Page 185 of Lana Pecherczyk

The trespassing bathers burst through the curtain of water and leaped off the ledge, shifting into crows. They squawked irritably, but otherwise disappeared into the stormy night.

Heart pounding, Blake followed them through the waterfall, but skidded to a halt. Lightning cracked in the sky beyond, briefly illuminating the vast campsite fifty feet below.

Spinning, she ran toward the ancient dam wall and slapped her palms on the surface. Rain continued to pour, soaking her. Water streamed down the wall as she searched for a way toclimb, but it was all slippery. Her touch activated a glowing response, leaving a trail of blue, green, and purple in the bioluminescent moss. It gave her enough light to see that the wall was enormous and impossibly high. She couldn’t see the top. The ledge above theirs, where the water spilled from, only covered half of their platform. It was too high to reach.

River emerged from the curtain of falling water. Sparkling rivulets trickled down his warrior’s body, caressing every curve of tattooed skin. Dark eyes met hers with knowing.

Trapped.

Chapter

Fifty-Seven

Rain beat down on the settlement below. Blake tried to focus on it, tried to slow her breathing, but River was everywhere —inside her mind, in the air, and inside her aching and fevered body. His torrent of emotion flooded their bond. His need, affection, and desire infected her.

This was what she’d prayed for. This was the kind of love she wanted, something so visceral that it would rip her apart.

But if it was love, then why hadn’t he said it? Why had he flirted with those other females? He’d promised her obsession, possession. She wanted to be consumed. She wanted to feel safe. Kept. She didn’t want to feel left behind.

Fae couldn’t lie.

So why hadn’t he said those three little words back to her?

River watched her through strands of dripping blue-black hair. His wingspan opened against the backdrop of falling water and bioluminescent moss. His fingers flexed at his sides, pumping his muscles into hard relief, stomach so fucking defined it begged to be licked.

Blood from his recent fight had washed away. Most wounds had closed, but a few angry welts remained like the claw gouges on his forearms. Made by another. Made by someone Blakecouldn’t even remember right now because she was blind with territorial need. Blind with rage because the wounds had ripped through the blue Well-blessed mating marks.Hermarks.

That’s what hurt the most—that everyone else had a piece of him, too.

This was just like Jeff all over again. She’d tried to fill the gap of his attention with her followers, but it was never the same. She wasn’t enough. Rather than admitting how inadequate she felt, she stalked toward him and shoved him hard. Eyes burning. Throat tight.

“You can’t just—you stupid—gah!” She pounded her fists against him and screamed.

“Not sure what’s happening here…” River captured her wrists, effortlessly stopping her assault. “…but I like it.”

His gaze raked over her, heating with every increment of her soaked body.

“Not sure what’s happening?” Her jaw dropped. She wrenched out of his grip and walked forward, forcing them through the curtain and into the alcove with the steaming pool. “Youlikeme feeling like this?”

It glowed in here, too. Stifling. Hot. Her vision blurred. Warped.

“Blake.” His brows drew together. “Why do your emotions feel so…”

“So real? Like this isn’t part of your swooping ritual?”

“Well, I figured…” His feathers ruffled, throwing off rain.

“You figured those bloody wings would fix everything? I ripped me heart open for you, and you gave me nothing!” He tried to answer, but she wouldn’t let him, just continued advancing on him because she couldn’t do anything else. “I helped diffuse an ugly family feud down there, and what did you do?” She prodded his pectoral. “You flashed your buff body for the first bit of tail looking your way!”

She planted her palms against his chest and shoved hard. He stumbled backward, wings flaring for balance, surprise flashing across his face as his foot caught on an exposed root. He fell backward with a magnificent splash into the pool.

Water and steam displaced over the edges, briefly dampening the bioluminescent moss. Light dimmed and then flared. River’s wings spread wide as he tried to balance his footing in the water, but the waterlogged feathers dragged him down. He floundered, splashed, searching for footing or something to grasp around the edges. But as she’d learned, the moss-covered rocks were slippery. It was almost comical if she wasn’t so annoyed.

When he finally managed to sit still, back against the ancient wall, the shallow water came up to his waist. Blake hopped into the pool and waded toward him, feet slipping, half falling. She made it to him and somehow managed to climb onto his lap and lean close enough to feel his breath against her face.

“Mine,” she growled. “You’re mine, River Umbria. Not those sluts perving on you, not?—”

“Whoa, whoa.” He cupped her face, eyes widening, darting over her face. “What sluts?”