“I can hear the storms coming,” Vessa whispered into the night. Her breath hit the air in misted clouds, drifting into the space just outside our blanket.

     She played a good game when it came to hiding certain things. Times when I couldn’t see her eyes but could still feel the way her heart was beating. She was nervous. Not because of who we’d killed hours prior. No, the moment she’d struck that man in the chest with nothing but her daggered fingers, she’d walked out of the tavern with his herbed smoke hanging from her lips. Sated and satisfied, she’d held out her arm for me to perch upon as a raven.

     For her, killing was easier than sleeping. Taking lives came like first nature before knowing what it felt like to have a decent night’s rest.

     She kept her sights on those two storms through half-lidded eyes. My senses were good enough to hear the way her thick lashes flicked open every time thunder rattled the ground. These lands were known for unexpected turns, just as much as the outlaws who plagued them. It seemed to follow her more than all the souls that shadowed her heart.

     She sank herself against me, searching for my warmth she so easily despised. The way she wiggled her body was a subtle, I hate you, but all I could do was hide my smile.

     And I need you, I wished I could’ve said.

     She allowed me to drape my arm over her while she rested her head beneath my other.

     “You know, you’d be far more comfortable if you’d just stop being so fucking stubborn.” The corner of my mouth curved into a grin. I leaned into her hair, noticing how her ear shone in the moonlight as it peeked through her soft, wavy hair before my lips parted slightly. “You need my warmth.”

     Vessa scoffed lazily, but I could sense the smile on her face.

     Then I was met with silence while we listened to the faint howls from the pack of coyotes that had crested one of the hills.           They always watched us from a distance, but eventually they’d grow bored and disappear.

     It wasn’t long until she adjusted herself again.

     My fucking gods, the way her ass pressed against my dick.

     But I was the last male she’d ever play that game with.

     I took a deep breath to steady my worthless beating heart, hoping she wouldn’t feel it thrashing against her back or the arousal swelling in my pants. I needed to shift and fly away.

     Her worries were far from what lay beneath these blankets. I felt her eyes settle on the flashes of lightning far off in the distance. The dread quickly spread across her chest, enough to send her heart racing. She hated being on guard, always worried we’d have to leave without warning.

     “Don’t worry, it won’t reach us,” I said softly into her ear.

     The resistance in her long pause was enough to give me peace.

     Good.

     My words had calmed her, even if she despised me half the time.

     “Do you promise?” she asked.

     I felt her guard slipping, just a little.

     It was that slight rasp in her voice, the ache in her body that was dying for a good night’s rest. There were so many things I wished I could give her. So many things I wished I could indulge her with. My body yearned to replace her worries with pleasure. To have my breath warming her lips in ways that weren’t for survival. I wanted to press her body against mine and quietly spread her apart so I could slip inside her slick heat, making love to her beneath the moon. Hells, even if it wasn’t love, how I yearned for her to ride me like she rode those godsdamn cowboys, even if there weren’t any strings attached. Maybe that was the problem. We were forced into this bond, and the wildness in her didn’t want those chains.

     There were still so many things I’d give up for her. Things I’d still try to do, even though they could drain—quite possibly kill—me.

     “I promise.” I spoke the truth.

     Her pulse calmed as she turned in my arms, facing me in the middle of the night.

     This was my favorite part. When she was too tired to hate me. When she unveiled the softest parts of herself.

     Maybe this was what it felt like to be with her. To be seen as someone more than a bodyguard or a bird.

     Maybe more than a friend.

     As she searched my eyes for something familiar, End’s Wrath’s snores filled the small space between us. He snorted extra loud, sending both of us smiling.

     End’s Wrath was asleep on the other side of the campfire.

     Away from all y’all’s bullshit, was what he’d always say each night while setting up camp, always taking the furthest spot from the fire, but close enough never to leave its warmth, nor Vessa from his sight.

     “Open your mouth.”

     Vessa’s voice was light as I felt her hand reach into her pocket.

     My lips parted, never asking why, only doing what she asked.

     I’d kill to see her smile like this. Endless fucking times.

     I looked into her violet eyes and held them, pressing my palm against her back as she slipped something minty into my mouth. Her fingertips were cold. The slight drag down my bottom lip electrified the air so completely that my heart nearly leapt.

     She watched my tongue as I dragged it across my lower lip where she’d just touched, pulling in the piece of chewing gum as I smirked and began to chew, flashing her a canine.

     “Your breath smells like blood,” she reminded me, smiling faintly as she drew her hands back against her chest.

     “And you think your hands don’t?” I purred. She could wash them for eternity, and I’d always smell the scent.

