Free Prince of Flight by Mandy M. Roth

didn’t notice she wanted his attention.
    “Really, you’re going to act like you don’t hear me? Are you also the prince of pre-school?” she demanded, tapping her foot.
    He met her gaze.
    She licked her lip. “You love me?”
    “I do,” he practically whispered.
    “Why?”  
    He blinked. “You remind me of the sweet summers near the edges of the springs of the Tocalie Mountains. Your scent is like that of the mavabian flowers that dot the outer regions. I see you and every day I fight the urge to draw you close, to hold you, to join with you and most of all, to know you will never leave me.”
    She said nothing for a long moment and he realized what he’d done. He’d confessed love-sick nonsense to her and more than likely overwhelmed her with his clear state of need.
    “Wow, that is not a line I’ve ever heard used before,” she said with a slow smile. “I don’t know anything about those mountains or that flower thing, but I have to say you won me over.”
    He nodded. “I was once known as a great romancer of women.”
    Her expression hardened. “Oh really?”
    Keonae gulped, realizing too late that he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Women raised in the human realm were quite confusing. A woman from his own realm would have been happy to hear he’d been sought after by many. Apparently, that did not translate over well to the human realm. “Did I say a great romancer of women? No. I lied.”
    “Uh-huh.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “So you’re really a prince of bird guys?”
    He hid his laugh. “Yes, of the hawks of the realm.”
    “Realm?”
    “You have much to learn of our kind, Lark,” he said, lifting his hand to her. He stared into her eyes, the attraction to her undeniable. She came to him willingly and he drew her in close, inhaling her scent, committing it to memory. Unable to hold back any longer, Keonae captured her lips with his, his tongue instantly finding hers. His scarred cheek pulled tight, but he didn’t care. His only thoughts on her.

Chapter Eight

    Lark ran her hands over any part of him she could reach. His scars felt silky smooth beneath her fingertips and she focused on them, knowing he needed a clear understanding that they didn’t bother her. Far from it. The man was cut from the cloth of gods. The scars added to him, making him even sexier. She raked her nails over his back lightly as their kiss heated, the level of it growing to the point she moaned into his mouth.
    His hands found her bra-covered breasts and he backed her up until she bumped a table and could go no more. He leaned and she eased onto the tabletop, thankful it was sturdy. Keonae continued to kiss her as he fondled her breasts through her bra. Wanting more, Lark grabbed for the tops of his jeans and opened them. She had only just skimmed her hand down the front of his pants when the door to the bar burst open, causing their kiss to end quickly.
    “Keonae, help!”
    It was Lazar and Rossi. They had another man with them who looked almost identical to Keonae, minus the scars. They held the man between them, their arms under his, aiding him in walking slowly. The man was covered in deep, bloody gashes. One hand was pressed to his side where it looked as though someone had attempted to disembowel him.
    Sachin burst through the door behind them, a sword in hand as he yanked the door shut, locked it and he grabbed the handle with one hand. “Vultures.”
    The word caused fear to race up Lark’s spine. They’d found her again.
      Keonae gasped and struggled to button his jeans, stepping back from Lark, his attention on the newcomer. “Aeson? Brother?”
    Panicking was out of the question and far past the point of helping, not that it ever did. She’d been tracked and found too many times by the vultures to get worked up now. No, now was time for clear thinking and a plan.
    Help the injured.
    Lark slid off the table quickly and grabbed for her shirt. She pulled it on and then ran behind