Page 9 of Twi-Flight (Ghostlight Falls #6)

Chapter Seven

I have to walk to Birds of a Feather. The barn is already closed for the night when I get there.

It’s not too late but the lights in Eggward’s office are turned off.

For a moment I wonder if he’s actually left home for the evening, and then I see every window in my dad’s old house is lit up.

Like little golden memories floating through the evening dusk towards me.

I take a deep reassuring breath and then walk toward the brightness calling to me.

The front door has a fresh coat of sage green paint and the knob is unlocked when I test it. My heart is pounding when I take the first step inside in more than a month.

It’s like stepping back into the past, and experiencing something completely new simultaneously.

The front room is well-lit. It’s set up like a dining room, with a long dark wood table and six mismatched chairs, the alcove under the stairs has been repurposed into a neat desk area.

The floor is refinished, and crude curtains made from a drop cloth hang from the front windows.

Through an expanded doorway the kitchen is in a similar state. The fireplace is cleaned and straightened. There’s no counter installed but the new cabinets look very appropriate next to appliances with plastic stickers still on the front.

To my left is the door to the living room, with nothing much in it but a cheap used couch shoved against freshly painted soft lilac walls, and there’s a new light fixture hanging in the center of the room.

In its half-fixed state this house still feels more homey than my current living situation. My chest swells with the pain and joy of nostalgia.

“It’s not done yet.” Eggward’s voice appears in my ear and when I whip around he’s walking down the stairs.

He’s not wearing his cloak now, his brilliant plumage on display.

The light is glancing rainbows off his dark feathers like an oil spill.

The hard line of his beak is a perfect contrast to his soft feathers. He looks beautiful.

“I—It—looks really—lovely—great.” The words come out of my mouth all jumbled.

“I was waiting to show you until it was finished.” His clawed feet finally clatter against the wood floor.

“Should I go?” I step toward the door, even though I really don’t want to.

“Stay, please!” His plea comes out almost panicked. He reaches for me, and I find myself pulled toward him without meaning to. “When you went home, I thought maybe—that it was too much for you.”

“No! Oh gosh Eggward! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to—I am so glad that you told me.” I take a couple steps toward him, before I stop myself. I offer him a smile. “There’s nothing you could have told me that would change the way I feel about you.”

His expression relaxes. “I’s good that you’re here now. You can pick out the last few paint samples.”

I give him a hesitant chuckle. “Still not confident enough to choose your own wall colors? Everything looks great so far.”

“Because you picked all of these.”

I laugh more easily this time, and then recognize. I did pick these colors. When we’d fixed up the main shed, we’d discussed more than just office colors. I’d discussed my dream home, and the way I’d decorate it.

Without thinking I dart past him into the bedroom and catch myself on the door frame.

Dusty rose walls, soft and warm. With a plush deep green area rug to ground the room.

The bed is positioned perfectly. There’s a cozy ditzy floral duvet, and three full pillows for both sides of the bed.

Everything I’d flirtily described wanting in my ideal bedroom while we’d been looking at paint samples. I hear myself gasp.

“What? Why?” I ask without thinking.

“It’s for you.” His voice appears..

I glance and he’s standing in the other doorway of the bedroom.

“This is for you,” he says. “I didn’t want you sleeping on your friend’s couch anymore.”

I stifle a laugh. “No, this is your new home.”

“I want you to have it,” he says.

“No, you paid me for it. You were going to live here yourself?—”

“I want you to have a reason,” he interrupts. He’s standing completely still, staring at just me. Without his cape and the hood hiding his face, I can see his expression. The deep calm in his eyes. “A reason to stay in Ghostlight Falls.”

My heart squeezes. “I already have a reason to stay.” I put a hand on his chest. “You’ve already given me one.”

His eyes track the movement, and his breathing rises and falls under my touch. He puts a hand overtop mine, clutching me tighter to his chest.

My free hand raises to his face without meaning to. I run my thumb across his sharp beak, then wrap my fingers around his waddle so I can pull his face a little closer to mine, and I press a kiss to the hard line of his mouth.

His arm tightens around me. For a split second I fear I’ve gone too far.

But he relaxes and leans into me, his beak splitting open to let our mouths mingle.

His tongue is thick and textured. It’s everything I expected it to be, strong and commanding.

His kiss is hungry and hard before he finally pulls back again, leaving me breathless and flushed.

“I’ve wondered what you’d taste like since the day we met. ”

“Did I meet your expectations?”

“Exceeded my wildest dreams.” He pushes a strand of my hair away from my forehead.

I love how breathless I make him. I love the way that he holds me close. I love him. I want to say all of that to him.

He slants his beak over my mouth, his tongue delving into my mouth.

Pouring a molten heat into me with a steady stroking rhythm.

Swallowing my soft moans. I tilt my hips up toward him, his hand finding my thigh and pulling it up, around his own thigh.

