Her wings opening was just as painful as it looked when Cael did it, and the tone of her scream changed from terror to pain. For a moment, the sails of flesh and feather fought the drag of gravity and it seemed to be a losing battle before the descent evened out, making her gasp, and pulling painfully against her shoulder blades that already protested under the new extension of bone and sinew.
An up-current of air caught her, slamming her into the glass windows of the building, knocking the breath out of her, the glass shuddering under the impact, and reminding her of the many times she had seen pigeons collide into windows, knocking themselves senseless, or breaking their necks.
Cael’s derisive laughter made her realize that he had not left her to fall alone, as he peeled her off the glass. “A natural flyer, you are not,” he mocked her, holding her waist, and using his wings to direct them both in a slow descent to the rooftop of a lower building. “There you go,” he said as her feet found purchase on the rooftop.
“Oh my god,” her heart was beyond racing, it was thudding so fast in her chest that one beat melted into the next. She braced her hands on her knees, bending over at the waist, trying to regain her breath. “Oh, my f-king lord.”
Her wings were a heavy counterbalance, dragging her equilibrium back and forcing her to use her core muscles. She understood why Cael’s stomach definition was so edibly good. Her shoulders and back already complained about the unfamiliar and sudden change in distribution of weight, and she had not built up the core strength to compensate.
“I have f-king wings,” she exclaimed, astounded curling them around her shoulders so she could scrutinize the feathers. “Black ones, like my mum,” that pleased her. “And I am so going to need a massage. My mother never mentioned how f-king heavy these things are.”
“Falling never fails,” he was pleased with himself, smug with it. “The feather colours are hereditary,” he added conversationally. “Like hair and eye colour, so it makes sense that you would have black wings like your mother.”
“You pushed me off a twenty-eight-storey building,” she accused him without heat because he had immediately leapt after her in order to catch her should her wings not open, and answered the question, she decided, of his commitment to her.
“It wasn’t as high as I would have liked,” he looked up at the building. “The timing was quite tight.”
She threw herself at him, making him take a step backwards as he absorbed the impact of their bodies. She dragged his mouth down to hers and ravished him as she shoved the oversized sweat-pants she wore down her legs so that she could climb him like a tree. He laughed into her mouth as he adjusted against her, his grip on her arse supporting her weight as he rocked his hips into her.
“I should push you off buildings more often,” he said against her jaw.
“Shut up an f-k me whilst I am still on a high from nearly dying.”
“You weigh more with your wings,” he complained as he adjusted his grip on her buttocks and she tightened the grip of her legs around his hips. His arm muscles stood out with his effort to hold her whilst he angled his hips to hers, and she stroked her hands up them with a purr of enjoyment.
“You need the exercise. I like good arms on my men,” she told him.
He was working up a sweat, his eyes at half-mast as he thrusted up and into her. She gripped his shoulders and shoved her body against his strokes, causing him to groan and almost unbalancing him. He widened his stance and his wingspread, the feathers flaring out grandly behind him, and his buttocks clenching beneath her heels as his movements became jerky.
“Oh no you don’t,” she told him breathlessly. “Not until I do.”
“Then f-king hurry up,” he said between his teeth, his eyes almost closed, the blue a glitter between the gold of his lashes.
She pressed her hand between them, rubbing herself, until she brought herself to the edge, and over, and his groan was filthy with his release. She felt the heat of him within her and cursed as she remembered that condoms had slipped her mind in all the activity of the day.
He laughed. “You swear like a soldier.”
“We forgot condoms.”
He grunted as he shrugged, shifting his hold on her legs. “You might as well bear me an heir before Elior turns you, as after I do not think we will be compatible.” He eased out of her and set her to the ground with a moan.
“Shit.” She tugged the sweat-pants back on. There was a logic to what he said, but she wasn’t ready for a baby. “What would happen if he turned you?”
His expression blanked. “I… don’t know. I assume it would work, as it did on your mother.”
“Maybe we will just get him to turn us both, that way we will be able to have kids later on.”
“That could be… entertaining,” Cael was intrigued by the prospect.
“If it works,” she added pessimistic after her experiences at trying to turn wolf had turned out so dismally. “It might not. Just because I have wings, does not mean that I can be turned. I guess we need to fly back up, now,” she looked up with dread. “It is an awfully long way.”
“It is not that far. But we may not have the opportunity,” his attention had been diverted to the street below them. “It looks like the humans are concentrating their attack on the correct building.”
She looked over the edge and saw three familiar figures of the Wingless. “They are working with the humans,” she muttered. “What is the bet, they got the humans to flag the name Grenmeyer and when I applied for a passport it popped up and told them exactly where to find me. When the humans decided to go against the vampires, their first step was to get rid of me, so that if my blood was like my mum’s, the vampires couldn’t get to me. Big mistake,” she told them. “Big. Made me run straight to Elior. Bet that stung.”
One of them reacted to something a human in uniform said, and for a moment they conferred, pointing at Elior’s building.
