Page 77 of Claimed By the Mothman

He flapped his wings and rose again, higher, past the reach of chimneys and into the night sky.

Nell laughed. “I’ve never—” she began, then shook her head, eyes shining. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this.”

He tightened his hold just slightly. “I am honored to be the one to help you feel it.”

For a time, there was nothing else. Just wind and wings and the woman in his arms. He could have flown all night. Flown forever, if it meant he could keep her there.

But finally, his wings started to ache. The weight of another being was not something they were built for, not for long. Regretfully, he turned back to Greymarket Towers. They landed gently back on his balcony, the wind curling around them one last time in a parting caress.

He set her down, hands lingering at her waist for half a heartbeat too long. The bond keened in longing as he let go.

She didn’t pull away. She stood close to him, wrapped in the scent of sky and wind. Still glowing faintly with the memory of wonder. The humming between them stretched and grew taut, wanting and yearning to close the distance.

He looked down at her, flight-mussed hair, cheeks flushed with cold, eyes wide. He could feel the longing in her. But she could also taste her confusion and grief.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Her brows drew together with a tiny crease of pain.

And because he loved her—he loved her—the words burst from him before he could stop them.

“Even if you reject me,” he said softly, voice low and breaking, “I will protect you. I meant it from the beginning, Nell, but now I am sure of what I vow.”

He swallowed. Locked eyes with her startled green ones.

“I will protect you from the Lustrum’s claim if you do not choose mine. I will take you somewhere safe, where it cannot call, and you may break the bond then, if that is your will. I only—” his voice cracked, and he started again. “I only ask that you give me notice, so I may prepare.”

She made a small, wounded sound of protest and he raised a hand to silence her.

“I will bear the weight,” he said gently. “Because you are not mine to keep unless you choose to be. And I will not force you to choose.”

His chest rose and fell with the effort. The vow coiled through his bones, binding itself to marrow and instinct. Harbingers did not make promises lightly, no, especially not with a half-sealed bond pulsing like an open wound.

Nell stepped back. “I should go,” she said softly.

Her voice barely rose above the hush between them. Her eyes dropped from his—too fast, like she couldn’t bear to look at him any longer without giving something away.

He nodded. Didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides. She looked back up at him, her face unreadable. She stepped forward, barely, and raised her hand to graze against his cheek. “Thank you, Sig.” she whispered.

She stroked his cheek once more, and then turned, walking slowly from the balcony. He heard the click of the apartment door as it shut behind her.

The space she left behind ached.

He stayed on the balcony long after her scent had faded into the wind, until the bond dimmed from a song to a sob. Until the ache in his chest gave way to something quieter—

—something akin to hope.

Chapter 15

The mark between her thighs wouldn’t shut up.

It beat like a second heart. Older. Relentless. Tuned to a frequency she didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

She tried to silence it. She buried herself in tasks—memos, stacks, endless manuscripts. But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her breath caught on nothing. Her spine tingled every time someone brushed behind her in the stacks.

She found herself wandering to the Cryptobiology wing. Staring at a chart on insect mating rituals with her pulse roaring in her ears. Her fingers hovered over a line about clasping appendages that locked their mates in place.

She slammed the book shut so hard the shelf wheezed.