Even carried loosely, Ashur’s wings command at least a six-foot radius behind him and my hand flexes at the thought of touching them again before I shake my head. Remembering my own suddenly, I reach behind my back, shivering as my fingers find a wing, the whisper of feathers against my fingertips contrasting with the sensation shooting through my body — like a shot of adrenaline straight to my clit, from just a touch. 

Shuddering, I let go, jumping at Ashur’s sudden laugh. “They will not always be so sensitive, Chosen. It’s partly because they are new to this world that the sensations are so… overwhelming.” 

“Cassandra,” I correct testily. He just said it. I watch him instead of checking out this amazing room as I start down the stairs into the living room. “That’s too bad. I’ll have to take advantage of the sensitivity while it lasts.” 

He scowls at that, raising his brow in what must be a regular expression for him. I grin in response as I sit in front of him on a plush ottoman of deep violet, flexing my wings experimentally. They arch behind me, and I slowly pull one forward, the muscles and tendons moving with the echo of memory, as if I’ve always had them… as if they’re a missing part of me that I’ve finally recovered. I blink when they come into view. Ashur was right. The long feathers of my primaries are flamboyant — the rose gold shimmers with a metallic sheen although they’re as soft (and sensitive, holy fuck) as the rest of my… feathers. I have feathers! Only my primaries have the metallic shine, though, abruptly transitioning to the “moody blue” color that makes up the rest of the huge expanse of my wing. They’re a dark periwinkle, and I inspect them closely, realizing most are tipped with gray at the very ends, lending to the storm-cloud color Ashur referenced before. I pull them both forward fully, marveling at their weight, each one big enough to drape over me like a heavy blanket — I’m going to sleep so great with these things. 

I glance up, but Ashur is waiting for me to complete my inspection — if not patiently, at least quietly. I relax them and smile when they swing backward before settling comfortably behind me. Turning my attention back to Ashur, who still hasn’t sat, I raise an eyebrow of my own as he watches me from his towering height. He’s slow about it, and I can feel his tension mount through our link as he starts to sit. Adopting an innocent expression, I smile when his eyes narrow before getting distracted by the play of muscle across his chest and abdomen as he finally settles across from me. 

A shiver runs through me when he leans forward to brace his elbows against his thighs, those midnight wings swinging forward until he’s shadowed by them. He’s intimidating. Moderately threatening, even. If I had underwear on, they would be soaked. As it is, I’m concerned about this beautiful dress. I know he can feel my arousal through our link. I watch as his wings arch higher, and his eyes start to… burn. There’s no other word as those dark wisps — his power, manifest physically — rise between us. His eyes are glowing, like embers in a flame. It’s erotically terrifying, a reaction that makes me want to lay back on this ottoman and offer myself to him, while at the same time it calls to something wild in me. 

I don’t want to lay back and take it… I want to launch myself onto him and take him. I stifle a moan, shifting on the ottoman. 

“Some ground rules, then,” he starts with a growl that prowls right over the best parts of me. 

I shimmy on the ottoman again with a breathless hum, “Yes. Ground rules.” My own words are husky, and I clear my throat, “First, I decide where and who I sleep with—” I stop with a squeak when he shoots to his feet with a growl, and actual fire lights up on the crest of his wings. Flames — across his wings — which apparently aren’t affected by the fire as they arch behind him. I guess we’re ignoring that for now, though. 

“No.” His voice rolls through the room like thunder, his power coiling, and I feel it building, dimming the overhead lights until he’s limned in shadow. It’s dark in here now… the wisps of power I noticed before are shadowing the room, and I jump when a tendril wraps around me. The touch of it is a sliding burn, prickling my skin like being in the sun too long. I watch with startled apprehension as the flames on his wings drip down to his primaries. 

Okay, that is amazing. I wonder if my Choosing broke something inside me, because I am panting at this point.