The Serpent and the Wings of Night

A flinch—of surprise, or maybe discomfort?—flitted across his face.

“An old friend who deserves more respect than to be used as some prick’s pathetic attempt at intimidation.” His eyes hardened. “Be careful with him. He’s a dangerous person.”

“Some would call you a dangerous person.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Not with you.”

I hoped he didn’t hear whatever strange thing my heart did at that—the sudden tightness in my chest.

His gaze lifted past me, to the church and the party happening within its walls.

“I hate being here,” he said. “Do you want to go somewhere more fun?”

I knew it was stupid to agree.

And yet, I didn’t regret it at all when I answered without hesitation, “Fuck, yes. Please.”