A Court of Wings and Fate

39. An Angel's Worship

    Mikael spent several minutes just staring at her wings, wondering where to begin. They were so large and beautiful. He wanted to learn every inch of them. Umbra squeezed his arm, yanking him towards Estelle.

    You're right. I'd better hurry before she changes her mind, he thought with some amusement.

    He came closer and felt the base of her wings. They were sturdy and hard, fading from black membrane into bronze flesh. Mikael let his fingers travel up the scarred length of her central tendon. He traced the scars, anger burning in his stomach.

    He pushed it aside and replaced his fingers with his lips. Estelle's breath faltered for just a moment. Mikael glanced at her. She stared at the crackling fireplace, her face illuminated by the glowing embers. His hand followed the curve of her wicked horn, before moving on to the thick skin covering the back of her wing.

    "The outer part isn't as sensitive as the inner," Estelle murmured.

    "You've never let anyone touch your wings before?" Mikael asked. He stepped in front of her, eyeing the interior folds of her wings.

    "Not unless healing was involved, as I've said."

    "Then I'm honored to be the first." Mikael smiled at her and felt along the inner part of her wing. He followed the shape of it with his fingers, nearing the apex of her wings. Estelle's breath quickened and she swallowed hard. "Is this all right?"

    She nodded. "Keep going."

    Mikael didn't reach the apex. He came closer to her shoulder, touching the inner base. Estelle made a small sound, lifting her chin. "I've researched Illyrian wings," he said.

    "Oh?" Her voice was shaking. He reached another sensitive area and she gritted her teeth. Mikael rubbed the spot again and she whimpered.

    "I've memorized which areas are more sensitive than others. I've studied ways Illyrians like their wings to be touched." He smirked as she breathed a soft moan. "I read Lonely Sings the Nightingale five times, marking the...important...passages. No wonder it's a favorite of yours."

    His hand drifted higher. Estelle's breathing was ragged. She had her legs clenched together. Instincts surged as Mikael detected the shift in her scent. "Keep going," she whispered.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Fuck, Mikael. Keep going."

    Mikael's fingers neared the apex of her wings. Estelle swallowed, bending at the knees slightly. "I've read that Illyrians can climax if you touch their wings in just the right way, at just the right spot. Shall I find where that spot is for you?" Estelle's eyes were half closed. She nodded with a soft whimper. "I need to hear you say yes, Love."

    "Yes," Estelle moaned. "Yes."

    Mikael pulled his hands away from her wings and guided her to the bed. She laid back as he eased himself on top of her. Her heart raced, matching the thunderous tempo of his own. Mikael pressed a kiss to her lips, then returned his attention to her wings. He was going to enjoy this. He was going to make sure she enjoyed this.

    He began at the base of her wings. Mikael slipped his fingers into the divot of her skin and central tendon. He worked his way up slowly, planting kisses against the thin membrane as he went. Estelle's head was turned towards him, but her eyes remained partially closed. The shadows drifted around her, mimicking his movements on her other wing.

    Mikael watched her from the corner of his eye. He replaced his fingers with his tongue. Estelle inhaled sharply, digging her nails into the sheets. Her chest heaved, her breaths becoming more uneven the higher up her wing he went.