The Bird on the Ground (M/M Romance) Monster Island: Book 2

Chapter 3 - Birds of Prey

I got back to the treehouse a few hours after I left. The sun was still up, but it was pretty late in the day. My home was quiet when I reached the top of the ladder, and a quick scan of the inside told me that Anderson had stepped out. I had no idea what his schedule was like, and I don't think he was exactly going to give me a list of dates and times when he would and wouldn't be home.

I fell into my nest, letting the comforting, familiar scent surround me. My wings were stiff, wrapped in fresh bandages, though they would be able to come off soon. I was still grounded from flying, but I was eager for some kind of progress. At this point, I'd take anything.

I looked around the treehouse. Anderson's stuff was everywhere. It suddenly rankled something in me to realize I didn't even know Anderson's first name. Was Anderson even his real surname? Probably not, if all those stories about dragons being hunted were true. Even one as capable as Anderson would need some level of protection. I knew a little about how things worked in their department. It's not like this was my first run-in with the SDF.

The Supernatural Defense Force was a special branch of the government charged with keeping people like us safe. Usually, it involved keeping us protected from hunters, making sure we weren't found out by the general human population, and even protecting us from each other (like Vampires attacking our island). I wasn't a huge fan of the government keeping such a close eye on all of us. Being watched so closely, being monitored in gods-know how many ways, always made me itch. But they saved my life once before, so I figured the least I could do was be cooperative.

I found Anderson's dirty plate by the sink. I frowned down at it. There were chunks of tomato and egg left on it, though he ate most of it. He could have at least washed it. I breathed a sigh out through my nose and started tidying up the place. I knew that Anderson was busy, could he not leave a trail of messes in his wake?

There was a sudden, loud thump, and I dropped the plate. Thankfully, it didn't break, but it did clatter noisily in the sink. Then, there was a knock on the door to my treehouse. I knew by the minty scent who it was.

I debated not opening the door, but dropping that plate meant he definitely heard me. Steeling myself, I opened the door slowly, groaning internally at the Harpy on the other side. Sacha had the wings of an osprey and stark white hair. He had light gray eyes and a mouth that always seemed to be smirking, and he was a pain in my ass.

"Hey there, pretty bird," he sang, leaning against my door frame. I was pretty tall for a Harpy, but Sacha dwarfed me like most birds of prey. He was easily a few inches taller, and he had almost twice as much muscle mass as me.

"Hi, Sacha." I did my best to sound uninterested, but I knew he wouldn't get the hint. He either played dumb or was actually that obtuse.

He strode into my house with the confidence of a peacock. His feathers were, as always, perfectly groomed. He was wearing a flowy blue tunic tucked into a pair of cream-colored linen pants. He looked like a model for some kind of beachy magazine. Sacha slowed to a stop as he took in the interior of my treehouse. I saw the wiggle of his nose as he not-so-subtly scented the air, no doubt getting a lungful of Anderson's sandalwood cologne.

"Houseguest?" he asked, finally turning to face me. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, but I could tell by the set of his jaw that the idea bothered him.

"Of a kind," I said vaguely. Maybe if he got the wrong idea about Anderson and me, he'd leave me alone for a while.

The tip of his perfect nose wrinkled in a sneer, but it disappeared immediately. "Well," he said, strolling around the treehouse. He slowed near the unrolled map on my table, eyes dancing across it curiously. "As long as it doesn't get in the way of us—"

"Us?" I asked, unable to keep the humor out of my voice.

That hint of a sneer returned to his face, but again, it vanished. A saccharine smile replaced it. "Feisty as ever, pretty bird." He sat on top of my table, crinkling the map beneath him. He leaned back on open palms and spread his wings ever so slightly. Was he...posing? "Come into town with me." It wasn't a question. It was never a question with Sacha. It was always a command.

"What?"

"They're building that new library, but there are already some shops and some restaurants open. They're even building some roads and walkways, and a public park too." I blinked at him, but he kept going. "There's an island-wide opening ceremony to celebrate everything, including the new protective wards on the island. I want you to be my date." He stood from the table, leaning far too much into my space. His breath smelled of too-strong mint, and his teeth were eerily white. They looked sharp.

I tried to back up but hit the wall instead. Cornered, I gaped at him. You can't be serious.

He took my silence in stride. Very little seemed to ever ruffle his feathers, except being told 'no'. "It's two weeks from now," he continued. "Think about it."

He trailed a hand over my neck, and the audacity of it froze me. My heartbeat galloped in my chest as he scented me without permission. His toothy smile seemed to glint in the evening light, and the pungent smell of mint and pennies was left in his wake. He left shortly after, but his overwhelming presence remained long after he launched himself into the sky from my front porch.

I scrubbed at my neck viciously, tears pricking at my eyes as I tried to rid myself of his stench. What a fucking day.