Free Of Wings and Wolves by SM Reine Page B

healed enough to follow them, but to a nine year old, it felt like months. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the bear’s unseeing gaze as the healing fever wracked her body.
    She had never experienced anything like the pain of falling under a bear’s claws, yet she still felt sadness at seeing it dead. A force of nature had been destroyed. Gran had proved herself the real apex predator.
    Once Uncle Scott returned with a spare sweater, Summer changed back, dressed, and followed him to the cottage.
    Gran had already driven Abram home. She didn’t look angry when she emerged from his room a couple of hours later. “He’s okay,” she said, sitting next to Summer on the couch. “And stop looking like you swallowed a rotten egg, because you’re not in trouble. I reckon your experience was lesson enough.”
    But that wasn’t why Summer had been struggling to hold back tears. She leaned her head on Gran’s shoulder. “Are you sorry that you killed the bear?”
    “No,” Gran said, stroking a hand over her curls. “But I’m sorry that you put me in a place where I had to.” She still didn’t look mad, but Summer felt as though she had been slapped across the face.
    “We’re not normal, are we?” Summer asked, hot tears sliding down her cheeks.
    “No,” Gran said. “You’re special. Both you and your brother.” She then kissed Summer’s forehead. “Your life’s a gift, pumpkin. Show a little appreciation for it.”
    Summer had healed her wounds from fighting a bear in minutes, but when she woke up in the passenger’s seat of Nash’s sports car, she still hadn’t healed all of the scratches inflicted by the winged children. Nash’s jacket draped over her wasn’t doing much to protect the upholstery. Blood and fur was everywhere.
    He ignored her protests as he pulled her out of the car and carried her up the front steps to his house. Summer curled against his chest, head tucked under his chin and fingers gripping the collar of his damp shirt.
    Margaret met them at the door. “Another dress, please,” Nash said, and the maid disappeared to follow his instructions.
    “I can walk,” she said as he mounted the stairs.
    “And you would surely walk straight out my door. No, I don’t think so. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
    “But my brother—”
    Nash turned his blazing stare on her. “Your brother is fully capable of taking care of himself. The claws of a balam aren’t poisonous to humans. He’ll be fine. You, on the other hand…”
    Summer gave a shaky laugh. “You say that like I’m not human.” She felt his throat humming next to her ear and realized that he was laughing.
    It was pretty ridiculous to claim she was normal now that he had seen her shapeshift, but all of Gran’s warnings through the years resonated through her skull. You can’t ever tell anyone. You can’t ever show anyone. We have to be careful, babe, because we’re alone in this world.

    But Nash had wings. Wings . Gran had been wrong about one thing—they weren’t alone after all.
    He kicked open heavy double doors and carried Summer into a room she hadn’t seen before. There were more bookshelves, a four-poster bed with filmy curtains, and a fainting couch underneath the bay window overlooking the lake.
    Surprise rolled through her. Nash had taken her to his bedroom.
    His movements were surprisingly graceful as he set her on the end of the bed. She hugged his jacket tight around her. “Don’t move,” he said, stepping into the adjoining bathroom and returning with a wet washcloth.
    “I’m fine,” she said when he lifted her arm to wash the scratches.
    He scowled as he washed the blood away. “Can’t turn my back on you,” he muttered, turning to her other arm. Margaret entered with another dress, which only looked like a pile of white cloth in her hands. “Put it on the desk,” Nash said without looking up.
    “Can’t I just wear it now?” Summer asked, watching Margaret exit with longing