Page 6 of Heartsong
In her haze, it took a moment to register a great gust hitting the top of her head. Something soft and warm slipped around her, blocking out the meager light.
A roar filled the gallery, making the windows and Anna shudder.
Then, silence.
No boots, no shouts, no safeties clicking off.
Until, somewhere in the room, someone hissed, “Well, shit.”
A shriek like nothing she’d ever heard before crashed around her, and suddenly her hands were free to clap over her ears. The calf and the leg attached bunched and sprung up, off the pedestal, toward the boots and their guns.
A chorus of human cries went up as great bat-like wings extended almost from one side of the room to the other. Two huge flaps scattered the mist and the boots, sending everything back, away from where she crouched behind the pedestal.
She was grateful for a breath of clearer air but didn’t know how much good it did her. She was seeing things. The statue,her statue,had come to life!
He cut a brutal figure, looming over six and half feet tall, each wing extending over twice as long. Those horns she’d thought noble arched from his head in wicked points, and the hands that had been poised for movement now had wicked claws bared, ready to strike. His back was wide and bulky with heaps of muscle to support the wings. A thin tail lashed the ground behind him, smacking the floor with angry snaps.
A distressed noise leaked out of her, a whimper of mourning for her sanity. Whatever was in the mist had her thinking statues came to life. Those sparks of white really had been her passing out, and now she was at the mercy of whoever these intruders were.
The monster rounded at her noise, and her throat clenched shut in terror. Blue-gray eyes burned in his hard, inhuman face. His snarl displayed a set of wicked fangs and flattened his sharp nose like a cat’s.
Those eyes took her in, and something about him changed. His stance eased, his wings dropped infinitesimally.
A pair of boots inched forward, gun coming up.
With a roar, the monster whipped around, wings and tail smacking the boots across the room. Shouts rang out again, and then Anna’s vision was taken up with the monster.
He came at her so fast, she couldn’t react. He was there in a moment, crowding her, huge hands tipped in claws closing around her, trapping her against a muscled chest that was hard as stone but so, so warm.
He heaved a great breath, ruffling her hair, and then his wings snapped open.
The bottom of Anna’s stomach dropped out of her.
With a crouch, a leap, and four great heaves of his wings, the monster took flight, crashing through the skylights and out into the cool night air. She screamed as glass tangled in her hair. Her legs dangled, and she felt herself slipping from his hold.
She wouldn’t survive a four-story fall.
A grumbling noise vibrated from his chest, sinking into her own. His arms adjusted her, holding her more securely to the hard planes of his body as they gained height.
Cold air ripped through her clothes, but it was nothing to the burning heat of him.
He hiked her higher up his massive chest, his face falling into her hair.
With another grumbling sound, he growled, “Mate.”
3
Frey’s body buzzed, pinpricks fizzling through him like blood rushing through a limb that’d gone to sleep. His heart beat an unsteady rhythm, unsure still quite what it was supposed to do. Everything took an effort, a moment to remember how it was supposed to work—all except flying.
He cut through the air, away from that strange place full of strange warriors and fae magick.
Ffyc, is there no escaping them?
A growl worked up his throat at how thickly the fae magick had hung in the air, nearly clogging his nostrils. And when it wasn’t the cold, metallic tang of that entering his lungs, it was the hot, salty smell of a dozen human men.
He’d turned to stone under attack and came awake to much the same. Had the world truly changed so little?
Another small sound emanated below him, and Frey tightened his hold on his mate, clutched tight to his chest.
