Page 106 of Wings of Lies
“I don’t answer to you.”
Brock took a step toward him, a fiendish smile on his face. “No, but I bet the queen would be interested in hearing about the odd feelings I’ve felt from her,” he nodded to me. “And your change of heart.”
I stiffened.
Aspen, an inch taller, met Brock boot to boot, sneering down at the old male. “Will that be before or after I show the queen the tip of her ear?”
Brock sent me a murderous look. “The queen said, mostly intact. She’ll end up torn apart, regardless.”
Aspen corralled him in with a hand, jerking his face. “And I told you completely intact. Touch her, and next time, I won’t hit you with just my skin. Now go get the demons and the rest of our stuff.” He shoved Brock away, waited till he left, and limped over to his dimming sword.
“Come on, we’re not far now,” he said, pulling up the intricate metal. His hand brushed against my palm as he passed me, sending tingles shooting up my arm. “Not getting any younger,” he called when I still didn’t move.
“You’re technically not young at all,” I yelled back.
He laughed. My heart revolted in the best way.
“By angel standards, I am. Now come on, sweetheart.”
I turned to face his back, keeping my feet planted. “Why do you call me that?”
He stopped. “Because I want to.”
“Do you call all yourassets,sweetheart?”
A heatwave rustled the hair around my cheek as I waited for him to answer. He refused to turn around and meet my gaze, so I drilled holes into his cloaked back. The same cloak he swaddled me in at Hana’s and used to cover me after the Tusoteuthis attack, calming me with his touches and sewing up my legs.Why was he so contradictory? Was it all for his queen?
“No, just you.” His three words carried on an air of breath, floating to my ears and stabbing a resurfacing ache.
“Well, stop,” I said, finally following him.
We walked in tense silence. I distracted myself by analyzing the unique bushes. Their blue-tipped spikes jutted into our path, looking ready to stab anyone who dared to touch their velvety blue leaves.
“They’re Blue Morsus bushes, lined with microscopic bumps that will cut you and burrow into your skin. They slow an angel’s healing process.”
I veered to the center of the road and thought I heard a chuckle.
Eventually, the feeling of being cooked in an oven lessoned.
“We’re close.”
Goosebumps rose along my arms. “To the boundary line?”
“Yes, we’ll make camp tonight and be there by late morning.”
The tension withdrew from my shoulders. I still had one more night.
“I’m sorry, Lucille.”
I stopped, utterly stunned. Never in my wildest imaginings did I believe sorry was in his vocabulary. He turned around, and I swore if I were still moving, I would’ve tripped over my feet at the openness that lay in his eyes and the sorrow bleeding through our bond.
“I’m sorry for?—”
“Stop.”
He took a step toward me. “Luc?—”
“Stop apologizing for something you could change!” I snapped, putting distance between us. He followed me until the strides of his legs gained on mine, and he grasped my elbows. The moment he touched me, I lost it.