“Dad’s wrong,” she said. “The humans know about the Other world already, or at least big chunks of it. The Wingless have told them. Look at them, all friends and buddies. I bet they have been working together a lot over the last couple of decades. Where is my bag of Alatar’s tricks when I need them?” She grumbled. “I could just about hit them with a hair-hair-everywhere curse from here.”
“Hair-hair-everywhere,” Cael repeated, his lips curling in the corners as he fought back a grin. The laughter won as a very undignified snort of sound that caused his eyes to water before he smothered it. “Excuse me,” he said, before turning away as it won again, his shoulders shaking.
She grinned, enjoying his mirth. “It would certainly distract them for a time.”
“Stay here,” he decided, and leapt into the air.
She watched him gain height effortlessly above her, until he disappeared from sight. She watched the Wingless and the humans discuss their options and plan of attack. “Boy, I would love to distract you right now,” she said grimly. “Buy us some time, too.” Her attention was caught by a familiar figure skulking along a building to her left.
“Oh, dad,” she grumbled. “You and Alatar aren’t as discrete as you think you are.”
Cael landed with a thud that implied the speed of his descent, his wings whipping her hair across her face and lifting dirt in eddies along the rooftop. He was holding the canvas bag of Alatar’s spells, and his sword.
“Here,” he passed the bag to her. “I want to see this hair-hair-everywhere spell.”
She grinned at him. “I love you.”
“I know,” his grin was broad. “There’s your dog-father and his pet warlock trying to get themselves caught,” he added with disgust. “I could walk the streets with my wings spread with more stealth.”
“I was thinking almost the same thing,” she agreed. She dug into the canvas bag and lined the spells up on the edge of the roof before her. “Besides the hair-hair-everywhere pouch, I am not entirely sure what these are. I was sort of grabbing randomly at one point there. So, this will be interesting.”
Their eyes met, and he raised his eyebrows. “Have at it then, my mate.”
“Alright,” she palmed one, weighing it. “Let’s hope all those street-cricket games hold true.”
She eyed up her targets, took a few steps back, ran forwards, and hurled the pouch out across the street before grasping the raided roof edge in order to breathlessly watch its passage. It hit the uniformed human, showering him with spell components.
“Hair-hair-everywhere,” she murmured, as the spell delivered, and the human sprouted an overgrowth of hair, covering him from head to foot, the long locks curling out along the ground. His astonishment was comical.
The Wingless, caught in the cast off, sprouted hair unevenly, the men’s facial hair growing impressively, and the woman resembling Rapunzel. They looked around, puzzled, trying to determine the origin of the spell.
“Aha,” Cael chortled. “Next one.”
She took up the next pouch and repeated. There was a moment of chaos as the tarmac turned to tar, army tanks and vehicles sinking unevenly, and soldiers becoming trapped in the black. Sirens wailed off tune, and screams rang out as those trapped fought for freedom.
She seized the next one and threw it. A gust of wind sent it a little wild, but the effect was awesome, as the air filled with glitter sifting in pinks and purples over the humans that fought to free the trapped from the tar pits.
“Oh dear,” she clapped a hand over her eyes and peeked between her fingers. “Lust spell.”
“Oh f-k,” Cael’s jaw hung open. “That… That’s a bit disturbing, even for me. Ouch.” He sucked in air on a grimace. “Someone is going to be sore tomorrow. What else have you got?” His eyes lit with wickedness. “More lust spells?”
She took up the last pouch. “One final mystery pouch. Hopefully it keeps them busy enough that Alatar and dad get in.”
She threw the pouch, and they leaned over the edge of the roof expectantly. “Oooo,” she shrieked as the street below exploded into feathers. “Tar and feathers, now I remember!”
She and Cael clung to each other as they laughed until they cried watching the chaos unfold below them.
“Ah,” she fought for breath “I have to stop before I pee myself.”
“Well, that looks like it will keep them busy for a while,” Cael blew out a breath, recovering himself. “And your father and Alatar managed to get into the building. Let’s give your new wings a work-out and see if we can get some sleep before we are needed.”
“Oh, god,” she flicked them out, stretching out her ligaments, the feathers fluffing. “I am not sure if I can get a handle on them. I flew into a f-king window like a dazzled pigeon.”
“Yes,” he was amused. “That you did. But I will help you. Come on, my mate.” He stepped up onto the low wall that ringed the roof and held out a hand to her. “Let me teach you to fly.”
She swallowed her misgivings and hung the canvas bag over her head and shoulder before reaching up for his hand and letting him pull her up onto the ledge. “Now what?”
“Wings out,” he stretched his to their full expanse. “And then you want to strike them,” he demonstrated, generating a strong wind that whipped their hair forwards. He watched her do the same. “Not bad,” he decided, keeping a hold of her hand. “On the count of three.”
“One,” she said.
“Two,” his eyes laughed at her.
“Three.” She leapt with him, her wings catching the air.
He kept hold of her hand, and helped her angle into the currents, coasting in a zig-zag from one building to the other, slowly gaining height. She saw a couple eating dinner spill their wine, their jaws dropping as she and Cael pushed off from their window.
