Magpie (36 page)

Everet was there, and he looked after him, and made sure that he obeyed the right rules. No other species had managed to get Kane to obey one rule, let alone dozens of the damn things. It came so naturally to the raven. And—

Kane closed his eyes.

“I’ve never promised that anything I asked you to do would be easy,” Everet said.

Kane pointedly ignored him. He hadn’t told him it would be like crawling over broken glass on his hands and knees either.

“But it feels good when you know you’ve done the right thing, doesn’t it?”

“To know that you’ll be pleased with me,” Kane corrected, unable to keep the words back. Doing the right thing be damned. It felt good to know that Everet was pleased with him—felt better than almost anything in the world, apart, perhaps, from being screwed by Everet over a table covered in silver.

“That’s a start,” Everet said.

Kane swallowed. His head was so full of confusion he wanted to reach inside his brain and pull out the muddle of thoughts. That would be the only way he’d ever get them all unraveled.

He looked down as he scuffed his toe against the bare concrete floor. “You said you’re proud of me.” He offered no opinion on such a declaration.

“Yes. I am.” He leaned forward. “That said, at some point, we’re
really
going to have to work on your inclination to run away when you get scared. I can’t run around the nest like a madman again. I don’t think my heart would take it.”

Kane said nothing. Working on things in the future, meant having a future together, didn’t it?

“It must have been a shock seeing your sister there,” Everet added.

Kane shrugged. He shuffled his feet again. Somehow, he ended up taking a step closer to Everet in the process.

“I’m guessing you two don’t get on?”

“No.”

Everet said nothing. The silence demanded to be filled.

Kane had no interest in talking about how she’d treated him when he was a fledgling. “I used to be just like her,” he said, instead.

“Not anymore,” Everet said. He sat so still, he might have been a statue.

Kane helplessly took another pace toward him. “You really don’t want to get rid of me? You don’t mind that I’m a magpie?”

“I’ve got far more respect for a man who battles his demons than one who gives in to them, or even one who didn’t have any to begin with.”

Another foot of distance disappeared from between them. If Everet could ignore his failings, then it hardly seemed right for Kane to keep harping on about them. He now stood right next to the cot. His knees were just about to bend and sit him down next to his lover and—

“When was the last time you stretched your wings?”

Kane took several very quick steps back. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he demanded. Any inclination to get up close and personal with the raven vanished in an instant.

“I want to see the other side of you.”

“No.”

Everet remained silent.

It would have been far easier to argue with the man if he’d cooperate. Silence was hard to disagree with. Kane glared down at Everet until inspiration struck.

“I haven’t seen your avian side either.” Ha! He grinned with glee, knowing he’d won.

“Fair point,” Everet said. “We’ll both shift together. Maybe that will convince you I have no objection to your species once and for all.”

All Kane’s triumph drained away. Everet had adopted that stubborn tone of voice now—the one that meant nothing anyone could do, or say, would change his mind.

Everet got to his feet. Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he began to undress. He obviously intended to put his plan into action without any delay.

Kane half turned away and obstinately refused to follow his lead. He made a brief attempt to look at the bars and not even watch the other man strip. It was no good, the prospect of seeing Everet’s naked body was far too much temptation for him.

Kane soon stared straight at the raven, taking in every gorgeous line of muscle that came into view. Within moments he was as turned on as he had ever been in his life.

Everet smiled, his movements full of confidence as he folded the last item of clothing and placed it neatly on top of the little pile he’d created on the floor at his feet. He moved forward to stand directly in front of Kane. Dipping his head, he brushed their lips together.

“Just remember this, sweetheart. There’s far more than one way to get high. And there’s at least one way that I completely approve of.”

The kiss was so sweet, and Kane had been so sure he’d never feel their mouths meet again, and—

Everet stepped back. Without any warning, he extended his arms and pulled his knees up toward his chest as he leaped as high into the air. Shifting mid-jump, his human form vanished, to be replaced by a flash of feathers that quickly morphed into the sleek black wings of a raven.

Using the momentum from his leap to gain more height, he rapidly flapped his wings and overcame the last few tendrils of gravity. Within a few seconds, he rose up the narrow column of air that made up ninety percent of the cage’s volume.

No!

Kane didn’t think—he followed.

His body automatically began to shift—determined to shadow his master’s movements by whatever means necessary. In hindsight, it was obviously a mistake not to invite his brain in on the decision-making process at that point.

Unfortunately, Kane only realized that when his clothing fell around him, trapping his wings and covering his beak.

He struggled against what seemed to have become yards of thick fabric with a mind of its own. Kane cawed and pecked at it, but his head remained covered. Wings were no use at all. His claws only managed to scratch at the denim beneath him.

