigger the farther I go, interspersed with smaller maples. The branches from the smaller trees get in my way, and I have to push past them to follow. At one point, I’m certain I get a glimpse of her, so I keep going. I’m picking my way from rock to downed branch, the swamp debris making a better path than I would have imagined, and I finally am rewarded with the scent of her.

I breathe deep, and it is blood I smell, sweet and tart, that gets me moving faster. It’s too strong to be that small cut on her hand, and rage floods my veins. The thought of her blood being wasted or, even worse, Emile drinking from her, makes my blood boil. But then I see the swing of her ponytail past a tree, and I hear her splashing ahead of me. The thrill of the hunt is getting to me, and I can feel the hunger ripping through my stomach as I follow her.

It’s clear she knows this trail well, picking through it easily. I’m about to give up trying to stay dry and shoot after her, but if I reveal myself now for what I am, everything changes. There will be a time limit on what I need.

I catch sight of her in the distance, and she looks back over her shoulder at me and grins. She’s climbing over a log and those teal leggings are wrapped so tightly around her thick thighs I can’t focus, but then she disappears. I take a deep breath, searching for Emile’s scent, and find nothing. All I smell isher. Fragrant and bold, her blood calls to me like a dying man to confession. It feels like I’m drowning in my bloodlust, and I’m spinning in a circle near where I last saw her as I try to find her.

“You clever thing,” I murmur when I realize where she went. The mammoth bald cypress in front of me is the biggest tree I’ve ever seen. The base is about ten feet wide and nearly as tall as I am.

And it’s hollow.

I pretend not to see it, approaching slowly, picking my way carefully so she thinks I’m going around her hideaway. The scent of her only grows stronger, and I begin to salivate. I should grab her and get the hell out of this swamp before Emile can do anything to jeopardize my plan, but I can’t stop thinking about the taste of her blood and how beautifully she moaned as she rode my hand. A ripe apple on a summer day, her blood is sweet providence I don’t deserve. Every time it crosses my lips and I get a taste, it’s like lightning. All too brief and bright, it lights me up from the inside, and I’m still glowing.

I need more, and I don’t know if I can stop myself. I hadn’t lied when I told her she was more dangerous for me than I was her. The lines of want blur because of her blood, but I’m done lying to myself. I want her—havewanted her—since the moment I set my eyes on her four months ago. She makes me goddamn senseless.

I spot her tiny footprint in the mud and smirk before I use my abilities to make my way into the hollowed trunk, counting on her hiding and the shock of my entrance to keep her oblivious for now.

I’m assaulted by the scent of her. Sweet and tart blood mixes with a faint hint of sweat and arousal, and I’m hard before my eyes have a chance to painfully adjust to the darkness. Now that I’m breathing it in more deeply, everything else falls away, and there is only need. There is onlyher.

She screams, and I slam into her, pressing my hand over her mouth to silence her. Her giant brown eyes blink at me, and I only see surprise. There is no fear in her gaze, and when her fingertips graze my side, I pull my hand from her mouth.

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