The Darkest Whisper

CHAPTER 22

The first woman Aeron had found for Paris, the warrior had previously slept with. Not that Paris had known it by looking at her. His body’s lack of response had given him away. So back to town she’d gone. Since receiving his demon, Paris had only once gotten hard for the same woman twice. And that was the female who had died and couldn’t be reborn. Because of me.

The second woman Aeron had found for his friend had been a no go, as well. Same reason. The third had been a tourist, new to town, and had thankfully never crossed paths with the warrior. Aeron had abducted her right out of her hotel room while she slept so that his tattooed face and inhuman wings wouldn’t frighten her. She’d woken up next to Paris and when she’d glimpsed his pretty face, she’d climbed on board for the ride of her life.

Today, Aeron was flying his friend into town. No more taking females back and forth. It was a waste of time. This way, Paris could choose whom he wanted and Aeron could quickly and efficiently procure her for him. The two could have their fun in Gilly’s apartment, the safest place Aeron knew of, since Torin had the entire building wired like a maximum security prison to keep Danika’s young friend safe. Aeron hadn’t liked it when she had moved out of the fortress—she was too fragile, too skittish—but the warriors freaked her out and time hadn’t calmed her. Aeron would take her to the coffee shop across the street, if she’d let him, and keep her company while they waited.

A perfect plan. Well, as perfect as he could work it.

If only Paris and the Harpies had gotten along. But Promiscuity had taken one look at the beautiful women and deemed them “too much effort.” Aeron supposed he knew the feeling. He himself hadn’t enjoyed a female in over a hundred years, and he wouldn’t enjoy one for a hundred more. If ever. As he’d told his sweet Legion, they were simply too weak, too easily destroyed, while he would most likely live forever.

He wasn’t sure he could survive having to watch another loved one die.

Speaking of loved ones, had Legion returned to hell? Was she in danger? She wasn’t happy unless she was with Aeron and he wasn’t complete unless she was perched on his shoulders.

The so-called angel hadn’t visited him in days. Hopefully, she was gone for good and Legion would return.

He leaned to the left, turning smoothly. Pinks and purples streaked the sky, the sun setting perfectly. Wind whipped across his scalp, his hair too short to ruffle. Paris’s, though, continually slapped his cheeks. The warrior was cradled against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, under his wings.

He remained low and in the shadows, out of view.

“I don’t want to do this,” Paris said flatly.

“Too bad. You need it.”

“What are you? My pimp now?”

“If I have to be. Look, you found a woman you could bed more than once. Surely you can find another. We just have to look for her.”

“Damn you! That’s like telling a man whose arm has been chopped off that you’ll sew someone else’s on him. It’s not going to be the same. It won’t be the right color, the right length. Nothing will be as perfect as the other.”

“Then I’ll petition Cronus for Sienna’s return. You said her soul is in the heavens, yes?”

“Yes,” was the grudging response. “He’ll say no. He said I had a choice, and if I didn’t pick her he would ensure she never returned to earth. He’s probably already killed her. Again.”

“I can sneak into the heavens. I can search for her.”

There was a long pause, as though Paris was considering his words. “You could be caught, imprisoned. Then my sacrifice would be in vain. Just…forget about Sienna.”

Problem was, Aeron couldn’t forget about her until Paris did. He was going to have to ponder this, decide how to proceed. All he knew was that he wanted his friend back. The laughing, carefree warrior who had a smile for everyone.

“City’s crowded tonight,” he observed, hoping to bring them to a safer topic.

“Yes.”

“Wonder what’s going on.” The moment he’d spoken, he experienced a twinge of dread. Last time it had been this crowded, the Hunters had invaded. He studied the people below more closely, looking for the telltale sign of the Hunters. A tattoo of infinity. But these people were wearing watches, long sleeves, and he couldn’t see their wrists. Besides, while he knew Hunters were proud of their brands, he also knew they could have started hiding them, marking themselves in discreet locations. Would have been the smart thing to do. “I’m sorry, but we need to go back to the fortress.”

“Good.”

Aeron was already heavily armed, and he never minded fighting on his own, but he had Paris with him. Paris, who was still fuzzed from those massive amounts of ambrosia and would be more a hindrance than a help.

“Wait. Stop!” Paris had tensed against him, and his tone had been disbelieving, hopeful and dripping with wonder.

