Where was her bag? Where the fuck was her bag?

Sagan scoured the wreckage near the river for her stuff. One possession, only one, mattered.

There!

The duffle was hanging from a branch on the bank. Falling in would suck. Sagan risked it anyway. This mattered. Retrieving the bag took some gymnastics, but she managed. Peering into the large duffle, she smiled.

Her axe.

The feel of the cold metal in Sagan’s hand reassured her. She’d hallucinated him outside the plane, of course. It was a ridiculous notion that he’d swept through those raging currents to glimpse her safely plummeting through the pre-dawn sky.

A keening noise erupted through the forest. Sagan peered up. It was the same howl from the Invasion Day Battle at J. A. Fair when Matt had described the gargoyles to her.

Rayne.

At that moment, two Icari flew overhead. Shit.

Sagan hauled ass into denser tree coverage. Gripping the axe like a lifeline, she slipped from tree to tree. Her purple trench coat grew heavy the more snow saturated it. Russia was unbelievably cold. She dared not cry out for her friends without risking giving away her location to the alien soldiers.

Sagan broke into a clearing, breathing hard and puffing white when the two pursuing Icari landed with a battle cry. Both were dressed in black robes. They didn’t bear the identifying lineages of Colita’s men, nor the shining armor of Korac’s super soldiers.

These were grunts, lucky for Sagan. She charged at one, aiming for decapitation, and four more landed in the clearing, surrounding her. Double shit.

Sagan retreated into the trees and rushed into another clearing to the ever-closer howling of the gargoyles. Snow crushed behind. Wings buffeted. They appeared in the expanse ahead of her, oozing from the tree line as she ran straight into it.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

As the dawn broke on the horizon through the glade, an angel brandishing a familiar axe descended from heaven in his favorite three-point stance. The force of his landing blew back the others, and the ethereal sight of Korac sent Sagan sliding to her knees in the snow.

Unadorned, Korac’s long white, almost silver, hair provided a silken curtain against the backdrop of black wings. Ashen skin glowed from the morning sun behind him. With him dressed all in white, Sagan’s breath left her on a gasp. A sleeveless shirt with a high collar and a boxy shape flattered his wide shoulders and broad chest in an act of divine cruelty. A slit from collar to hip gaped. With one glance through the gap, Sagan wasn’t cold anymore. She melted. Truly on her hands and knees before Korac. White martial arts pants and bare feet completed the outfit.

And yes.

Even his feet were pretty. Perfectly pedicured.

The soldiers retreated into the woods with one fuming glance from Korac.

Sagan dropped the axe, saying, “I give up. I can’t fight you anymore.” She shook her head and straightened on her knees. “I never know if you’re really here or if I’m seeing things. But I can’t hide it anymore. I’m glad to see you.”

As Sagan spoke, Korac’s pale brows drew tight over those stormy eyes without marring the perfection of his carved face. He took two long strides toward her. Sagan didn’t flinch, blink, or make a move to escape. Korac glanced at her axe and tossed its mate beside it.

When he scooped her into his arms, she clung to him. Her friends would manage without her. Maybe she could occupy and distract Korac for the duration of the war. A few ideas sprung to mind.

The wind from his wings buffeted strands of his hair across Sagan’s face. Once. Twice. Then she snuggled tighter in his arms as Korac carried her high into the air. So very, very high. She swallowed and forced her ears to pop. The velocity of his ascent made her squeeze her eyes shut against his chest and sent her pulse racing through her veins. But she was safe. In his arms, she was safer than anywhere on the two worlds.

When Korac stopped, Sagan clutched him afraid to face him. It hurt her heart to look at him, as if seeing him sent her cardiovascular system into an arrhythmia which stole her breath away. The thin air left her giddy, the sudden stop made her dizzy, and the winter smell of him reminded her of the encounter on the motorcycle. Had it been real—

“Sagan.”

Korac’s voice, at once soothing and arresting, coaxed her out of hiding. She peered up at him, and there went her lungs, useless as they were. She couldn’t fault them for it. Especially as he curled his lips into a smirk. If she hadn’t been hallucinating, they were as soft as they looked.

Korac said, “As much as I enjoy the way you gaze at me, I can’t indulge basking in your remarkable violet eyes for long.”

