AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Suddenly, he broke away, muscles tensing. He rubbed a finger across her lower lip. “Delicious. But likely bad for my health.”
Cold without his kiss, she fluttered her hands, smoothing her skirt.
His words were teasing, but he stripped her with his eyes, leaving her naked, her soul bared to his view. Something in this male was primal, dangerous.
Stepping away, the invader exploded into shards of bright colors which shattered like glass before amassing into the black feathers of an immense raven with a wedged tail and a bowie-knife-shaped beak.
Indigo shielded her eyes as the bird of war flew off. Before he was out of sight, he circled around, dipped low to the ground, and dive-bombed so close to her head she flattened nose down in the dirt. He was as big as her gryphon, almost as large as a Cessna.
She rolled, popping up a knee. “Asshole.” She shook her fist as he climbed high, arrowing into the clouds.
When he next appeared, he was an ebony dot in the sky, but he grew larger, folding his wings in, pointing his head straight down. He bulleted toward the ground, pulling up at the last moment in what must have been a marvel of strength.
She shouted, “And I don’t care if I never see you again.”
Hell.
She didn’t even believe herself.
Rising, she dusted off, petting the re-conjured Oskar who nudged her shoulder with his massive head. “Did that raven just laugh at me?” she asked.
The gryphon bounced his neck up and down.
“I thought so. Damn him.”
She eyed the sky until the raven disappeared, reminding herself she had no time for sexy, puzzling males. She was needed in the fight.
Wait.
Something was strange about the shifter. Clothes. Indigo searched the ground for shredded pants, discarded boots. Nothing. How could he have morphed into a raven without destroying his clothing? Most of his breed took off their duds, leaving them to be picked up later, or they ripped the hell out of them when they changed form.
Pushing the mystery to the far recesses of her mind, Indigo shed her skirt and top. She stroked fingers across the lips where the stranger had kissed her. Immersing herself in the cool water, she washed away the trespasser’s addictive scent, waiting until she was ready to study the secrets of her river. How could a crazy witch hold so many lives and so much responsibility in the palm of her hand? After all, she was looney tunes. Everyone knew it. With all the responsibilities life had handed her, though, only an insane person could remain sane.
“Oskar, jump in. The water’s fine.” She wrapped her hands around her dark hair to squeeze out the moisture.
Tread with care, Indy. Water is a heavy burden. Blah. Blah. Blah.
She was the reader of the river, a powerful witch, not some lightweight female with the vapors. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she angled her head downstream where bygone events floated, an orderly, unchanging past. Then she squinted upstream, studying the turbulent waters of the possible futures, a chaotic tumble of what was to come.
Chapter Two
Roark flew off to stretch his wings after he had strafed the delectable witch. She was unexpected. Unplanned. A real glitch. Her scent stayed with him, fresh as the river, wild as the roses on its banks, and succulent as the sweet grass on its shores. The taste of her lips still tingled in his mouth. Willing or not, she would be his. At least once.
Damn.
She was five-feet-nine inches of annoying witch. But beautiful. Curves. Great breasts. Mouthy. Apparently, he liked those qualities in a female. He should have fucked and forgotten her. Somehow, though, she didn’t strike him as the wham, bam, don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-on-your-way-out kind of gal.
What he should never have done was show off for the witch. But he had. Like a schoolboy with a crush, he’d flexed his muscle, demonstrated his power, caught a spell, and dissolved her conjured pet. Stupid. He was thinking with his cock. He had been ever since he sensed her gaze on him. Once she stepped into view, the damn appendage grew achingly hard. Too much was riding on his cool, calculating mind. A mind which had served him well. As sports fans say, he needed his “head in the game.”
The wind ruffled his feathers, cooling the flesh heated by a witch he couldn’t erase from his mind. He’d fly until he was exhausted. Until he forgot the kiss which made him jerk away on contact. Maybe then he’d forget the thick hair which teased her ass, the pale skin, long legs, plump lips, flirtatious but angry eyes of liquid mercury tinged with violet, firm breasts which cradled a large amethyst necklace, and the tempting juncture between her thighs.
He was a saint not to have screwed her right there on the banks of the river. She would have been unable to stop him. He’d heard the rapid pump of her heart, the thrumming of her hot blood. But he had no time for hay-rolling. He was a male with responsibilities, duties.
To erase the vision of the seductress, he rode air currents with eagles, diving downward to enjoy the rush of the ground. He turned to climb again, soaring, gliding, flipping onto his back. High. Higher. His raven repeated its actions while the scenery beneath him changed, while day moved into night, while rain dropped from a previously dry sky. Only then did he head toward the portal to the garrison.
When he landed in the center of the Arisen Dawn encampment hidden on the realm of Darque, his talons marked the dirt on a two-footed hop. His black feathers exploded. In their place walked the male, Roark, fully clothed, refreshed from a bath in the River Am but dreaming of an addictive witch who would accept him between her thighs.
Because the female would not be an easy conquest, the victory would be sweeter. Would he seek her out? Bad idea. Still, he wanted to kiss the worry lines on her forehead, wipe away the weariness in her eyes, lift the weight from her shoulders. She should be pampered, cared for, adored. He chuckled. She, of course, would bristle if he tried any of that shit.
