Page 44 of Lana Pecherczyk

When everyone had left the healing bay except for River and Blake, he fixed his gaze on her. She might be sexy. She might be talented with a stick of charcoal. But she was also stubborn and fragile as spun glass.

“After you, Sparkles.” He gestured toward the door.

“Now?”

“Unless you want a written invitation.”

She glanced wildly around the tiny bay. “But I haven’t packed. I have no clothes. I have no phone.” Her brow furrowed. “I mean, I don’t have any belongings.”

“You won’t need them where we’re going. Crows travel light.”

“I’m not going anywhere in this gown.”

“What’s wrong with it?” His gaze dropped to where the thin fabric strained across her ample breasts. He was sure the gown wasn’t meant to fit so snugly, but he wasn’t complaining. She had more than a generous handful. It was criminal, really—the things he could do to those breasts.

“I’ve not changed out of this gown in days.” She crossed her arms, hiding those magnificent assets from view as she hunched. “I can’t go looking like this. I’m a mess.”

Mess?

Self-loathing bled through their bond like a fresh wound. Who the fuck was this husband of hers to leave her with such broken confidence? She could wear a sack and smell like thesewers, and still her beauty would blind River. Couldn’t she see how she brightened every space simply by existing?

“Sparkles.” He tucked a silken strand of hair behind her ear. “What you call a mess, I call a visual feast.”

Goosebumps erupted across her skin. He longed to trace them with his tongue, to feel her shiver down to his marrow. His gaze caught on the open chest of coin on her bed, and his muscles tensed. He’d left them for her because he’d planned on leaving, planned on hunting Cloud alone. And if he found his former friend, River might not return at all. The money was an apology.

Reality crashed into him like a mountain of stone. He couldn’t let this mating bond dictate his life. He’d seen what happened when Guardians lost themselves in romance—they grew weak, lost focus, or spiraled into self-destructive vendettas.

Love was a liability he couldn’t afford, especially not with someone as vulnerable and displaced as Blake. He was a Guardian. He had responsibilities. Vengeance to claim.

Blake deserved someone whole. Not damaged goods like him. Yet even as the thought formed, his heart rebelled. The idea of walking away, of never seeing her again, felt like gouging out his soul.

And that terrified him more than anything Cloud could do.

“Wear whatever you fucking want,” he growled, stepping back. “Just be quick about it.”

“Quick, like an hour?”

“You won’t need these anymore.” He sidestepped her to collect the chest. Her brow furrowed as she watched him. “And don’t forget to bring your gift from the market.”

“That’s mine?” Shock rippled across her face as she glanced at the vase.

“You said you like to make broken things shine.”

“You bought that for me?”

His gut twisted at her disbelief. Was she so unaccustomed to gifts, or did she think him incapable of thoughtfulness?

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed. “I didn’t buy it. I stole it.”

“Asshole.”

He strode out, middle finger raised in a familiar gesture of defiance that now felt hollow. As he moved down the hallway, unease churned in his gut. Bringing Blake to the Great Murder was like leading a lamb to slaughter. His community could very well tear her apart just for being human. And if they discovered his crippled wings? That nest of vipers would strike without mercy.

But what choice did he have? Ash might change his mind without warning. Reclaiming the cryptex was vital to defeating Nero. And while Ada had made no formal bargain, she’d asked in good faith for his help finding a book for Aeron.

At least one of them deserved a happy ending.

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