Wyvern's Angel by Deborah Cooke

Author:Deborah Cooke [Cooke, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781988479408
Goodreads: 36950168
Publisher: Deborah A. Cooke
Published: 2018-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

Four

The Seed.

The scent discarded Percipia’s inhibitions and obliterated her doubts.

The longer she smelled the Seed, the more it drove her crazy. She had to claim it and do so as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Bond seemed to share her urgency. They kissed all the way up the stairs even though Percipia stumbled more than once. If she hadn’t known the way, she might have fallen. She had her eyes closed and her arms around Bond’s neck, her mouth locked on his. Or was his mouth locked on hers? Either way, she was consumed with the feel of him and the taste of him. She wanted her hands on him, his skin against hers, and didn’t care about anything else.

Her concerns about his scars and what they might imply about his true nature were incinerated in the heat of the need fed by the Seed. Her questions about who was following him and why, as well as what he might have done that meant someone wanted him dead, were submerged beneath the wave of her desire.

They passed the upper floor of the house, where Percipia knew Sansor and his father lived. The door to one bedroom was closed and she recalled that his father was sleeping. She felt a twinge of guilt to be behaving so wantonly in the home where she had always been welcomed, then knew that Sansor’s father would understand the compulsion that drove her. The sight of that closed door, though, reminded her that there was more than Bond’s touch in the world.

When she’d claimed the Seed, there wouldn’t even be that. This was a fleeting madness, one that should be made as brief as possible—even though it was wonderful. How sweet it would have been to be able to savor a courtship in the glow of the Seed’s scent, to make the experience last so that all the pleasure was wrung from it.

But that was the stuff of fairy tales and matches meant to endure, of HeartKeepers winning their destined mates. There was nothing romantic about her match with Bond.

He was being hunted. Would they even survive long enough for her to succeed? Again, she felt that conflict between the demand of her nature and the social expectation of being a guest.

On some level, Percipia recognized the peril of her situation. In the aura of the Seed, she was unconcerned with her own safety, her senses attuned to Bond and greedy for every impression she could claim of him.

This had to be resolved.

Once she had the Seed, then Bond could leave, his attackers would follow, and Percipia could retreat to the palace to bear their child in safety and tranquility.

They reached the attic and Bond kicked the door shut behind them, without breaking his kiss. It was a simply furnished space, with dark wooden floors polished to a gleam and sloped white ceilings on four sides. A large window faced the street in front of the shop, though there was only silence from the sleeping city. The flat roof was a massive skylight, offering a view of the star-studded night sky.

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