     “I’m not like you, bird. I’m not keen on the taste.”

     My mouth twitched into a grin.

     “Well, maybe you will be… someday.”

     My voice was low, and being tired meant I’d grow careless with my words. There was a small seed of dread that I’d end the night with her jabbing her dagger into my side, but she just stared at me, blinking. There was no telling where her thoughts were running.

     As if she’d suddenly felt me plucking at the edges of our bond.

     Her eyes widened and her pulse raced.

     I brushed my knuckles softly across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear, my hand grazing the tip.

     We were close.

     Too close.

     I edged closer.

     How I longed to brush my lips across hers and devour her mouth with mine.

     But I kissed her forehead instead.

     I’d hate myself for it later.

     “How do you know the storms won’t reach us?” Vessa asked.

     The moment gone, lost to more thunder rumbling in the distance.

     I looked down into her glowing violet eyes. The way her freckles shone just like her hands, that extra piece of her that made her special from the rest. It was deadly being her, just as deadly as it was to be beside her.

     I was fucked either way.

     “I just do,” I replied.

     She hummed, her eyes fluttering softly. She listened to the rise and fall of my chest, the sound making her eyes grow weary as they slowly closed again. She finally gave in, resting her head against my chest and curling against me. She drew her hands against her chest, making fists.

     That’s how I knew she was finally ready to sleep.

     She had always held her hands there.

     The absence of where her sister once slept many years ago.

     Vessa’s boots brushed my calves, but I didn’t mind if the soles were dirty. We’d grown accustomed to sleeping in our shoes.           Rarely did we ever take them off. Her front was as cold as ice. I never understood how she could get so cold in weather like this. I could only assume it was another reason she needed her tonic.

     “You didn’t drink your tonic today,” I reminded her, knowing she wouldn’t answer.

     So fucking stubborn.

     I wrapped the blanket around us and settled into my pillow, my cheek resting atop her head. Our breathing filled the night.         When her heart was calm, so was mine, but sleep would only come for her.

     “Do you remember the stories some of the elders used to tell us before bed?” Her soft voice fanned across my chest as she lazily played with the straps of my suspenders.

     I chuckled. “How can I forget?”

     Though Vessa was a warrior, the child at her core still trembled at the legend. It was that curiosity in her that kept her eyes wide open to the things she feared most.

     “Within the storms hides a posse of undead souls. Legends say those cowboys ride during each summer solstice. They said this is where many worlds can collide, connected in secret places. We can see their electrifying silhouettes charging through the storms. Once guardians of the goddesses, they used their nai, promising to always keep them dry, but it is the sadness that follows them. That is the rain, made of their tears from the many souls they’ve taken to keep the goddesses happy.”

     Vessa hummed. “Do you think their souls are really made of lightning?”

     I’d seen a few drawings of them before, the way blue light made up every vein in their bodies. It never explained why their horses were the same. I could only assume it was the connection they shared. Which was something Vessa and her father never did. They never named their horses. I think it was due to too much loss.

     The more you know, the more you hurt. End’s Wrath’s words.

     As I’d watched him sleep for many years, I could understand why he felt that way.

     “Why? Do you think one of those cowboys is going to suddenly appear from the storm and sweep you off your feet?” I smirked lazily.

     She flicked my suspender strap against my chest and laughed. The sound was loud enough to make End’s Wrath snort before he groaned in his sleep.

     We snickered.

     “I hope that hurt,” she teased.

     I chuckled, still hanging on to that bite in her tone even though sleep was only minutes away. Something clung to the air, a sorrow just out of reach. I tugged on a soft strand of her hair and smiled down at her. She looked up at me with big, almond-shaped eyes.

     “Only you can hurt me most.” I purred.

     I wasn’t sure how long we’d stared at one another after I said that. Between listening to End’s Wrath sleep and the storms drawing nearer, we’d both fallen asleep in the middle of the desert.

 

The bird often spoke beautiful, soothing lies to his moon to ease her bating gleam. The bird loved the moon so much that when the storms came, his wings expanded into the night, spreading wide enough to shield the moon and her darkest shadow from the rain, keeping them dry and well hidden. It was an illusion, keeping the outside world away so the three of them may sleep.

On the outskirts of that storm, a posse of legends with electrifying forces silently rode through on horseback, their eyes never finding what the bird hid beneath his wings, for if they did, the moon, shadow, and bird would drown, becoming part of those drifting storms.

If the moon only knew how much the bird loved her light.

Both love and pain could exist in any realm, but it is the extension of one’s heart that can surpass time and maybe hold it still so the moon can shine bright and sleep.