Page 83 of Gray
A week had passed since we’d learned we were mates. Alastair had stolen him away every morning to discuss the war and where to station the hunters. Some had chosen to go their separate ways when learning of our alliance with vampires and werewolves, but a majority had stayed.
My feelings for Mason had deepened in the past week too. We’d had a lot of sex, but the real intimacy came from when he held me while I napped, and how when I woke up, I’d find him playing with my hair. Sometimes, he’d be napping too.
“Okay, it’s been a full minute and you haven’t said a word.” Mason looked down at me. “Say something, or I’ll think you’ve been body snatched.”
“Ssh. I’m thinking.”
“That’s a little scary.”
“Hush, you.” My blood heated as the wind gently blew, carrying his scent with it.
Another smell hit me then too, the rot and dirt from earlier but stronger now. My ears picked up a faint sound of soil being disturbed not far from us.
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm and cocked my head to the right. “Hear that?”
Mason listened for a moment. “Digging. But I thought the bodies here weren’t fresh.”
“They’re not. Sometimes ghouls rebury what’s left of the bodies they’ve eaten. Don’t ask me why.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Mason raised his gun and arched a brow. “Let’s go smoke these fuckers.”
Four ghouls crouched beside a raised crypt. One dug a hole while the others fought over a decayed human arm. Once upon a time, the sight would’ve repulsed me. I was used to it now.
“Don’t you uglies know how to share?” I asked before spreading my wings and propelling toward them, sword drawn.
When they screeched, it sounded like that noise Gollum made fromLord of the Rings: a coughing gasp. I decapitated the one digging the hole while Mason shot the one currently in possession of the rotten arm. As the silver bullet went through its brain, it jolted and fell backward.
One of the others snatched the arm and tried to escape, its long body bent forward as it ran, its lanky limbs carrying it across the grass and toward the trees.
Mason took aim and shot it in the back of the head. He smirked at me. “Last one’s yours, angel.”
Smiling, I flapped my wings and lifted a foot off the ground. The ghoul snapped at me, drool seeping from the corner of its wide, gaping mouth. I sliced it in half, the celestial blade cutting through it like butter.
“Piece of cake.” I landed back on the ground and wiped off my blade. “Speaking of cake, I want some. Think Ray would bake me one?”
Mason holstered his gun before pulling me against him. “Does Raiden ever need a reason to eat cake?”
“True.” As I rested my cheek over his heart, my wings slowly folded around him. It was the first time I’d ever held him that way. He didn’t move. He barely breathed. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he said on an exhale, snaking his arms around my waist.
“You hold me all the time,” I whispered, nuzzling his shirt. “I wanna hold you sometimes too.”
Mason lightly touched one of my wings. “Your feathers are so soft.”
“The ends are kinda sharp. Like tiny blades.”
“Tiny suits you.”
“Nothing more romantic than this, right?” I beamed up at him. My wings blocked what little moonlight managed to penetrate the thick fog, but I could still see him perfectly: the sharp angle of his jaw and his full bottom lip that tasted just as good as it looked.
“Cuddling with you in a graveyard? Yeah. Nothing beats it.”
Smiling, I pulled away from him. “Let’s go home.”
I wobbled as I tried to take a step.
“Sleepy?” Mason’s arms came back around me.
