The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,147

The king. And his mages. And the warehouse. And the dragon. Then magic, so much magic, and an agony that never seemed to end. "Where—" Gods alive, his throat was so dry. He needed water. It burned, but he forced the question out. "Where's the beast? Did it escape?"

"Oh, Rafe…"

The apology in her tone made him freeze. His back muscles spasmed as though fighting the awful truth, but he couldn’t ignore the familiar weight beside his shoulders—familiar, and yet not. He didn't need to see them to know they were different. They were too heavy. There were too many bones. They were unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

They were still wings.

Give me a dragon, the king had said. And I'll give you the sky.

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