Page 33

“It’s not normal . And I’m stuck . I can’t figure out how to turn back.”

Ezra’s hand tightens on my ankle.

“Normal is overrated. You’re…” He runs his hand over my calf, making my skin tingle. “…Stunning. Awe-inspiring.”

My mouth tips open.

“Also kind of sexy.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile that makes my heart beat wildly. “Is that weird?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling out of breath.

Ezra looms suddenly, cupping my chest over the tattered remains of my clothes. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

“Syril says my body thinks there’s still danger.” I swallow. “To you.”

“Has this happened to you before?”

“I’ve only manifested my ur-form twice, and it wasn’t like it. The opposite, in fact — I couldn’t keep it.” I look away, hiding from his gaze. “I’m supposed to be able to control it.”

He caresses my skin, leaving tingling trails across my chest. Now my heart’s beating faster for different reasons.

Everything about him is more in this form — his scent, the warmth coming off him, the soothing vibration of his voice.

His fingers glide over the hard, blunt nubs that trail in a line from my collarbone to my shoulder. My blood fizzes.

“I’m worried I’ll hurt you,” I breathe.

“You won’t.” He sits back. “I think I can help, if you want.”

My wings flutter with disappointment at the loss of his touch, but I stop myself from reaching out — I don’t feel in control of my body. “How?”

“I’ve been learning from Bear.” He holds up a familiar hank of crimson rope out of nowhere.

My breath catches. “I was going to wait, but... maybe this is the right time. To me, it sounds like part of you is safe here, but another part of you is still stuck out there. You need to bring your awareness back together, to one place and one moment. Here. Now.” He puts his hand out palm-up. “What do you think?”

Slowly, I place my hand in his, claws and all. “Okay. Yes.”

He draws me to my feet. “Let’s get your clothes off.”

I’m helpless with my new spiky appendages, so I let Ezra maneuver my top off, followed by my pants. It’s a relief when he whisks them away and I don’t have to see the remnants of my favorite jacket. He runs his fingers over all my new protrusions gently, making me blush.

“Is this okay?”

His touch raises goosebumps. “I think so.”

Soon I’m completely naked, squirming under his gaze. A trickle of heat spills through me.

“On the bed,” he says.

I get back on the bed without a speck of my usual grace, tumbling clumsily onto the mattress when my ankle catches on the bed frame. I grunt. A tearing noise comes from under my elbows and feathers burst from the duvet.

My sharp new teeth clash in frustration. “I can’t get used to this!”

“It’s okay.” Ezra picks up the rope, his voice firm and calm. “Put your hands together over your head. I’ll make sure you can’t hurt me or yourself.”

Ezra’s command seeps into my veins. I lift my hands. He rises over me, his scent filling my lungs, and a tiny bit of my tension drains away.

It’s different being tied up by Ezra than by Bear, and the contrast makes me tremble.

Bear was utterly confident and completely clinical.

Ezra is the opposite in all possible ways.

His hands are unsteady on my wrists. The way he moves my arms carefully into position is tender and thoughtful.

Every few seconds, his eyes dip and meet mine, and a tremulous smile dances at the corners of his mouth like he can’t contain it.

A jittery nervousness spills into the cavity of my chest, heat and hunger and something much, much stronger all vying for position in my heart.

I ache to press into him. To pierce him with my thorns.

To make his breath catch and his hands tighten.

The desire disturbs me and heats my blood at the same time.

After the first few knots he gets faster and more self-assured, laying each one flush and just snug enough to make the shakiness inside me melt into sparks.

I start to breathe quickly as his fingers rouse more interesting sensations, fire rising from deep inside and collecting between my legs.

I squirm until he places a hand on my chest and presses down gently but firmly.

“Settle, sweets.”

My breath leaves me in a long sigh.

“Still doing okay?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed to tell the truth — I’m much more than okay.

