Read Wings of Fire for Free Online

shoulders, now over his neck. She was here.
    The terrible tension inside his chest, the frightful worry that she was dead, eased. For the first time in twenty-four hours he could breathe.
    “I’m here,” he said aloud. “I’m ready for you.”
    He put his mouth to the tangerine, suckled the juice, and groaned.
    ***
    Parisa’s heart ached, a low throb deep in her chest, a pain that had become so familiar it was now a comfort.
    She still lay on her side on her large four-poster bed, the window of her preternatural voyeurism open.
    She could see Antony now. Like a good director, she could move her window to any position she desired. Tonight, thirteen-plus hours ahead of him, she panned her vision so that she could face him, as though she were standing right in front of him.
    She drew a ragged breath as though her throat had shriveled. Yes, he was handsome—strong cheekbones and a sharp angled jaw—but to her he would always be beautiful. His hair was black, thick, straight, and long, almost to his waist now. He’d showered and his hair was damp, even dripping in spots. He took long, steaming showers after a night of battle. Many times she arrived early enough to watch him in the shower. He was lean and muscular, all warrior.
    Yes, so beautiful.
    She moved closer, until she was a few inches from his face. She watched his tongue nestle within the tangerine, making small sucking noises. She knew that he was imagining his tongue inside her body. He’d told her that as well. Desire was too small a word for what she felt for this man, this warrior. She would be the tangerine for him and he could devour her.
    Tears rolled down her cheeks as her need for him grew, her thighs trembling. She had to keep her voice quiet or the servants would descend on her.
    She leaned in and kissed the air an inch or two away from him. He groaned, as though feeling how close she was. She watched his hand glide lower, sliding down his chest. She pulled the window back to watch. His abs were rippling, taut, rolling hard mounds she wanted to touch, to lick, to savor. His forefinger touched the narrow erotic line of hair that led down. Lower. Lower.
    In her mind she spoke to him. Yes, touch yourself for me. I’m here. I want you to know pleasure. Antony, hear me.
    His groans thickened the air. With one hand he held the tangerine to his mouth, his tongue working feverishly. With his other hand he held himself in a firm grip, pumping now. His hips moved, jerking forward.
    She panted and the core of her spasmed. She rolled onto her stomach and slid her hand between her legs. She pushed, pulled, pressed. Her hips bucked off the mattress as she watched him. His groans were loud in her ears. She could tell he was close. He opened his mouth, and the groan turned to a shout as he came.
    She came with him, the core of her body rippling and tugging, streaking pleasure up through her tender flesh. She imagined him inside her and the sensation intensified. She withheld the gasps and moans that wanted to erupt for fear the servants would hear. Antony. Antony, sped along the telepathic highway.
    All movement on his bed ceased, as it always did just at this moment. “I hear you,” he said aloud to the room. “You said, Antony, Antony. Twice tonight. I feel you near me, Parisa. I know you’re here and I know you’re alive. Thank God.”
    Antony, she cried out with her mind. More tears slipped down her cheeks. She shifted back onto her side, still looking at him. I’m here, she sent. I’m here. If only her telepathy would improve. At least he’d heard his name twice. That was something. Not much, but something.
    “Parisa, I have a piece of information about you, but getting some usable results from the grid might take a few days. I found a rogue death vampire in northern Arizona, Mortal Earth, this morning. He knew Rith. He was connected with the underbelly of Mortal Earth rogue life and he knew of you. I searched his memories and discovered that you’re