“What?”

“I think I saw…I think…Sienna.” He said her name as if it was a prayer.

“How is that possible?” Aeron scanned the ground. There were so many faces and he was moving so quickly, he couldn’t really distinguish one from another. But if Paris had seen Sienna, if she was somehow once again alive, then Hunters were definitely here. “Where?”

“Back. Go back. She was heading south.” There was so much excitement in Paris’s voice, Aeron couldn’t resist.

Despite the danger, he turned. He wanted to toss out a warning, don’t get your hopes up, but couldn’t. Stranger things had happened.

Suddenly Paris jerked, grunted. “Find shelter! Now!”

Aeron felt something warm and wet slide over his arms where he gripped Paris’s waist. Then a barrage of arrows pierced Aeron’s wings, tearing the membrane. His arms and legs were next, the muscles ripped open, the bones nicked. As he jerked in pain, understanding dawned. Hunters were indeed here, and they’d spotted him. Had probably been watching and waiting for just such an opportunity.

My fault, he thought. Again. He began to fall…fall…twisting and turning. Crashing.

TORIN LEANED BACK in his chair, hands locked behind his head, feet propped on his desk. He’d been glued here for days, barely leaving to eat, shower or, hell, live. Cameo hadn’t come to see him since the night of her return, and maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t concentrate when she was near and he had more work on his plate than ever before.

He kept the warriors well-moneyed, playing with stocks and bonds. He monitored the surrounding area for intruders. He made all travel arrangements. He researched any leads on Pandora’s box, the artifacts or the Hunters. He was even scouring news sites for any sign of a man-with-wings sighting. Aka Galen. To the best of Torin’s knowledge, Galen and Aeron were the only warriors who possessed the means of flight.

Torin didn’t mind his many jobs because he had the time to do it all; he never left the fortress. To do so could quite possibly kill everyone in the world. So dramatic, he thought dryly. But true. One touch of his skin against another’s was all that was needed to jumpstart a plague. Last one he’d started, thanks to the Hunters, had been here in Buda. At least it had been contained by doctors before it could do too much damage.

But, oh, how he wanted to touch Cameo. Would have given anything for the chance. He pictured her in his mind. Small, slender, that long dark hair, those sad gray eyes.

Would he still want her if he could have his pick of women? he found himself wondering for the thousandth time that day. Would he still want her if he could touch anyone he wished? Go into town anytime? As a man, yeah, he’d want her. She was pretty, smart, amusing if you got past her suicidal voice. But anything permanent? He just didn’t know. Because…his gaze strayed to the monitor to his left.

Every so often he would catch a glimpse of a beautiful woman walking through town. Long black hair, exotic eyes that were bright one moment and glazed the next. She’d pause in her stride, smile, frown, then kick back into gear. When the wind caressed her, ruffling her hair, Torin would catch the barest hint of…pointed ears? Whether he was seeing things or not, the sight of those ears made him hard as a rock. He had the strangest urge to lick them.

She wore a T-shirt that said Nixie’s IAD House O’ Fun, and she had earbuds in her ears. What was a Nixie? A quick Google search and he figured it—she? — was some sort of Immortal After Dark. Interesting. Because he’d like nothing more than to explore her after dark.

What type of music was she listening to? Judging by the brisk nod of her head, it was something fast and hard. Where had she come from? What was she? Delicious, I bet…

Lusting after the strange woman had shaken him, sent those questions about Cameo spiraling through him. If he could desire another, he wasn’t in love with Cameo. And if he wasn’t in love with her, was it cruel of him to mess around with her? Would he eventually hurt her? Hurt himself?

He’d never be able to touch her, and as passionate as she was, she would eventually need a man who could. He’d never had to worry about these things before because he’d never been with a woman. Not even before his possession. He’d been too busy then, too involved in his job. Maybe he needed to join Workaholics Anonymous, he thought dryly. He had to be the only millennia-old virgin in history.

One of his monitors flashed, and he gave it a detailed scan. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of his pointy-eared brunette, either. Another question popped into his head: if Cameo weren’t worried about her demon inflicting untold misery upon a human, would she have chosen another man to dally with?

