24. The Songbird

Journeying from the warehouse to the mountain feels like forever. Overwhelming silence settles around us. We are victorious, Emerson is defeated and dead, but this isn’t a celebration. Our leader is gone. Our brother, Naritaka, who had embedded himself in Emerson’s coven, is missing, presumed dead. We got our payback, but the mood is somber.

Oz still hasn’t let go of us.

We don’t want him to.

He nuzzles his face in our hair, pressing gentle kisses to our skin at every opportunity. We are precious to him. Hands stroke our back in comfort, hugging us to his firm chest. Present with him, but also far away, we confront one another.

Other Wren is a rugged, wild, and pure vampire. She possesses the strength, the speed, and the willingness to exist in this life that I don’t have.

I am cautious, clinging to the remnants of my human life.

None of it is fair.

Like all the other vampires, we should have merged during the transformation process. Instead, our memory loss caused us to be separate, and fear kept us that way. I want to accept her, join our minds, become one, and finally embrace my path. I just don’t know how…

Inside my head are two separate entities, staring at each other, vying for power.

No.

No?

Not power.

What then?

Peace. Unity. Completion. We are stronger together and weaker apart. You should not fear me…

Peace, unity, and completion? She is untamed, ruthless, and capable of such destruction when not checked.

So keep me in line.

She sounds demanding in my head.

I can’t control myself because I’m missing your essence. I need you to keep me grounded, and you need me to fully live. You keep pushing me away, and it’s killing us.

She’s right. I am pushing her away and don’t want to face the darkest parts of what I”ve become. I pretend it is all eternal life, sunshine, and love. There is just blood, chaos, and…

There is still love.

Our eyes focus on Oz, clutching us like we would float away without his touch. Our anchor, our lifeline. We both love him deeply. I can feel the truth of it, of her. I feel the longing to become one with me and finally be whole.

Completion.

In my mind’s eye, I see her. It is my face but sharper, etched with a cruelty that had once scared me. That cruelty isn’t for me, my coven, or humans… it fuels the ferocity with which I will protect what is mine. It is white hot and indestructible. It is the absolute confidence of my strength.

And it is beautiful.

She is beautiful.

Her face swims closer to me, blurring at the edges as we grow closer. My mind grows fuzzy, and it feels like something is crawling inside me. Slowly the edges of the puzzle fit together and settle into one coherent picture of myself.

Peace.

Unity.

Completion.

Gently swaying in Oz’s arms as he carries me inside, I stir. I didn’t even realize that I had fallen asleep. My head rests against his shoulder as he silently maneuvers us into our room and bathroom. Sitting me down on the tub’s edge, he steadies me, making sure that I won’t keel over the second his arms leave me.

I sway but remain steady.

We both frown at the blood covering the entire front of my body.

My clothes look like they’ve soaked up about six different people’s blood. Thinking about it, that is probably a pretty close measurement.

Water spray sounds behind me as Oz twists the handle. He is so big, towering over me like a great protector. “Arms up,” his voice is soft, smooth and caring.

I obey and let him undress me. There is nothing sexual about his touch as he examines me—nothing resembling lust is in his eyes as he takes me in. The blood of our enemies, having soaked through my clothes, stains my skin. Oz guides me into the shower, removing his clothes and joining me.

Rough hands, calloused from centuries of working with them, glide over my skin. His touch sends electric pulses of sensation down my back. He helps the water rinse the dried blood from my skin, cleansing me of what happened. He scrubs my back, arms, shoulders, breasts, and stomach using my favorite soap. He kneels before me and gently washes my legs, his hands stopping just before the height of my thighs. How I want him to keep touching me.

Satisfied, he turns his attention to my hair. The water has rinsed out all the dried rust-colored flakes, so he lathers my hair and massages my scalp. He works his fingers through my hair, preventing any tangles from forming. It feels fucking incredible.

He isn’t nearly as filthy as I had been. The smell of gunpowder is more potent than anything else. Still, I run the soap over his form, allowing my fingers to delight in the sensation of his packed muscles and the veins roping in his arms. Tracing the hard outlines of his chest, his abs. I wash every part of him with as much tenderness as he’s shown me, and despite wanting to turn this into more, I focus solely on our bathing.

I love his hair.

Working shampoo through it is challenging with our height difference, but he helps. Caging me with his arms, and bracing against the shower wall, Oz bends his neck forward, providing the access I need. Once thoroughly rinsed, I wrap my arms loosely around his waist, enjoying the feeling of the scalding hot water pounding into us.

Lips lower to my ear, and he whispers, “Wren, are you okay, love?”

Stupid question.

Of course, I’m not okay.

I have been kidnapped, hurt, threatened, witness to the murder of our coven leader, tortured…

Despite all of that, I am home, and I am safe. I have the love of my life is at my side and my mind is whole for the first time in weeks. I am doing far better than I have any right to be.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, burying my face in his chest.

