Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Her language skills—not just comprehension, but the clarity with which she spoke—continued to impress Adam. He had the feeling it had to do with the telepathy, her mind in casual contact with Sascha’s throughout the day. It made him wonder about the vocal development of Psy children in general.
Beside him, Eleri nodded slowly at this childish explanation of flameout. “Yes. A big ouch. Perhaps we can telepath when we next meet.”
The cub was agreeable, but Sascha frowned. “Eleri, do you need an M-Psy to look you over? We have a clanmate who’s completely trustworthy.”
“No.” Eleri shook her head. “It’s the Sensitivity. It means my mind was already strained before the flameout. It’s intensified the effect.”
“Yes, that makes sense.” Shoulders easing, Sascha took Naya’s hand when Adam put the little girl down. “But please reach out if you do decide you want a consult—especially if the flameout lasts beyond the forty-eight-hour mark.”
“If she doesn’t, I will,” Adam said with a scowl, but kept it at that until after Dorian joined Sascha and Naya and the three of them headed off to the jet-chopper on the plateau.
“You should’ve told me you’re badly wounded,” he growled at Eleri, as if he was a leopard like Dorian and not a creature of the sky.
“The sensation is as expected,” Eleri said. “A sense of emptiness where my Psy abilities should be—it’s just the recovery that’s impacted by my Sensitivity. I’m less able to rebound as fast.” Eyes downcast, she turned her bare hands up, then down as if fascinated by their ungloved state.
The naked vulnerability of her in that moment speared through his worry, making him want only to wrap her up in his wings and in his affection, atone for all the years when she’d been alone in the dark, without her mate by her side. He’d fucked up and bad, the grief of the youth he’d been no excuse for how he hadn’t returned for her once he was an adult—but he planned to spend his entire life making it up to her.
Shifting close, he cupped her face in his hands. “What do you need, Eleri?” A raw question. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you. I’m your mate. I’ll go capture the moon for you if you want.”
Her fingers settled against his left wrist, the touch cooler than his own body temperature. “Today, why don’t we act…as if we just met in that hallway? As if the years and the choices of the past don’t stand between us.”
It was a kick to the gut. “Come on, then, pretty girl with the big eyes,” he said, shoving aside all other plans, including his intention to talk to her about their relationship, a mating too long suspended in amber.
The harder conversations could wait until Eleri healed.
Today, he’d give his mate what she’d asked for, be the boy she’d wanted to tend to that long-ago day. “Let me show you my lair…and seduce you into the kiss I wanted to steal the first time I saw you.”
Chapter 25
Dear Aunt Rita,
This is a weird question. I apologize in advance. But I really don’t know anyone else I can ask.
So…I have a falcon changeling friend. We’ve known each other since way back, after we ended up on the same soccer team at school. Only, um, she’s done something very strange: she flew over me the other day—I knew it was her from the markings—and dropped a hunk of meat in my arms.
It was wrapped up in butcher’s paper, and had the seal of a local shop, so I thought she’d dropped her groceries and waited for her to come back. But she didn’t, just sent me a message saying: Did you like it? I got you the prime cut.
Then yesterday, she hovered over me with a package until I opened my arms out of desperation…and caught a roasted leg of lamb sealed up in tinfoil, complete with rosemary sprigs. It was still warm from the oven.
Does my friend need help? Like, should I call a psychiatrist? Please help.
~Soccer Fiend
Dear Soccer Fiend,
This seems to be the edition of the column with food-related queries. I have to say, however, of all the queries I’ve answered over the years, yours is the first one that has made me cackle so hard I couldn’t see through the tears.
I do apologize for my response. It’s just that I thought I’d heard of every food-related shenanigan there was…but no, the raptors always take it to the next level. I suppose bears would do the same if they could fly—literally food bomb the targets of their ardor.
You are beloved, my dear Fiend. However, if you don’t reciprocate your friend’s affections, this could get awkward. If that is the case, then the next time you receive a delivery, you should go immediately to their nesting place and gently hand it back to them saying thank you, but that you don’t need it.