At the thought of her with another man, there was no intense surge of jealousy, as a taken male should feel. Okay, so there was more confirmation. Much as he adored her, much as he craved her sexually, much as he couldn’t resist her when she stepped inside this room, he wouldn’t have chosen her had circumstances been different.

Damn. What kind of moron was he?

To his right, there was a flash of azure light. Torin twisted to face it, dread already pooling in his stomach. Cronus.

Sure enough, when the light faded, the god king was standing in the middle of Torin’s bedroom. “Hello again, Disease,” said that imperial voice. A white robe draped one of Cronus’s deceptively fragile-looking shoulders and flowed to his ankles. On his feet were leather sandals. What always struck Torin was the clawlike curve of the immortal’s toenails. They just didn’t fit with the man’s old world nobility.

“Your Lordship.” Torin didn’t stand, as he knew Cronus expected. Already this god had too much power over him and his friends. He would keep what he could. Even this, so small a thing.

“Have you been searching for the possessed prisoners as I commanded?”

Torin studied him more intently. Something was different about the god. He looked…younger, maybe. His silver beard wasn’t as thick as usual, and there were streaks of blond mixed with his white hair. If the heavenly sovereign had been going for Botox and highlights, he should have had time for a pedicure.

“Well?”

Wait. What did Cronus want to know? Oh, yeah. “Some of the warriors have been searching for them, yes.”

A muscle ticked in the king’s jaw. “Not good enough. I want the other possessed men and women found as soon as possible.”

Well, Torin wanted to touch a female skin to skin without killing her, or in the case of an immortal, ruining the rest of her endless existence. Not everyone got what they wanted, did they? “Our hands are a little full at the moment.”

Silver eyes narrowed on him. “Un-fill them.”

As if it were that easy. “Wouldn’t matter if I had all the time in the world. Some of the names have been removed from the list, so there’s no way I’ll be able to find them all.”

There was a pause. Then, “I removed them. You did not need those names.”

O-kay. “Why?”

“So many questions, demon. So little action. Find the possessed or suffer my wrath. That is all you need know. I am not asking for the impossible. I have given you the names you require. Now all you must do is find them. You can identify them by the butterflies tattooed on their bodies.” There at the end, the god’s tone had been dry. Almost…amused.

Again, as if it were that easy. “Why butterflies, anyway?” he grumbled, knowing it would do no good to argue. No one was more stubborn than Cronus. But he also knew that Cronus needed him to find and contain Galen. What he didn’t know—what nobody knew—was why the god king couldn’t do so on his own. Cronus wasn’t exactly forthcoming.

“Many reasons.”

“I’m un-filling my time, as commanded, so I’ve got enough to spare to listen to every one of those reasons.”

Cronus’s jaw clenched. “Someone considers himself more useful than he actually is, I see.”

“My apologies,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am lower than low, a nothing, unneeded, useless.”

Cronus inclined his head in acknowledgment. “As my pet so quickly learned his place, I will give him a reward. You wish to know about the butterflies. Butterflies my children, the Greeks, bestowed upon you.”

Torin nodded stiffly, not daring to speak lest he talk the god out of this boon.

“Before your possession, you were limited in what you could do, where you could go. Trapped in a cocoon, you could say. Now look at you.” He waved his hand along Torin’s body. “You emerged as something dark but beautiful. That’s why I would have chosen the mark, at least. My children, well…” He opened his mouth to say more, paused, and then his head tilted to the side. “You have another visitor. Next time I visit you, Disease, I expect results. Or you will not find me so lenient.” And then the god was gone and there was a knock at the door.

Torin flicked a glance to the monitor at his left. Cameo waved up at him, as if his earlier thoughts had summoned her. He shoved Cronus and the god’s warnings to the back of his mind. He planned to help the king, but he would not jump when the bastard said jump. Pet, indeed.

Body still prepped and ready because of the glimpses he’d gotten of Lickable Ears, he pressed the button that unlocked his door. Cameo sailed inside, closing the wood behind her with a determined click. He swiveled in his chair, studying her with new understanding. Her color was high, pretty, and tension hummed from her. But that was all. Tension. The need for release.

No, she wouldn’t have chosen him, either.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said, twining his fingers over his middle.

Her hips swayed as she approached him, and her lips curled into a slow smile. “All right.” She’d probably meant to sound husky, sexy, but that tragic voice only reached I-might-not-kill-myself-after-all.

