Free The Weight of a Wing (The Stolen Wings Book 1) by Ioana Visan Page B

and pressed the
healing stone to her wrist.
    Nothing happened. The stone refused to react as if she were
a mere human. It couldn’t tell the difference between her and an inanimate
object. Alise held back a sigh. Ever since she had crossed over, she had known
this time would come, the moment when she would run out of magic, and it pained
her to acknowledge it. Once it did happen, it meant her life was over. She
couldn’t be a Fairy without magic, and she couldn’t store the magic without her
wings.
    “It’s not working,” she said quietly.
    “What?” Rafe spun towards her, and his eyes locked onto her
bloody hands. “Oh…”
    He stepped closer and took the healing stone from her. When
he ran it over her wrist, the familiar warmth and vibrations signaled the stone
was doing its job. Only days ago, she had been able to do such things by
herself without the aid of a stone. Now she could only watch as the bleeding
stopped, the flesh healing from within, and the skin was pulled tightly
together, forming scars that quickly disappeared.
    She felt funny in the close proximity of the Guardian. His
touch on her skin allowed her to steal a spark of magic from him. If he knew,
he didn’t show any sign that he was bothered by it. Faded golden vines glided
over her skin, wrapping around her wrist, erasing any trace left by foreign
magic and evil spells. It happened so fast that if you blinked, you missed it,
but Rafe hadn’t. He stared at her wrist, pondering, then he brushed his thumb
over the brand new skin covering the spot. With all his fighting and weapon
handling, his hands somehow managed to remain as smooth as hers.
    Alise fought against the tingle that spread over her skin.
Her body craved that touch with a ferocity that would only get stronger in
time, but whether it needed the touch or the magic that seeped from it, she
couldn’t tell. She couldn’t think straight. When those quicksilver eyes bore
into hers, she glanced away, feeling weak and inadequate. This was a different
world with different rules, and even they, as people, were different. It didn’t
change the fact that she was his prisoner.
    As if reading into her discomfort and seeing right through
it, Rafe casually released her and slipped the stone into his pocket. He moved
away while she kept her eyes on the window, looking outside. It wasn’t a fake
screen or a shot of the city, but a real view of the garden in the back of the
house.
    Under the moonlight, a dark silhouette staggered on the
concrete path—Mark. He stopped near a hibiscus bush and started to mechanically
pluck flowers off it. The Guardians had not been gentle when they erased the
memories of the night from his mind. It had left him confused and a little
lost, but with the dogs roaming around him, calm and alert, he was as safe as
he could be.
    The pain of the tortured hibiscus resonated through her, and
she turned away from the sore sight, murmuring, “I should go clean up a
little…” Her wrist felt fine, but the blood had trickled down her arm and
dripped on her shirt and pants, drying in sticky patches. She needed a shower
and a new set of clothes.
    When she started to leave, Rafe gently pressed his hand on
the back of her shirt. It was the second time he had done that. Couldn’t he
just ask if he wanted something? She stood frozen on the spot, waiting. He
leaned over her shoulder, one hand turning her to face him and tilting her chin
up, and his mouth landed hard on hers, crushing her small gasp of surprise.
    Confronted with the skilled assault of his mouth, she had no
other choice but to surrender. Her mouth opened, welcoming his invasion,
vaguely aware of his arm circling her waist, supporting her, and the hand
fisted in her hair that kept her neck at a perfect angle for the kiss. And what
a kiss it was. Colors danced behind her eyelids, and the entire structure of
her world slipped and shifted a little. Magic flew freely between them, making
her body sing with