Page 80 of Touched

Nope, forget about that. Never mind that shit.

I am curious about his appendages though. “Hey, umm, Cyrus, what do your wings look like?”

Cyrus tilts his head, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Do your wings look like your sister’s?”

“I guess?” Cyrus extends his wings. Sure enough, like Aeris, they’re very similar. Where Aeris’s are more iridescent with golden hues, his have a green hue.

And yet, I’m still “The Fucking Fly.”

Awesome.

Cyrus motions to me, for a quick second, and one of his dark brows arches as he asks, “You have wings, too? As a Sylph?”

Sighing, I reluctantly nod. “Yeah, they’re not nearly as impressive as yours, though.”

“Not nearly as impressive?” He repeats. “What do you mean?”

I point at him and scowl. “You laugh, I’ll fucking crack your jugular.”

His lips twist as he chuckles. I scowl harder as he jovially says, “Oh, right, not laughing. I’m sure they’re just fine.”

Rather than ripping up another shirt, I grasp it between my shoulder blades and yank, pulling it over the top of my head while thinking about releasing them.

I’m getting so much better at this.

Heat rolls across my backside, down along my spine. As my skin opens, my new appendages blossom outward. I wince because it still pulls, though it’s not nearly as painful as it was. Slowly, I turn to the side to give a full view of me in my entire glory.

“They look good,” Cyrus’s eyes are centered on me as he states it.

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying,” I snarl. He frowns.

“Hey,” Aeris quips. “Remember, Fae cannot lie, Callum. He’s saying it because it’s true.”

Shit! That’s right.

Maybe they aren’t that bad… but compared to those magnificent fairy wings… ugh.

“Sorry, baby,” I reply, chagrined before looking at Cyrus and mumbling, “Sorry, man. A bit of a touchy subject with me.”

“Apology accepted,” Cyrus humorously adds, though I see the grin he’s trying to cover at my discomfort.

Asshole.

As though he somehow heard my internal thought, he smirks as he says, “Seriously, your wings look fine. Wear them with pride. They’re typical Sylph wings.”

“Bug wings,” I state.

“Sylph wings,” he corrects. He points at himself, “Butterfly.” Then, at me. “Dragonfly.” He doesn’t hide his smirk as he flaps his damn butterfly wings. Exactly like a peacock struts.

I grimace. “Whatever, I’m not arguing with you and your fancy as fuck wings.” Pulling my bug boys back in I yank my shirt back on. “So, how do we go about locating this magickal tree-plant-shit and stopping the Rougarou?”

Cyrus rubs the back of his neck. “That’s something I was hoping to learn from the Elders… but I’m not an Elder, so, I couldn’t just walk into Chambers and ask them.”

As much as I want to groan in frustration at the fantastic circle jerk we’ve gotten ourselves into, I still can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched. Glancing over my right shoulder toward an open window, a slight gust moves the humid air around us a bit. The old curtains sway and a hint of something wafts on the breeze. Something about it is almost familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

“Do you smell that?” Cyrus suddenly asks.

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