Page 14 of Hellish Fae
“Ryke.”
One small word. One word that sounds exactly like his dark, rasping tone.
“You sleeping up here tonight?” His tongue slides slowly across his lips. If I could somehow manage to stand up and not look like fallen prey, that might really help my ego right now.
I push to my feet, but I’m still so much smaller than the two hulking men in front of me. I square my shoulders and try to find my full five-foot three height.
My attention sweeps over the death netting slowly.
“No, I’ll probably sleep on the couch,” I say with so much uncertainty.
“Couch is made of wood,” Damien says, kicking his legs back and forth on the edge of the platform.
“I’ll find a spare bedroom.” I nod to myself.
“Only bed in the house is Corva’s,” Damien adds.
“I will—I will—I’ll just make a fucking pallet in front of the door like an old dog and sleep soundly, becausethisthing looks like it’s going to strangle me in my sleep,” I finally admit, my hands on my hips. I eye the wide netting circling me.
Damien stands and the pull of his lips is hard not to stare at as he smirks down at me. And then, he free falls backward. He lands with a high bounce before he spreads his arms out wide, the threads melding to his body with every move he makes.
“It’s a nest. This bed was designed for winged creatures.” His voice is tinged with sadness, and I remember how destroyed his shoulder blades looked where his wings used to be.
“Your wings will grow back,” I say slowly.
“Yeah. As demon wings. Leather will cover my body where fine feathers used to sprout. And it’ll take time. It won’t be overnight like it normally would be, because of Corva’s magic.”
I swallow hard at that thought.
I hate how much I pity him. I hate that I feel anything but anger and annoyance for the man who hauled me away against my will.
“There’s a blanket on the couch for your floor pallet.” Zaviar cuts Damien off. The impatience and irritation on his face is clear.
He wants me out of his space.
And where I have understanding and compassion for Damien, I have nothing but hatred for Zaviar.
The feeling is clearly mutual.
He and I are at a standoff, I feel like. This is his home. His friends. His bed.
Fuck him.
My long silver hair catches around my face as I roll off the little platform and hit the netting without a hint of awkward frustration. I roll out there like a red carpet to be admired.
Or, caressed by Damien’s fine-ass body. My back hits his solid chest, and I laugh at the impact. His big hand stops me from slipping to the middle of the net, and I turn until I’m in his arms. I smile up at his quiet, delicious smirk.
His hard body is all around me.
“Thought you were going to sleep in front of the door,” he says with that gentle tone that makes all his words sound like a sexy secret.
My wings spread out slowly behind me, and I love that he hasn’t let me go.
“I don’t know. I think I like it here.” I pull away until I’m staring up at the darkening sky and the glittering stars. His warm hand settles on my stomach, and my heart is all too aware of how good his hands feel on my body.
My attention drifts to the platform until I’m locking gazes with broody blue eyes. It’s a cutting gaze that’s sparking with violence.
Who hurt Zaviar so damn much that he permanently looks like an angry Muppet with someone’s hand shoved too far up his ass?