“Why me? You could have any man here.”

That had her grinding to a stop. Then her smile inched into a frown as she hopped onto the edge of his desk, out of reach, legs swinging. “You really want to talk about this?”

“Yes.”

“It won’t be pleasant.”

“What is, these days?”

“Okay, then. You understand me, my demon. My curse.”

“So do the others here.”

Her fingers twisted in her lap. “Again, I have to ask if you really want to go there. Especially since we could be doing something else…”

Did he? It might alter the good thing they had going. Pleasure for both of them. Pleasure he wouldn’t—and couldn’t—get anywhere else. “Yeah. I want to go there.” Idiot. But every day he saw Maddox and Ashlyn, Lucien and Anya, Reyes and Danika, and now Sabin and the Harpy, and he wanted something like that for himself.

Not that he could ever have it. He’d tried once, about four hundred years ago. All he’d had to do to ruin it was take off his gloves, caress his would-be-lover’s face—and then watch her die the next day, her body ravaged by the disease he’d given her.

He couldn’t go through that again.

Since then, he’d purposely stayed away from all things female. Until Cameo. She was the first woman he’d looked at, truly looked at, in too many years to count.

Her gaze darted away from him. “You’re here. You never leave. You won’t be killed in a battle. The man I loved was taken from me, tortured by my enemy and sent back in pieces. I don’t have to worry about that with you. And I like you. I really do.”

But she didn’t love him, and the potential for love, the forever, die-without-you kind of love, anyway, wasn’t there.

And wasn’t that just about on par with the rest of his life?

“So…do you want to stop?” she asked softly.

He glanced at the monitor again. No sign of his pointy-eared babe. “Do I look stupid?”

A laugh escaped her, chasing away her sadness. “Good. We’ll continue on as we have been. Right?”

“Right. But what happens when you meet a man you could love?”

She bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “We’ll stop.” She didn’t ask him the same question. Except, of course, switching “man” for “woman.” Both of them knew he’d never meet a woman who could live with him in any sense of the word.

One of his computers beeped, catching his attention. He straightened, scanning until he found the proper screen. A breath whistled from between his teeth. “Holy hell, I did it!”

“What?” Cameo asked.

“I found Galen. And, shit, you aren’t going to believe where he is.”

“YOU’RE NOT LEAVING ME,” Sabin told Gwen. Then, to her sisters, he said, “You’re not taking her away from me.” They’d spent the last hour packing their stuff—and some of his—and were now standing in the foyer of the fortress.

They were ready to leave, but Gwen kept stalling, “remembering” something she’d left in his room.

He knew the Harpies meant to take her away, for now and always. Right in front of him, they’d talked about how they didn’t want him around Gwen anymore. They thought she was breaking too many rules, softening too much for a man who could never place her first on his list of priorities. More than that, they didn’t like that he’d made love to her out in the open, where anyone, even an enemy, could have snuck up on him.

They liked him, appreciated what he’d done to toughen Gwen up—that had been admitted grudgingly—but still considered him bad for her. And not the good kind of bad.

Hearing them talk, thinking about being without her, was screwing with his head. He couldn’t be without her. Wouldn’t be without her. He wouldn’t lose her to her sisters and he damn sure wouldn’t lose her to his war. He needed her.

“We’ll do anything we damn well please,” Bianka said, her tone daring him to contradict her again. “Soon as Gwen finds her…whatever she mentioned this time…we’re gone.”

“We’ll see about that.” His phone beeped, signaling a message. Frowning, he withdrew the device from his pocket. A text from Torin.

Galen in Buda. With an army. Prepare.

Then Cameo was racing down the stairs. “Did you hear?” she demanded.

“Yeah.”

“What?” the Harpies asked. Even though they were planning to leave, they still felt entitled to know his business. Figured.

“He probably never left,” Cameo continued as if they hadn’t spoken. She stopped in front of him. “He’s probably been here the whole time, waiting, watching, growing his numbers. And now that we’re down half our number…”

“Shit.” Sabin scoured his face with a hard hand. “What better time to punish us for what happened in Egypt. And let’s not forget he wants those women back.” Gwen included.

“Yeah. Torin’s alerting the others,” she said. “They’re not headed here, at least, but they are assembling in town.”

“What the hell is going on?” Bianka demanded.

