Rafe hadn't understood then, but he did now, the changes in his body too many to count. The unending heat. The extra weight of his limbs. The shifts in his senses. The trickster god had played with his fate once more, and like a fool Rafe had fallen for the bluff.
Taetanos, you bastard.
He jumped to his feet and dropped Lyana's hand as he backed away. Lured by fascinated horror, he glanced slowly over his shoulder. Fire rippled over onyx as his leathery wings, made not of feathers but of skin, expanded. Scales glistened along the top edge, the cracks between them glowing orange, and two sharp points jutted out like claws. He reached behind, slid his hand beneath his tattered shirt, and tentatively pressed his fingers to the joint where his wings met his back. The scales were smoother than he thought they'd be, like polished steel, and sharp enough to cut if he wasn't careful. Though he knew they must be hot, they didn't burn. At least, they didn’t burn him.
Lyana tried to hide her hand within the folds of her ivory jacket, now speckled with spots of soot, but he saw. The pads of her fingers were slightly redder than usual, as though touching him had left a subtle mark.
"Rafe."
She reached for him, but he stumbled back. "Stay away."
"You don't scare me."
"I should," he snapped, the fire in his gut mixing with his fury and his pain, as though a dragon and not a raven was what he should have been all along. Smoke burst through his open lips as the heat in his throat flared. Rafe covered his mouth, his head shaking in denial, and spoke through his fingers. "I'm a monster."
"You're not, Rafe. You're not."
She stepped forward, and he stepped away, tripping on a piece of broken wood. His wings opened to stabilize him, but all he saw were the flames rippling with each motion. Needing the truth, he breathed into his palms and let the fire in his heart unleash. As he pulled his hands away, his fingers blazed.
Fire cursed.
He heard the taunts in the back of his mind, the ones he'd spent his entire life trying to ignore, trying to disprove. Yet the ravens had been right. He was exactly what they'd always feared him to be.
"I'm Vesevios come to life."
"You're not."
"How can you say that?" He stared at the flames encasing his hands up to his wrists, not burning him, though he could feel their heat. Then he found her eyes through the blaze. "Look at me, Lyana. Look at me."
"I am looking at you," she said, willing him to hear. "And I see the same man I've always seen, brave and loyal, with a kinder soul than he wants anyone to believe."
"You don't. You can't."
"I do."
Her magic shot across the distance between them, golden and godly, and enveloped him in its splendor. She wasn't trying to hold him or force him, just to reach him at a level no one aside from her had ever been able to touch. The fire simmering around his hands disappeared back into his skin. As she took one step after another closer to him, he could have moved, but he didn't. She stopped with no more than a few inches between them and brushed her fingers against his. Rafe flinched, pulling his arms away.
"Don't—"
Lyana reached out and took his palms, not letting him flee. No fear shone in her eyes, only that sparkle he never thought he deserved.
"I'm hurting you," he said.
"You're not."
"I'm burning you."
"You're not."
Holding his gaze, she moved their joined hands and pressed his palms against her waist. If his touch caused her pain, she didn't show it. They stayed like that for a moment, as though she was afraid he might try to run away. No matter the consequences, he'd never been able to run anywhere except toward her. Lyana lifted her fingers to skim his torso, then left one palm against his chest as the other continued to rise. She ran her fingers through his hair, sending a soothing shiver down his spine, and cupped his cheek. Her thumb brushed over his skin.
"Rafe," she said, her voice deep and dangerously alluring. "If there's one thing I know, despite everything that's happened between us, it's that you will never hurt me."
"I might."
"You won't."
"I—" He closed his eyes against the truth and dropped his forehead until it touched hers, breathing in her magic and her spirit, letting the sensation of her ground him as nothing ever had before. He'd spent so much of his life building his walls and hiding behind them, he still didn’t know how to be open and honest. But there was nothing he wanted more than for someone to see him, to truly see him, and not turn away. "Ana," he murmured, his heart thumping in his chest. "I'm afraid."
"Look at me, Rafe. Please, look at me."
Her voice wrapped around him like a cocoon, so safe and warm that his eyes slid open before he could stop them. He and Lyana were so close he could see nothing in the world but her, the dark planes of her skin, the vibrant greens of her irises, the ebony depths of her pupils made somehow bright by the emotions swirling within them.
"I'm afraid, too," she confessed, his breath halting at the words. "I'm afraid of so many things. I'm afraid I'll forever be trapped in a life I'm not sure I want. I'm afraid I'm not the person so many people need me to be. I'm afraid of my failure. I'm afraid of my success. I'm afraid I'll never be free. I'm so afraid, Rafe, and yes, I'm even afraid of you. But not of your wings or of this new spirit you share. The only thing about you that's ever scared me is the feelings you stir inside my heart, because I can't fight them, no matter what I do."
He inhaled sharply, finally remembering to breathe. A sting burned the corners of his eyes as his chest swelled.
"If you must be afraid of yourself," she whispered, "be afraid of the courageous and caring man I see when I look at you, because trust me, Rafe, he's a fearsome sight to behold."
He didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent.
Rafe stayed where he was, holding her as she held him, willing time to stop so he could stay in this moment forever.
47
Malek
A groan spilled from Malek's lips and he blinked the dark spots from his eyes. Ash filled his lungs as he sucked in a deep breath, then immediately coughed, his chest burning. Splintered pieces of wood clinked against the ground with the movement and sharp edges cut into his back, the debris of the warehouse. He'd finished the soul joining, and started to leave, then…
Lyana.
She hadn't wanted to come with him. She'd wanted to stay by the raven's side. He’d tried to force her to come, but she held him off, her power stronger than he'd ever felt before. As though she and raven were one force, he'd been pushed from the table, across the room and almost to the door, when the world exploded.
Lyana!
Ignoring his own pain, Malek jumped to his feet as his heart lurched. Why hadn't she come with him? Didn’t she know by now she was more important than anyone else? Especially a raven with no use beyond his magic? The world needed her. He needed her. If she was hurt— If she was gone— If—
Malek turned and froze, unable to process what he was seeing.