Sagan shivered, and he tightened his hold, mistaking it for a reaction to the cold.

His eyes shifted to warm gray as he dropped the bomb. “Every encounter was real.”

Frowning at Korac, Sagan’s mouth fell open. “But… That’s impossible.” With the altitude, her voice sounded thin and reedy.

Korac said, “I never knew you doubted it all until now. You opened the door. I simply stepped through.” His hand kneaded her thigh absently, comforting and distracting her.

“At Iona?”

With his nod, Sagan asked further, “The motorcycle two nights ago?!”

Korac said, “One of my favorite memories.” With that arrogant smirk, he leaned down and whispered, “Watermelon.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sagan’s eyes grew as wide as her face would allow, her pulse beat at the walls of her veins. Moving on. She asked, “So. Did we…? I don’t know what happened.”

“You fainted. I took you back to Iona. That was the end of it.”

Warmth filled Sagan’s chest, knowing he didn’t take advantage of her. “Wait. What happened to my bra?”

The smirk broadened into a grin. “Before I left, you gave it to me.”

Sagan’s face burned even in the cold, reddening her cheeks until she felt the heat through her eyes. “But how? You said I opened a door…”

“You can manipulate conduits like your ancestor. You—”

The high keen of the gargoyles cried loud enough to reach them.

Sagan asked, “What are those?”

Korac said, “Hellkites. And they mark the end of our time. Sagan.”

She looked into his eyes. His face grew remote, a mask to hide an emotion straining beneath. Was it fear?

“Stay away from Rayne. Put as much distance between the two of you as possible.”

“Korac.” Sagan wanted to tell him he asked too much of her, but she’d gotten as far as the one word. At his name on her lips, his eyes flashed and shifted into a ripple of his Icarean nature in solid, soft gray with a white stripe, then back to their usual white with gray flecks.

Sagan let out a breath on a puff of white frost. It was the first time she’d said his name.

Korac bowed to meet her, and she reached for him. They kissed in the middle, a capture of full bottom lips and soft bows. Her tongue found his first, warm and demanding. As he stole the air from her lungs, her heart somersaulted in her chest. When she dug her nails into his neck, he purred for her. Her free hand greedily sought the gap in his shirt and the heat she found there.

All the while they lost altitude, slowly, as Korac buffeted his wings for the descent. The Icarus could multitask. Something tickled Sagan’s cheek with a feather-light touch. Distracted, she broke the kiss. Snow fell around them as he brought her back to Earth. When she turned back to him, Korac stared at Sagn, appreciating her wonder.

Breathless and swept away, she asked, “When I get my nacre, will you give me my wings?”

At her request, Korac’s eyes transformed completely. A gray not unlike his complexion with a center white stripe for his pupil. He swallowed once before responding with a vow. His voice harmonized in three pitches. “Take of me what you need. Give to me what you want.” The eloquent cadence of Korac’s smooth voice hypnotized Sagan. The words seared on her soul.

They alighted on the snowy forest floor in the same clearing he’d stolen her from. He set her down as he spoke, one hot hand inside her trench coat at her lower back and the other cradling her nape. Heady and lost in his eyes, Sagan gave when Korac gently bowed her back. “Until eternity takes me…” He pressed his lips to the exposed skin of her chest between her heart and her throat. “…I am yours.”

Her nacre. Korac kissed where Sagan’s nacre belonged.

A tear threatened to squeeze from her eyes and freeze on her cheek. “I—”

The high-pitched howl of the hellkites resonated through the trees, reminding Sagan of her mission and the schism of opposition gaping between them. Korac cupped Sagan’s cheek and brushed his thumb lightly down the scar. He said, “Soon, this will be gone.” How did he know—

“Sagan?!” Xelan’s voice cracked like a whip through the clearing.

She spun, her heart jumped in her throat, and her mind reeled with excuses for her proximity to Korac. Nothing came to mind. Nothing convincing anyway. Found wrapped in a mass murderer’s arms, Sagan gulped.

The look on Xelan’s face crushed Sagan. Wrenched and heartbroken, she’d disappointed him. It twisted her insides to see him that way. His voice dripped with ugly bitterness as he confronted the other Icarus, “With Nox finding a young impressionable target, I wondered if you’d found one for yourself.”

Sagan winced. Xelan spoke of her as if she weren’t standing right in front of him, between them.