“Hunters are here and ready for battle,” Sabin told her. “You said you’d fight for me, help me defeat them. Well, now’s your chance.” First, though, he had to figure out what to do about Gwen while he—they? — were gone. If they dared try to abscond with her while his back was turned…

A snarl rose in his throat, tickling his voice box.

And yeah, the thought of leaving a strong, capable warrior behind was foreign to him. Even straight-up ridiculous. Especially since he’d thought to send Gwen into battle from the very beginning. But he wasn’t going to change his mind. Somehow, some way, Gwen had become the most important thing in his life.

He’d left her alone these past few days, trying to diminish her importance to him, as well as straighten out his priorities. Hadn’t worked. She’d become more important—and his number one priority.

Just then Kane rushed past them. He was carrying the still-broken portrait of Galen that Danika had painted, one half in each hand.

“What are you doing with that?” Sabin called.

“Torin wants me to lock it up,” was the reply. “Just in case.”

Gaping, Kaia grabbed Kane by the arm, stopping him. “How did you get that? I hope you know you’re going to pay for breaking it, you bast—” She released him with a yelp and rubbed her palm. “How the hell did you shock me like that?”

“I have no—”

“Oh, my God!” Gwen pounded down the steps, her gaze riveted on the portrait. Her skin was pale, her mouth hanging open. “How did you get that?”

“What’s wrong?” Sabin crossed the threshold to stand beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She was trembling.

Taliyah’s cool gaze shot from Gwen to the portrait, the portrait to Gwen. She, too, was paling, her already pallid skin revealing deep blue veins. “We need to go,” she said, and for the first time since Sabin had met her, there was emotion in her tone. Dread. Worry.

Bianka pounded forward and grabbed for Gwen’s wrist. “Don’t say a word. Let’s get out of here, go home.”

“Gwen,” Sabin said, holding tight. What the hell was going on?

A tug-of-war began, but Gwen barely seemed to notice.

“My father,” she finally said, the words so quiet he had to strain to hear.

“What about your father?” he prompted. She’d never spoken of the man before, so he’d just assumed whoever it was was not a part of her life.

“They don’t like me to talk about him. He’s not like us. But how did you get this? It was hanging in my room in Alaska.”

“Wait.” He glanced at the portrait. “Are you saying…”

“That man is my father, yes.”

No. No. “That’s not possible. Look more closely and you’ll see that you’re mistaken.” Be mistaken. Please be mistaken. He gripped her shoulders and forced her to face the painting.

“I’m not mistaken. That’s him. I never knew him, but I’ve studied this painting my entire life.” Her tone was wistful. “It’s the only link I have to my good side.”

“Impossible.”

“Gwen!” the Harpies shouted as one. “Enough.”

She ignored them. “I’m telling you, that’s my father. Why? What’s wrong with you? And how did you get the painting? Why is it broken?”

Another wave of denial burst through him, followed quickly by shock and more slowly by acceptance. With the acceptance came fury. So much fury, blended with the very dread and worry Taliyah had expressed. Galen was Gwen’s father. Galen, his greatest enemy, the immortal responsible for the worst days of his long, long life, was Gwen’s fucking father.

“Shit,” Kane said. “Shit, shit, shit. This is bad. Very bad.”

Sabin popped his jaw and did his best to gather his composure. “The portrait is hanging in your room? This exact portrait?”

She nodded. “My mother gave it to me. She painted it years ago, when she realized she carried me. She wanted me to see the angel, to want to be different from him.”

“Gwen,” Kaia snapped, pulling on her sister all the harder. “We told you to stop.”

She didn’t. It was as though the words were leaving her of their own free will, bottled up too long and spilling over. And maybe, having learned to fight, she was no longer afraid to stand up for what she desired. “She had a broken wing and crawled into a cave to heal. He was chasing a demon disguised as a human, a demon who ran inside that cave and tried to use her as a shield. He saved her, got rid of the demon.

“He doctored her, and she slept with him, even though she hated what he was. She said she couldn’t help herself, that she felt hopeful of a future with him. A future she had somehow convinced herself she wanted. Afterward, the dark-haired woman you see there arrived with a message, something about catching sight of a spirit, and he had to leave. He told her to wait, that he’d come back for her. But when he was gone, my mother regained her senses, realized she wanted nothing to do with a real live angel, and left. She’s an artist, and when I was born she painted his portrait with the woman. The last vision she had of him was to be my first, she said.”