His hands find my ass and his fingers kneed into my skin until I’m gasping into his mouth.

There’s no doubt now that he wants me, that he’s been desiring me.

His beak and tongue traveling down my shoulder, across my neck.

Nipping, licking, devouring me. I finally get to really touch him.

To feel the places I’ve been imagining for weeks.

To run my fingers through his feathers, to explore the curves of his body.

I move a hand across the soft swell of his belly to the top of his pants.

He pulls gently away, stopping my offense.

I tighten my fingers on his arms, needing more from him. I finally have him, and I am not ready to let go yet.

“Mina.” He puts a reverence on the syllables that makes me feel like a queen. “Are you sure you want—this?”

I almost laugh. “Now you are the one being stupid. You are the only thing I want.”

“I don’t want you to think that—staying here is contingent on?—”

I glance at the bed behind me, and then reach down to pull my own shirt over my head, revealing my plain nude bra.

His attention is immediately drawn to my chest, and he makes a growling noise deep in his throat.

“I’ll stay here. But it’s contingent on your spending the first night here with me.

I couldn’t possibly be comfortable here all alone. ”

He scoops me up into his arms, his mouth making another assault on mine, my legs wrap around his torso. The heat accosting every part of me.

He spreads me over the bed. Leaning back to admire, making a satisfied noise in his throat like he’s actually accomplished something.

I grin and reach down to the button of my jeans. His hands land on top of mine, taking a slow care as he peels the pants from my legs. His hands take time to caress every part of my legs as he removes them and tosses them over his shoulder.

He dips down between my legs, his mouth finding all my sensitive places.

The smooth hardness of his beak is a startlingly perfect contrast to his wet textured tongue.

Every tense moment we’ve had together, every time I’ve watched his forearms, every small compliment he paid me come to a head.

All my unrequited feelings, swell up inside me, pushing me forward.

My hand locks, knuckles deep, into his comb and my hips tilt to grind up against his mouth until I’m screaming his name as I come.

It’s almost embarrassingly fast, and embarrassingly strong.

My body quaking with aftershocks I have to pull him away with repeated apologies.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve waited so long for this.” Eggward says as he moves his mouth up my body and plants a sloppy wet kiss against my mouth, our tongues mingling. He tastes like me. I love it.

“You are a mess,” I say, wiping my release from his waddle.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he’s running his fingers through my hair, and then all over my body. Lighting that unrelenting heat through me. I reach again for the waist of his pants and he again pulls away.

“Sorry.” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to cross a boundary.”

“No—it’s not that.” His tone is nervous.

I don’t say anything. I just reposition so I can run my hand over his chest. Enjoying the way that he feels under my touch. If he never moved again, and just let me touch him like this forever I would be happy. But He shivers when I finally reach his neck.

“You should know that I don’t look like regular men.” He’s leaning back on the bed, his legs straddling mine, pinning me to the bed, but he’s out of my reach.

“I think that’s already apparent.” I try to make my smile reassuring.

He nods, and looks to the ceiling, avoiding my gaze as he reaches for his pants.

I watch eagerly, excited to see more of his body. The fabric drops to the floor and between his legs is—downy feathers and a gentle curve. I turn my head to the side, looking for the problem.

“I have a cloaca.” He says.

For a split second my brain breaks and then I regain my consciousness. “Perfect.” I say. It’s not what I expected. But nothing about his body could change my mind at this point.

He doesn’t laugh, but I can see the relief flood through his body.

He dips in to kiss me again. There’s a revitalized purposefulness to it.

Like the goal has changed, from ‘me’ to ‘us’.

And I welcome him into my embrace, his knee pressing between my legs, our hands exploring each other.

I let him lead, not sure what he needs from me, but knowing that I’m willing to give it to him.

Finally, he lifts my leg, and slides forward, threading our limbs together so he can rub his warm wet slit over my clit.

The friction and pressure are so perfect, it’s better than I expected.

I dig my fingers into the soft feathers of his face, pulling it down close to my own.

Soon there’s nothing I’m saying but his name and the lord’s.

Our breathing matches as he picks up the pace and my pleasure is cresting as he grinds forward and spills warm heat into and onto me.

He holds me tight to his chest as we both try to calm our panting and I’m hanging onto him like he’s the last bastion of hope in this imperfect world.

“That was—perfect.” After a long moment of peace he pulls back to look into my eyes.

“It was,” I agree, putting a hand up to his face. He presses his cheek into my palm.

“I’ll clean you up,” he says before wrapping his beak around my thumb in a playful bite before he leaves the bed.

I’m half asleep when he returns with a warm washcloth to gently wipe me down. I barely wait for him to finish before I am reaching to tug him down onto the bed beside me, so I can press my face into his downy plumage and I quickly fall asleep with his comforting scent filling my nose.