Shadowvale 2 by Kristen Painter

Author:Kristen Painter [Painter, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“Con, Con, Con—”

At the sound of Andi repeating his name with such urgency, Constantin looked up, a small frisson of panic running through him. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I need you to look at something for me.”

“Okay, sure. What is it?”

“Not here. In your office.”

“Let’s go, then.” He led the way. Fletcher would be in shortly, but the man didn’t need Constantin’s guidance to take over the shop floor.

Once in his office, Constantin shut the door. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My wings. I need to know if they look like they were removed cleanly with magic, or if they were physically cut off.”

“Wouldn’t you feel that?”

She shrugged impatiently. “I don’t know. Being trapped in that book was like being stuck in a nightmare. I was more worried about surviving than thinking about my wings. I couldn’t use them in there anyway.”

She dropped her shopping bags, then shucked her jacket and turned her back to Con. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it up, revealing her bare back.

And a black lace bra.

For a brief moment, Constantin’s breath caught in his throat.

“Can you tell anything?” she asked.

He could tell that she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. “I don’t know where to look.”

“Where my shoulder blades are, a few inches out from my spine. My hair might be in the way.”

He brushed her hair aside, his fingers coasting over the warm silk of her skin. He’d forgotten how tantalizing the feel of a woman could be. “I see two small slanted lines. But they look more like birthmarks than any kind of wound.”

“Magic, then.” She exhaled and slumped forward, rounding her back a little. “Good. Can you touch them and make sure? They should be smooth. If they’re bumpy, it could be scar tissue.”

“I can do that.” His hand paused a half inch above the marks. He’d touched her when he’d moved her hair, but this was intentional. His fingers traced over the marks.

Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she shuddered.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I know my skin is cold. One of the downfalls of my kind.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s…” Her voice hitched oddly. “It’s been nearly a year since anyone touched me so intimately.”

He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “I understand.” It had been longer for him. A good deal longer. He focused on what she’d asked him to do. “The marks are flat. No bumps. Not scar tissue. Really, just like birthmarks.”

“Thank you. That’s what my skin should look like when my wings aren’t on me.” She pulled her shirt down and turned to face him. “That buys me more time.”

“More time for what?”

She was about to answer when a knock on his office door interrupted her.

“Mr. Thibodeaux? It’s Fletcher. Just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

Constantin frowned. “So you have.”

“I’ll be at the counter if you need me.

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