Dear. Gods. “Do you know who your father is, Gwen?” he demanded.

Finally her eyes tore from the portrait and landed on him, confusion swimming in their depths. “Yes. An angel, like I said. An angel my mother seduced. That’s why I’m the way I am. Weaker, less aggressive.”

She wasn’t that way any longer, but now was hardly the time to point that out. “Galen is no angel,” Sabin said, his disgust loud and clear. “The man you’re looking at, naming your father, is a demon, the keeper of Hope. I guarantee he’s the reason your mother experienced that false sense of hope for a future with him and why she wised up so soon after he left.”

A heavy gasp escaped her, and she shook her head violently. “No. No, that can’t be right. If I possessed demon blood, I would have been strong like my sisters.”

“You always were, you just refused to see it,” Bianka said. “Mom beat down your confidence, is my guess.”

Sabin closed his eyes, opened them. Why did this have to happen now?

“That man is just like me, except for one important distinction. He’s the leader of the Hunters. He’s responsible for the rape of those women. He’s commander of the men who captured you. He’s here, in Buda, and he’s itching for battle.” As he spoke, he realized his mistake. Delight sparked in her eyes at the knowledge that her father was nearby.

Not so long ago, Sabin had entertained the thought that the Hunters had planted her in that cell, thinking to use her as Bait to learn his secrets and lure him to his death. He’d discarded that thought immediately. He still discarded it, even though Doubt was shouting in his head, tossing out other possibilities.

She was more dangerous than Bait. Galen could play the father card to get her to betray Sabin.

Damn this!

“That just can’t be right,” Gwen repeated, delight replaced by disbelief as she faced her sisters. “I’ve never been like you, despite what Bianka said. I’ve always been too soft. Like an angel. How could my father be a demon? I would have been worse than you! Right? I mean…I can’t…did you know anything about this?”

Ignoring her, Kaia stepped forward, getting in Sabin’s face, placing them nose to nose. “You’re lying. Much as we have always wished otherwise, her father is not a demon. And he’s certainly not leading those Hunters. If Gwen were half demon, we would have known it. She wouldn’t have—there’s just been some sort of mistake. Gwen’s father is not the leader of your enemy, so don’t even think about hurting her!”

Gwen’s goddamn father. The words echoed through his mind, though he almost couldn’t process them. Any future he’d imagined with Gwen was most likely ruined. Even if she was completely innocent and hadn’t aided her bastard of a father, which he knew she was, Sabin planned to lock him away for eternity. How could she live with the warrior who’d imprisoned her father?

Besides, most people wouldn’t turn on family, no matter the circumstances. He wouldn’t. His friends—his makeshift family—were everything to him. Always had been. And it had to stay that way.

No matter how much his mind might be screaming not to do what he was now planning.

Gwen might not have aided her father, but that could change at any moment, now that she knew who he was. Fucking Fate!

“Maybe Kaia’s right and you’re mistaken,” she said hopefully, clutching his shirt. “Maybe—”

“I spent a thousand years with that man, guarding the king of gods in the heavens. I spent a few thousand more hating him with every fiber of my being. I damn well know who he is.”

“Why would a demon lead the Hunters? Why does he want to find the box that will destroy all of you if it will destroy him, too? Huh? Tell me that!”

“I don’t know how he’ll save himself. But I do know he’s the reason we opened that damn box in the first place! He would do anything, even send his own daughter into our midst, to ruin us. And since our possession, he’s fooled those humans into thinking he’s an angel. That’s how he’s able to lead them.”

She scrubbed a hand down her face, a mimic of him. “Maybe you’re right about him, maybe you’re wrong. Either way, I didn’t know.” Her eyes were luminous, even half-circled as they were by fading bruises. “And I didn’t conspire against you.”

He drew in a shuddering breath, released it. “I know you didn’t.”

“What is it, then? Do you think I’ll aid him one day, now that I know who he is? I won’t. I would never do that to you. Yeah, I’m leaving as planned,” her voice broke at that, “because you don’t trust me to fight with you. But you can trust me to keep your secrets safe.”

“Save it,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere.” And then he went for her wings.