Turning off the water, Oz grabs me by my hand and helps me from the tub. He wraps me in towels and helps me dry my hair. I submit to him and let him take control. I let him take care of me like he wants.

I love the way he tends to my needs. Each action is filled with love and tenderness that show I am his and always will be. I stare into his eyes, thinking about how everyone who had played a role in this is dead, how our family came together and put an end to those who would harm us. I think about how I relied on the darkest parts of me to keep myself safe, and how it led to me finally accepting myself for who I am.

Can he tell?

Does he know?

Oz carries me back into our bedroom and lays me on the bedspread. Climbing beside me, I feel a stillness as he rests his head on my abdomen, fingers absentmindedly tracing where a gaping wound was just hours before. Feeding from Emerson restored me and made me physically whole again. I feel strong, but I am tired, so tired from everything.

Tangling my fingers in Oz’s chestnut hair, I relax as his hands search me. Like he is looking for injuries that aren’t on the surface anymore. Given the sort of people I was held captive by, I know what he wants to ask. He takes a deep breath, and I notice he doesn’t want to look at my face as he probes for the answer.

“Wren, did they hurt you, my love? Did anyone… violate you.” His muscles are tense. I move my hand to his neck, working the knots at the base.

“They threatened it and worse. I was drained, smacked around, and you saw what Emerson did with his knife. There was one…” I have to tell him about the guard. I’m sure that he can smell that someone placed their hands on me. My breasts, my center. That someone had kissed my lips, my neck… I should shudder at the memory of him pressing into me.

Why doesn’t it bother me?

The face of the cruel woman swims in my mind’s eye, and I know.

She took it.

She took it all.

An emotion I can’t name swells inside of me and I continue my story. “My guard, outside the cell… I lured him in with the promise of my body.”

Oz stiffens but says nothing.

“He took the bait. So he kissed me, touched me, and I slid my hand into his pants. I grabbed him and…” I can feel him holding his breath. “I ripped off his dick and fed it to him.”

Oz’s arms reach for me and pull me to him, rearranging our limbs so I can put my head on his shoulder as he wraps himself around me. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, love. He had it coming. And the way you made him pay? It sounds like just desserts to me.” He kisses the top of my head and holds me tightly.

“I’m glad you’re safe now.”

I gently kiss his neck, wanting to tell him about the ride home. About me. About what happened with “Other Wren.” The words are hard to find but not impossible to come by.

“In the car, on the way here… I was lost in myself for a while. Trying to reconcile everything that happened, everything I did, who I am, and who I want to be.” Biting my lip, I turn to look at Oz directly. “I did it. We finally merged, and I’m… I’m whole now.” My fingers trace the lines of his face, my thumb running across his lips. He places a gentle kiss as I do, rolling so I am pressed down into the bed, and he is on top of me.

“How do you feel now, little bird?” Piercing eyes bore into mine.

How do I feel?

“Fucking amazing.” Wonder fills my voice with the truth of my words. “It’s like I was half a person before, and now it all just… fits.”

Gently, Oz presses his lips to mine. But it is too tender, and I want more. Nipping at his lips, I hear a rumble grow in the back of his throat.

Careful, little bird.He uses the bond to place his thoughts directly into my mind.

No. I think back at him, biting him harder. He opens his mouth, allowing my searching tongue entrance. Massaging his with mine, I can feel excitement rush down to settle in my belly.

I want this.

I want him.

I want to erase what happened with something good and pure.

My fingers grip his hair tightly, tugging as I press my lips harder against his. He stirs exactly as I hoped he would. Strong hands follow the curves of my body until one reaches my neck. Gripping just beneath my jaw, Oz breaks the kiss and uses his thick thumb to force my chin upward, exposing my throat to him. His teeth graze against the side of my neck, and I sigh deeply.

Yes.

This is what I need.

He hesitates for a moment, a question burning through him so brightly I can feel it through our bond.

“Make me forget,” I whisper.

That is all of the encouragement I need to give my mate.

I can feel wetness pooling between my thighs as I spread them and allow Oz to settle himself there. A hand slides down my hip, over my thigh, and cups the back of my knee, forcing it to bend so he can prop it up. His kisses trail lower, over my collarbone, and between the valley of my breasts. My nipples harden, and I moan as Oz takes one into his mouth.

Teeth and tongue torture me, nipping bit of pain here, soothing warmth there. Kneading my other breast as he did so causes me to arch my back into him, seeking more, yearning for him. His hands settle at my waist and push me back against the bed, his strength putting me where he wants me. His lips forge a path down my ribs, over my stomach, and to the junction of my thighs where I want him most.

Hot, moist breath tickles my curls, a shiver zips up my backbone with anticipation of him. Oz taunts me with a soft kiss against my clit, using hardly any pressure, and then his knuckles drag against my opening. “Baby, you’re already so wet,” he croons, his voice low and husky. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” I hear him chuckling, pleased with how he makes my body react to being near him.

