Free Out in Blue by Sarah Gilman Page B

certainly fell into the “seize the day” category.
    “I don’t want you to get hurt because I care about you.”
    She stroked the edge of his wing, as far as she could reach from his back outward. He responded with a shiver.
    “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “You let me touch your wings. You held me under your wing at Jac’s. Yet, you don’t want to kiss me.”
    “You’re right, you don’t understand.” Wren leaned back and pegged her with his deep green stare. “I want very much to kiss you, Gin.”
    The words, and the low masculine purr with which he said them, stole her breath for a moment.
    “Then why—”
    “Because if I kiss you once, I won’t be able to stop.” He paused and sighed. “I can’t get close to you. I want to. Very much. But I’d be damning you to an unspeakable hell if I acted on my desires, Gin.”
    “ What are you talking about?”
    He hesitated, then spoke very quietly. “Do you know what Lark did to my mother?”
    “I…I know she died a violent death.”
    “Violent,” he ground out the word. “An understatement, but we’ll leave it there.”
    She bit her lip.
    Wren turned to the sprawling bookshelves and picked up a silver frame. He stared at it, but met her gaze when he spoke a moment later. “Lark promised me years ago that any woman in my life would meet an end worse than my mother’s.”
    His words made her ears ring like she’d been struck in the head. Speechless, she reclosed the distance between them and gazed down at the framed picture in his hands.
    The photo was a posed black and white, and must have been taken by someone with a gifted eye for light and shadow. But the artistic quality was not what brought the lump to her throat.
    The close up showed Raphael, Wren—he couldn’t have been a full month old—and his mother huddled together against the granite masonry of the house. The tall, feminine brunette leaned against Raphael’s side, his wing draped across her back, her smile that of a woman who had everything. She held Wren between them, his head on her collar bone, his downy wings unfolded and loosely draped over her arms. Raphael’s hand rested on Wren’s back.
    “This is gorgeous,” she whispered. “What was your mother’s name?”
    “Kora Amsel.” He set the photo aside and took her shoulders in his hands. “I won’t put you in Lark’s crosshairs. What he did to my family…”
    She shut her eyes. “Wren… I understand what you’re telling me. I won’t be stupid and make light of it. But Lark is not in this room.” She opened her eyes and stared into Wren’s wary gaze. “Looks to me like there is no one in this room but us.”
    “Like I said, if I kiss you, I won’t be able to do it just once—”
    She lifted herself to her toes and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t turn away from her this time, though a moment passed before he leaned into her.
    The chemistry, the conversation, none of it prepared her for the intensity Wren gave her as he stroked her lips with his and deepened the kiss. The fresh-air scent of him surrounded her as he reached his wings forward, enclosing her in a curtain of feathers. He ran his hands slowly down her back and she leaned deeper into the embrace. But all too soon, he lifted his hands to her face and held her still as he leaned away.
    “Oh, Gin…if only…” He shut his eyes, folded his wings, and turned away.
    “Wren—”
    “You didn’t get your shower,” he said, his voice quiet. “Please go ahead, make yourself at home. I’m going to go see if Vin has arrived.”
    He crossed the room to the door and paused. “Set the alarm and don’t leave the house or let anyone in until I get back. No one, not even a Guardian, okay? I’ll make this quick, and I’ll bring back food.”
    After he took flight from the deck, she slumped into a chair. The warmth of his hands lingered and sunk below the surface of her skin. She ran a finger over her bottom lip, waiting for her heart rate to