Finally, they landed on the roof, and Cael kissed her.
“Well done.” He was tired, she could see it from the hang of his wings as he closed them against his back. She could the muscle fatigue through her neck and shoulders, and exhaustion dragged at the edges of her mind, making her thoughts slow and her eyes heavy.
“Must sleep,” she told him. “Very tired.”
“Yes,” he agreed, and they wrapped their arms around each other as they made their way across the roof until the narrow passage of the stairwell and their wings width forced them to take the stairs down in single file.
They returned to Elior’s apartment, their feet tangling in Cael’s discarded clothing, and he crawled straight into the bed, lying face down onto the mattress, his wings spread over his back, as she retrieved Alister’s phone and called Serena.
He was snoring by the time Serena picked up.
“My dad and the warlock arrived, have you got them?” Ashlynn was so weary it hurt to stay awake.
“Yes,” Serena sounded cheerful. “Apparently we are expecting others. The warlock is reinforcing the front entrance of the building in case the humans try to attack again. They are somewhat distracted at the moment however in a most entertaining way.”
“Yes, I threw a few distractions their way,” Ashlynn smothered her laughter. “Alright, Cael and I will try to get some rest, and join you downstairs soon. If you can let my dad know, so he doesn’t come looking for me, I would appreciate it.”
“I will pass the message to him.”
Ashlynn slid into the bed next to Cael, her wings awkward and explaining Cael’s face-down sleeping position. She had another call to make, however before she did likewise.
She waited, listening to the ring of the phone until her mother answered.
“Hi mum.”
“Ashlynn,” her mother did not sound as worried as she had the last call. “Your father is where you are?” She did not phrase it as a question, so much as looking for confirmation of something she already knew. She must have been tracking him via scrying, Ashlynn thought.
“Yes, he arrived a little while ago. I am about to try to get some sleep, but I wanted to let you know that he is fine, and I wanted to speak to Elior.”
“Thank you, Ash,” her mum blew her a kiss down the line, and Ashlynn heard a murmured conversation a moment before Elior answered the phone.
“Ashlynn,” he said, the background noise changing as he moved rooms, finding somewhere quiet and more private she suspected. “Are you unharmed?”
“I am fine, Elior,” she closed her eyes and tried to imagine him. He would be still wearing her dad’s one good suit, his hair would be caught back at the nape of his neck in a low ponytail, and his piercing grey eyes would be tired in his pretty face. Imagining was not as good as the real thing. “I miss you.”
“Ashlynn,” his tone was soft and intimate. “I miss you too.”
“I have wings.” There was no other way to say it, she reasoned, other than outright.
“Not entirely surprising, considering your heritage,” he replied.
“Cael says falling triggers wingspread. His people do it with their young.”
“Do I want to know how you discovered your wings?” His tone was amused.
“Cael pushed me off the roof above your apartment. Which we’re in, by the way. In your bed, too. And your track suits, for that matter.”
He chuckled. “Of course, you are. I wish I were in it with you.”
“Yeah, so do I,” she sighed. “So, Cael thinks you will be able to turn me now.”
“Does he?” He murmured it.
“And maybe him as well.”
“Is that what you want, Ashlynn? For me to turn you both?”
“Well, werewolves live longer than humans and age slower, but we don’t know if that will apply to me,” she pointed out. “I am a big question mark in that regard, not fully a wolf, not fully one of Cael’s people. You and Cael, on the other hand, won’t age or die. Or at least, I don’t think he will. He made a comment about centuries earlier…” She glanced at the blonde man who slept beside her.
“Something we will discuss at length when this is over, certainly,” there was a weariness to his voice that worried her. It echoed the weariness that she felt.
“Are you getting some sleep, Elior?” She asked him in concern.
“I laid down on your bed for a couple hours earlier,” his tone held a smile. “It still smelt of you and Cael. I had the worst hard-on as a result.”
She laughed, delighted by the confession. “Did you take care of yourself in the shower imagining me?”
“And now it is back,” he said ruefully.
“Ah, my poor vampire.”
“What is the situation there?” He asked.
“We have abandoned the other buildings and the stronghold, and the vampires are all in your building. Dad and Alatar – have you met Alatar? He is a warlock?”
“I don’t remember,” he admitted.
“Ah, well, never mind. They are fortifying the building against attack. The forces outside are distracted for the moment, anyway. I had some spells left that I took from Alatar’s magic shop, which I threw at them to keep them busy for a couple of hours, so that Cael and I can get some sleep.”
The devil snored loudly and Elior laughed. “Which Cael is doing, evidently.”
“Yeah, he is tuckered. Fighting all day with that heavy sword. He didn’t even retract his wings before falling asleep. Something I have to figure out to do.” She sighed heavily. “Another time. I should get some sleep too. I just wanted to hear your voice before I did.”
“I am glad you called. I was missing your voice.”
“And the rest of me, apparently,” she smirked.
“Very much,” he agreed. “Go to sleep, now, Ashlynn.”
“You too, Elior. I love you.”
“I love you too.”