“You’re shivering.” He pulls the rope snug. I can’t see what he does, but suddenly my arms are being drawn up tightly. He puts one foot on the floor and looms, arms straining with effort. His musk washes over me. Even in the half-dark, his pants bulge obviously with his arousal

My mouth waters. “Let me taste you.”

The rope smacks against the headboard and he swears. “Not yet,” he rumbles, but with my newly sharpened gaze I catch his bulge twitching.

He pulls back, leaving me tied to the headboard. I tug the ropes experimentally and they hold firm.

His gaze sweeps over me. “Damn. I mean it, Lysander. You’re beautiful like this.”

My face heats, and other parts of me are quick to follow.

I force myself to look down at my ur-form.

My normally smooth skin is covered in texture — rows of hard nubs along my hips and thighs, graduating to spikes along my lower legs.

Hard ridges of deep blue protecting my ribs. Even my chest is rough and pebbled.

“Don’t look,” Ezra says as my pulse quickens. “Focus on me. Trust me. I have a plan.”

“I trust you,” I say immediately.

An uncharacteristically shy smile tugs at his lips. “I know, baby. I’ll try to be worthy of your trust.”

“You are.” The words aren’t enough — I need to show him. But I’m trapped, at his mercy.

Ezra sheds his top, then his pants, revealing an iron bar distending his black underwear. Will he fuck me like this? I suddenly want it with an intensity that takes me off guard.

My whole body floods with heat as he pushes his underwear down to expose his cock, hard, red, and wet. He glides his fist over it and groans. I jerk, arching toward him, heedless of the ripping noises underneath me. I need it. I need to be the one making him feel that, getting him to moan.

“I like seeing you tied up,” he rasps. “I’ve never done this with anyone, but with you it feels right.”

“I want to taste you,” I beg, licking my lips.

“Your teeth are a little intimidating, Lys.” He steps up to the bed, his cock waving in my face. I open my mouth automatically, and he groans. “You’re so gorgeous like this. Just a taste.”

His knuckles shiver fractionally. The tip of his cock glides over my outstretched tongue.

I hold utterly still with every fiber of my will.

His sweet-tart liquid bursts over my tastebuds and runs down my throat with my saliva.

It’s addictive. His rich scent pulses. Everything is stronger, brighter in my ur-form.

He pushes deeper and I stretch my jaw to hold my teeth away from him, letting him feel only my tongue and the soft top of my palate.

His eyes are fixed on my mouth. His lips part and he lets out a tiny whisper of a moan.

“You’re so sweet for me.” His cock withdraws, but my disappointment doesn’t last long. He captures my lips and glides his tongue right into my mouth, tasting himself on me. “I’ll tie you up and fuck your mouth another time. Would you like that?”

I shudder. Yes. I want to be helpless for him yet know he’ll give me everything I want. I whine, unable to form words.

“I think you’d agree to anything right now.” He chuckles. “But I need to get you out of your head. We’re gonna do something else.”

I gasp at the feeling of his fingers dipping between my legs. A tug deep inside makes me yelp and arch as his fingers coax my cock out of its sheath gently but firmly.

“Shh, baby, come on.” He gives me another tug.

My legs shudder and fall open. I squirm, moans spilling out of me. It’s so much in this form, feels so wrong and filthy for his hand to violate that tight little space that keeps my cock safe, but it sends lightning up and down my spine. “Ezra,” I cry, twisting. The sheets bunch around me.

“You’re out now,” Ezra murmurs, and the tugging becomes stroking, the too much- ness turning to sudden, explosive heat bursting through my abdomen. He manipulates my cock, turning my body into a vessel of pure need.

Then his touch disappears. He rummages through his discarded pants and shows me a little tube.

“What…?” I frown in confusion.

“Lubrication.”

“But I’m wet,” I tell him. “I swear I’m ready —”

“The lube is for me, babe.” He gets to his knees on the bed and straddles my hips.

Understanding clicks into place.