Free Guilty as Sin by Denise Rossetti Page A

assessments of
    character. There was something very…solid about Dax, something deep and steady.
    Intelligent. Loyal. Not a quick thinker, but to dismiss him as a fool would be downright
    dangerous. His physical reflexes had been fast enough.
    He ‟ d felt the strange beat of Dax ‟ s heart, off-kilter and very fast. The Aetherii ‟ s thick
    cock had stirred against his own, though that was a common enough reaction to
    danger. Michael had been half-hard too. They were a handsome race, the Aetherii. Dax
    might be huge, but his body was in perfect, if massive, proportion. The hair, the bronze
    feathers, those green-gold eyes—only his rough-hewn features saved him from beauty.
    Pausing outside the discreet entrance to the bath house, he rubbed his chin with
    grimy fingers. He hadn ‟ t had a man since Tannio, or not for anything more than a
    fumble in an alley, quick and satisfyingly dirty. Could he do it?
    He pushed the door open wide and strode in, his head high. Of course he could. By
    the seven icy hells, he could do whatever he set his mind to, it was how he survived.
    Though… He snorted with amusement. No way in hell would he bottom. Obligingly,
    his imagination supplied a picture of Dax stretched over a bright mound of
    multicolored pillows, wings and legs both spread. He was utterly relaxed, half asleep or
    sated, his head pillowed on his folded arms, sunset hair mingling with bronze feathers.
    The lamplight licked the curves of a mouthwatering ass with gold.
    Well, shit.
    Michael ‟ s brows rose as he stared at the startling crimson and gilt wallpaper in
    Bubba ‟ s hallway, unseeing. The image was…uh, it was remarkably clear. Dax ‟ s skin
    was the color of pale honey, the path of his spine marked by the strong bumps of his
    vertebrae, paralleled by deep indentations of muscle. And then the feathers started, his
    enormous wingspan seeming to take up all the space in Michael ‟ s attic chamber. His
    tail, clad in smooth bronze feathers, flicked lazily from side to side. It ended in a
    luxuriant tuft, each plume at least six inches long.
    Michael blinked.
    A tail. In the way. A tail for the gods ‟ sakes .
    “Bath in a private chamber,” he growled, snagging a passing attendant by the
    elbow, ignoring the woman ‟ s huff of disgust.
    43

    Five minutes later, he sucked in a grateful breath and let himself sink beneath hot
    perfumed water. Surfacing with a gasp and a flurry, his ringing laugh echoed off the
    walls, the sheer merriment of the sound incongruous in the decadent atmosphere. The
    perfect pick-me-up for a jaded master thief, and all he had to do was reach out and seize
    it.
    Unbidden, Lise strolled into the vision, naked save for a twist of gauze about her
    hips, her high breasts crowned with pink nipples like summerberries. As she kneeled to
    press a kiss to Dax ‟ s hair, she lifted a glittering gaze to Michael ‟ s.
    A salute and a challenge in one, as if he heard the distant clash of blades.
    Michael hardened so fast he saw spots.
    Gods yes!
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Chapter Six
    Aetherii—Defense and Warfare—Pinion warriors:
    All adult Aetherii, male and female, spend at least one year at the Pinion Academy learning
    the arts of formation flying and aerial combat. The only exceptions made are for those with
    disabilities. The trainees graduate as Sixth Pinion warriors, capable of contributing to the
    defense of the Eyrie. Those with the talent may progress through six levels of increasing
    difficulty. For example, to qualify as a Third Pinion warrior, the trainee must demonstrate
    above-average athleticism, strength and coordination, together with a toughness of spirit beyond
    that of the general population. Second Pinion warriors are considered lethal while First Pinion
    warriors are the supreme raptors of the Aetherii race, extraordinarily swift and deadly. This
    sublime combination of skill and ruthlessness is so rare that only a handful of First Pinions exist
    in each generation.
    Excerpt from the