The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,33

with an energy that crackled, palpable and overwhelming.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she swept into the halo of firelight, wings flapping embers and ash into the air, sending a wave of glittering sparks into the darkness. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. But, well, you know. Anyway, I brought some more food and water, a little more wood, though you should be out of here relatively soon, and… Wow.” She stopped short when her eyes landed on his face, jaw falling open. It promptly closed as a smile tugged at her lips, one she visibly struggled to control. “You look…clean.”

An amused grin widened his cheeks. “It’s amazing what a difference water and a fresh rag can make.”

“I’ll say." She coughed, clearing her throat, but her gaze lingered on his features, slowly taking them in.

Why does she look so excited? So eager?

There was something calculating, maybe even mischievous, sparkling in those bright eyes he’d been unable to remove from his thoughts.

Rafe didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Food?” she asked.

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

“Water?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Should I spruce up the fire?”

“I’m not cold.”

“What about—”

“Please,” Rafe interjected, quickly losing patience—which was easy, since he rarely had any. “Could we please just get on with the healing?”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as though considering his request. The tops of her white wings perked, lifting and spreading as her face struggled to remain neutral. “Yes, of course. Let’s get on with the healing. If you could just take off your shirt and turn around?”

Rafe frowned. “Why do I have to take off my shirt?” The fire was warm, but he could still feel the bite of cool air through his layers and layers of clothes. “You did just fine on the bridge.”

“On the bridge,” she countered forcefully, clearly unused to being questioned, “you were near death and I didn’t have time. But I’ll work faster and better if I can see what I’m doing.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut in quickly, “You do want to fly again, don’t you?”

Rafe shut his mouth.

The girl sat waiting, a brow pointedly arched—the image of someone who usually got her way. Unfortunately for Rafe, he was in no position to argue. He was at her mercy. With a sigh, he began undoing the knots on the furs she’d given him, before moving on to the buttons on his jacket, then the clips at his sleeves. Piece by piece, his clothing was discarded, while she watched silently, eyes following his fingers, making him feel on display. The air seemed to thicken, as though the fire had flared without them noticing. His fingers turned cumbersome as his pulse beat just a little faster, and they slipped once or twice on the slick metal fasteners. As he eased his shirt around his wings, the cool air over his skin almost felt welcome, eliciting a sharp intake of breath—not just from him. A small gasp reached his ear, making him turn back to the girl. Her eyes were on his abdomen, drifting lower, and lower.

He cleared his throat.

She looked up.

“Should we…?” He trailed off, shoulders writhing despite the pain the small movement brought to his wing joints.

The girl jumped like a spring suddenly unleashed. “Yes, let’s. Why don’t you, or I could, or we…” She paced back and forth for a moment, then stopped. “Can you just turn a little bit, so your back is to the light, and I’ll sit right here, and, yes, this is perfect.”

He moved while she spoke, listening to her clothes and feathers rustling as she got behind him. Rafe watched the flames flicker against the stone wall, following the orange glow as it danced across hard edges, making them appear soft. Beyond that halo, the darkness swallowed any other hint of light. The world outside their circle was nothing more than shadow, as though this little pocket of reality existed apart from everything else.

He started when her fingers touched his skin, the barest skim.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are my hands too cold?” she asked, her voice a little higher and sharper than before.

“Uh, no.” Rafe's heartbeat became thunderous, so loud he was sure she could hear it too, though she said nothing.

Neither did he, as she pressed her palms again his shoulder blades once more. They were warm and soft, making his skin prickle. His spine straightened. Every nerve in his body turned alert as her fingers shifted, silk brushing against him as she ran them