The hand at her back rubbed in a small, comforting circle. Korac appeared under control, unaffected. The gesture was the only sign he cared. In an even tone, he said, “Well, it was about time I moved on.” He took his eyes off Xelan and glanced at her. “Sagan, do you want to go back with him, now, safe and unharmed of your own free will?”

Was this a game to them? Like when a dog chooses an owner between two people in a movie? Which one do they pick? Korac emphasized that Sagan had chosen to spend time with him. He’d also noticed that Xelan’s undercutting had hurt her. But this whole strife seemed petty beneath such creatures with so much at stake.

Men.

Then it connected for her. The subtext. The missing puzzle piece.

“Banana.”

Icarean eyes blew wider than saucers. Both sets. Their mouths dropped open and gaped at Sagan. She stepped away from Korac when both his hands fell useless to his sides in shock.

Taking her place between them, Sagan said, “I figured it out. I won’t ask questions or throw it in your faces. It’s none of my business.” She walked over to the axes and picked them up. “I also assume it’s quite old business.”

Sagan gave Xelan a level stare as she continued, “If it’s true, and I’m guessing it is, you can’t judge me for wanting him.” Her coach went rigid, his complexion ghastly, and his brows furrowed so hard she thought the lines might become permanent.

Sagan turned and leveled that same gaze at Korac. “And you.” He stopped gaping and quirked a brow at her, ready for his turn. She said, “You can’t tell me when and how to defend my leader after picking the side you’ve obviously chosen. I will follow and protect Rayne wherever she goes. If you survive us winning this war, we can talk about it when it’s over.” She tossed him the axe, which he deftly caught. “Go. Take the hellkites with you.”

After Korac raked his smoldering gaze over her, he presented her with a salacious smirk. “Yes, sir, Lt. General.” He nodded once beyond her. “Traitor Prince.” With that, he spread his wings and took to the sky.

Distraught with his parting and the state it had left her in, Sagan turned to face her favorite Icarus of both worlds. He was staring at the snow. He couldn’t even look at her.

Tears stung Sagan’s eyes. What should she apologize for first? “I—”

“You cannot trust him. He will play on your emotions, distract you from your cause, and when he shows his true face, it will destroy you.” Xelan choked on half his words.

Sagan crunched the snow as she stepped up to him, shoulders back, chin high. She said, “You know. You get it. I don’t have to explain to you that it’s already too late for me to see reason or sense. You know exactly what I’m going through because it happened to you. He happened to you.”

Xelan winced at Sagan’s choice of words, but he saved her the denials. After another minute of tense silence, he said, “We’ll be here for you when you need us.”

Bleak. Sad.

Xelan made to turn away and leave, but Sagan stole his hand. A human can’t really pull an Icarus into a hug if they don’t want it. She more or less pulled herself into it until she crushed him with her tiny body and enormous axe. Warm. So warm. When he wrapped his arms around her, she let out a sob into his coat.

The hellkites cried through the trees again. Xelan and Sagan broke apart to look at the snowy sky. Massive, winged beasts with charred skin and horns flew overhead. Their massive wingspans spread across the treetops. Everything about them looked wrong, piece-milled. “How…”

“Genetically modified.”

Sagan glanced at Xelan and let the question hang in the air.

“Yes, by me.” He cleared his throat. “The others are waiting by the conduit.”

The need surged through Sagan, and the words came out unbidden. “I’ll keep your secret. Please don’t hate me for mine, Xelan.”

He gave a quick shake of the head. “Never. I could never hate you.” Xelan sighed and pulled her in for another hug. This time he kissed the top of Sagan’s head. “When we get some time, I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me. And I’ll share with you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Both emotionally overwrought, Xelan said, “Let’s get those nacres before anything else can happen today.”

What a day. “Where’s Tameka?”

He perked up at the mention of her name. Love. “Awake and waiting with the others.”

“I bet she’s pissed she missed the plane crash.” Sagan couldn’t stop grinning at the thought.

Xelan’s deep laughter rolled through the trees, instantly filling Sagan with its warmth and mirth. Everything would be all right. “If ever there was a more accurate statement…”

As they walked, Xelan told Sagan the story of them landing and Tameka waking, crunching through the snow with peace in her heart.

Family.