Read Burning Skies for Free Online Page B
Authors: Caris Roane
wasn’t used to seeing the violence he and his brother warriors saw every night of their fucking lives. He felt her relax against him and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
She had a right to be upset. Luken was the largest of the Warriors of the Blood, wearing muscle like a breeding bull. If Luken could get hurt, then they all could. The symbolism sliced deep.
Jesus. An incendiary bomb on Second Earth.
And Luken’s wings were gone. In addition, there was a lingering smell of burned feathers in the air.
Thank the Creator he was still unconscious as Horace and his team worked over every part of his skin. He looked better but it would be a few days before he recovered. The real question surfaced—would his wings renew or would scar tissue form over the apertures and make it impossible for him to fly again?
Such accidents were known to happen, especially among the flight-performance artists who worked the spectacle circuits. Disability insurance for these entities, which made liberal use of extensive and exotic fireworks displays, was exorbitant, like medical malpractice insurance on Mortal Earth.
Thorne shuddered, and Havily looked up at him. “Are you okay, Warrior Thorne? This has to be hard on you as well.”
He nodded, but damn his throat was tight. Havily shifted slightly and slipped her arm around his waist. In the past few months, ever since Warrior Marcus had blasted through their warrior world for his three days of service, Havily had drawn closer to all the Warriors of the Blood. She’d always been a favorite, but the events surrounding Alison Wells’s ascension, in which Havily had served as the woman’s Liaison Officer, had brought the ascender closer to them all. Lately, she’d been performing a wonderful kindness for them. At dawn, at the end of the warriors’ shifts, she’d meet with them at the Cave, the warriors’ private rec room.
She brought hot Starbucks and a couple of dozen maple scones and buttermilk doughnuts, which got devoured within minutes. But it was her presence that eased them all, her earnest expressions, her desire to help, and the knowledge that for the past several months she had made some really useful changes at Endelle’s administrative headquarters. Her enthusiasm and her service helped all of them, dammit. And tonight she’d just saved Luken’s life.
Yeah, his eyes burned and then some.
“Will he be all right?” she asked. She had a lovely voice, light, melodic, except when she got particularly adamant on a point. Then the tone evened out to something approaching strident—a necessary effect since she worked every day within twenty yards of Endelle.
“Of course he’ll be all right,” Thorne said, wondering if she could gauge the lack of truth in his voice.
“What about his wings?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
She was silent for a moment. “I wish Endelle would get here. She has healing abilities. Maybe she can help. Are you sure she’s on her way?”
“She’s coming.” He’d contacted her through their shared telepathic link, interrupting her meditations. He knew it would take her a few minutes to shake off the effects of doing her split-self moves through nether-space. The truth was he couldn’t have kept her away. She played her tough-bitch role really well, but he knew her heart, he knew how much she loved her men.
The air shimmered. Thorne slid away from Havily as gently as he could while at the same time drawing his sword into his hand, but thank fuck it was only Endelle. Speak of the devil. She wore a purple gown, something like a Grecian robe, which he knew she wore when she did her darkening work.
“Holy shit,” Endelle cried, her loud voice drawing the attention of all five healers in her direction. “Why the fuck does this room smell like someone’s been lighting chickens on fire?”
Havily burst into tears and moved to the window.
Thorne just stared at
She had a right to be upset. Luken was the largest of the Warriors of the Blood, wearing muscle like a breeding bull. If Luken could get hurt, then they all could. The symbolism sliced deep.
Jesus. An incendiary bomb on Second Earth.
And Luken’s wings were gone. In addition, there was a lingering smell of burned feathers in the air.
Thank the Creator he was still unconscious as Horace and his team worked over every part of his skin. He looked better but it would be a few days before he recovered. The real question surfaced—would his wings renew or would scar tissue form over the apertures and make it impossible for him to fly again?
Such accidents were known to happen, especially among the flight-performance artists who worked the spectacle circuits. Disability insurance for these entities, which made liberal use of extensive and exotic fireworks displays, was exorbitant, like medical malpractice insurance on Mortal Earth.
Thorne shuddered, and Havily looked up at him. “Are you okay, Warrior Thorne? This has to be hard on you as well.”
He nodded, but damn his throat was tight. Havily shifted slightly and slipped her arm around his waist. In the past few months, ever since Warrior Marcus had blasted through their warrior world for his three days of service, Havily had drawn closer to all the Warriors of the Blood. She’d always been a favorite, but the events surrounding Alison Wells’s ascension, in which Havily had served as the woman’s Liaison Officer, had brought the ascender closer to them all. Lately, she’d been performing a wonderful kindness for them. At dawn, at the end of the warriors’ shifts, she’d meet with them at the Cave, the warriors’ private rec room.
She brought hot Starbucks and a couple of dozen maple scones and buttermilk doughnuts, which got devoured within minutes. But it was her presence that eased them all, her earnest expressions, her desire to help, and the knowledge that for the past several months she had made some really useful changes at Endelle’s administrative headquarters. Her enthusiasm and her service helped all of them, dammit. And tonight she’d just saved Luken’s life.
Yeah, his eyes burned and then some.
“Will he be all right?” she asked. She had a lovely voice, light, melodic, except when she got particularly adamant on a point. Then the tone evened out to something approaching strident—a necessary effect since she worked every day within twenty yards of Endelle.
“Of course he’ll be all right,” Thorne said, wondering if she could gauge the lack of truth in his voice.
“What about his wings?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
She was silent for a moment. “I wish Endelle would get here. She has healing abilities. Maybe she can help. Are you sure she’s on her way?”
“She’s coming.” He’d contacted her through their shared telepathic link, interrupting her meditations. He knew it would take her a few minutes to shake off the effects of doing her split-self moves through nether-space. The truth was he couldn’t have kept her away. She played her tough-bitch role really well, but he knew her heart, he knew how much she loved her men.
The air shimmered. Thorne slid away from Havily as gently as he could while at the same time drawing his sword into his hand, but thank fuck it was only Endelle. Speak of the devil. She wore a purple gown, something like a Grecian robe, which he knew she wore when she did her darkening work.
“Holy shit,” Endelle cried, her loud voice drawing the attention of all five healers in her direction. “Why the fuck does this room smell like someone’s been lighting chickens on fire?”
Havily burst into tears and moved to the window.
Thorne just stared at