“Do you want me to kiss you here?” Brushing his fingers against me, I moan with wanting and nod.

“What was that, precious? I thought I heard you say something….” Oh God, he is torturing me.

“Yes.” I breathe.

“Yes, what?” He purposely avoids my entrance and clit, massaging just to the side. I feel myself pulse and twitch with desire.

“I want you to kiss me there.”

“Good girl,” is a whisper before the warmth of Oz’s broad tongue strokes the entirety of my slit. I throw my head back, my fingers tangle in his hair again, and I want to hold him to me as tightly as I can. One finger circles my clit as his tongue enters me, massaging and manipulating my folds. A gentle pinch above, and I buck my hips against his mouth.

Jesus, he knows exactly how to tear me apart.

With expert precision, he moves his mouth upward, focusing on the center of my pleasure. A thick finger enters me, giving me something to grip as his tongue swirls delightful patterns on my clit. Lips closing over it, he sucks me into his mouth. My hands press his face harder against me, and my hips began to move in earnest, chasing what I want.

“Oz,” I moan. “God, yes.”

Another finger joins the first, moving against me, hooking inside of me to reach the place that will send me over the edge. Teeth graze against me, and my body locks in place. I am lost to the wave of pleasure crashing over me, drowning me in Oz. He vibrates against me with the satisfaction of bringing me to my release. It sounds like I am the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

Removing his fingers from me, he laps at my opening with his tongue, taking my new rush of desire in his mouth. Gently he brushes his fingertips against my lips, coercing them open. Sliding them in my mouth, I taste myself and suckle my essence from his fingers. I feel empty, and I need him to fill me, to make me his again.

He crushes his lips to mine, and I moan into the kiss, my pleasure still lingering on his lips. My need grows desperate. “Oz,” I call as he abandons my mouth for my neck again. “God, fuck me.”

I felt his grin on the side of my neck. He brushes his lips to my ear and grasps my throat again. “Ah-ah,” he teases. “What does a good girl say?”

My patience for his game is practically non-existent.

“Now,” I demand, watching as his brows raise upward in surprise. That cocky smirk I both love and hate settles on his face.

“As my little bird commands,” he breathes, sliding his cock against my slickness. Oz places the head of his length at my entrance and presses forward smoothly until he is buried inside of me completely.

The sensation of my mate joining me in this way is undeniably the best thing I can ever hope to experience.

Oz slides himself back until just the tip remains inside me before pressing forward again with a forceful and unhindered thrust. My legs wrap around his waist automatically, arms clutching him to me and nails digging into his back harder with each thrust. I move against him, moaning at the sensation of being joined with him.

“Fuck, Wren,” Oz breaths as he considerably increases his pace, groaning into me as I tighten around him.

So close already.

His thrusts are deep and hard, pulling me apart from the inside out. I am soaring higher and higher until it feels like I will crash into the stars.

Crash, I do.

Breaking apart at the seams, I come completely undone. “Oz,” I breath in an almost silent cry. My muscles clamp down on his cock as he thrusts into me. I can’t think, breathe, or see anything other than his eyes. I pull him in to kiss me, our lips bruising with the force of our passion. As the waves of my orgasm calm, I realize Oz slows his pace and has not yet met me at the height of pleasure.

He pulls himself from me instead, forcing a whimper at the loss of him. He presses my hand to his face, then kisses the inside of my wrist, my palm, and my fingers. He places my hand against his chest and grabs me by the chin, forcing my eyes to focus on his. “Turn around, and hold on to the headboard,” he commands, and something stirs in the depths of me.

“Yes, sir.”

Quaking with excitement and expectation, I obey. Gripping the top of the metal headboard, it is firm, unyielding in my grasp. I can feel him behind me, placing himself at my entrance. This new angle lends itself to fantastic potential. I groan as he fills me. He has to know what he’s doing to me and how much I like it.

Oz doesn’t waste time letting me acclimate. He pounds into me with vigor and determination. Like he wants to crawl inside me as far as he can, and I beckon him with my cries of pleasure.

I don’t know how much longer I can last like this. I am a broken marionette, held only by my strings as my lover takes what he wants. As he gives me what I need. He clutches my hair and pulls my head back. It feels fucking incredible. Slamming into me with all the speed and force he can muster, my hands grip the metal frame for dear life. I feel his hands lace around my neck, squeezing and cutting off my air.

Good God.

My eyes roll back into my head, and I let out a feral cry to the world as I am overcome again. Sounds of twisting metal groaning under my grip are all but a whisper in the background. My orgasm seems to freeze time around me, and nothing exists outside of us. Oz is the only other person on the planet, and he is here, giving me all of him. I gladly take it.

Every last bit.