All at once, light appeared overhead. The fabric moved away entirely of its own volition.

No. As Kane peeked his head above the neckline of his T-shirt, he realized the edge of the fabric was held in a raven’s beak. Squirming out of the clinging material, Kane hopped onto a clear patch of floor and shook out his wings, encouraging his feathers to settle around him in a far more attractive way.

Through avian eyes Everet was…Kane let out a sound as close to a huff as a bird’s throat could produce. Everet looked just as he always had. Sleek black feathers replaced sleek black hair. He was still big and strong, his movements were still confident. He still had that look in his eye that hinted he kept perpetual watch over the whole world and was ready to pounce on the first man to break the rules.

And Kane loved him for that as much as for any of the other things that made Everet who he was.

Kane was reasonably sure he couldn’t blush in his avian form, but he wasn’t going to risk Everet seeing any hint of embarrassment in him. The raven would be bound to want to know what he felt, and why, and a million other things that were none of his business.

Stretching out his wings, Kane hopped up onto the edge of the cot. Taking no more than a moment to bunch his muscles and ready himself, Kane took flight. It would have been much easier out in the open, where he could have taken a long straight course and got his wings properly under his control.

It was strange being back in this form after so many years spent as a human. His pulse was so fast, his limbs so different. Controlling wings wasn’t easy when part of him clung to the belief they were still arms.

Frantic flapping wasn’t the most elegant way to take to the air, but Kane determinedly did whatever it took to gain height—to get high. As loath as Kane was to admit it, something about flying gave him the same rush of adrenaline and pleasure that the quicksilver had provided. Although, he still wasn’t sure
anything
could beat that table in the silver room.

He rose higher as he sensed Everet join him on the wing.

Cleaning might have made him improve a few human muscle groups. It had done nothing to make his wings stronger. A perch called to Kane.

He landed, wrapping his claws around the welcome resting point and clinging to it with all the fear of a shifter who wasn’t sure big human feet could balance on such a narrow bit of wood. He looked up just in time to see Everet catch up. The other man didn’t hesitate to join him on the thick wooden pole extending a yard out from the side of the cage.

Kane turned his head and glared at Everet, as if he wasn’t completely thrilled to be perched next to his master. Everet dipped his head and let the top of it rub against the side of Kane’s neck.

Kane hadn’t been in his avian form for years—not since he took up residence in the human world and discovered quicksilver made shifting impossible. Even when he had flown, it was only with other magpies.

Kane looked down. He never remembered receiving such a gentle, flirtatious touch from anyone while in his avian form. Unsure how he was expected to respond, not wanting to let his master down, Kane hesitatingly copied the gesture.

Everet made a noise that sounded approving. That was good enough for Kane. He’d have grinned, if his beak had been willing to cooperate.

Several other perches were set around the edges of his cage.

Kane hopped off his current resting place and swooped down to a lower one. Everet followed. Kane rubbed the top of his head against the other man’s feathers, before quickly leaving that perch for another—this time higher up on the bars.

Everet followed. No, Kane knew that was wrong.

Everet wasn’t the type to follow. If he was on a man’s heels, it was because he chased him.

Predator and prey. Dominant and submissive. Cop and criminal.

Raven and magpie.

Maybe one really would be lost without the other…

As he dipped and weaved, flapped and swerved around the cage, Kane’s soul sang out in wonder. Why had he never realized before just how bloody wonderful flying could feel? Even in this stupid cage, it was pure ecstasy.

It would be even better out there in the real world, where he’d be able to see all the way to the horizon and nothing could stop him claiming the whole sky as his own.

Kane paused on a perch for a moment, sudden fear making him less than inclined to spread his wings again.

A flutter of feathers behind him made him look over his shoulder. The whole time he’d been on the wing, Everet had never been more than half a yard behind him.

The sky would never belong to Kane alone. Everet would never let him leave the nest and fly all on his own. The world might stretch all the way to the horizon line, but Kane knew that Everet would only let him loose out there once he’d made him recite all the rules and limitations he placed on him a million and one times.

Everet hopped along the perch until he was close enough to dip his head and straighten a few of Kane’s wing feathers that had slid askew by his awkward landing.

Nothing could frighten Kane while another avian cared about him that much. He took flight again. He had no idea how many times they circled the cage, their journeys short but quick as they dashed from one perch to another, spreading their wings and resting by turn.

Each time he took to the wing, more and more adrenaline and endorphins rushed through Kane’s avian form, until he suddenly reached a point where his magpie form was too small to hold it all in.

His decent was rapid. The air rushed past as he sped toward the base of the cage, racing against his own desires. He was aware of Everet swooping down after him, but in the raven’s case, it was probably by choice rather than necessity.