Rock Hard And Wet (BBW Paranormal Romance) (Nymphs Of New York) by Jennifer James Page A
Authors: Jennifer James
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throat with one fast swipe. The wound would
keep Booker down until the aerie came to collect him, but he would heal in
time.
Cutting
off the rest of the grotesques from his mental link sent a spear of pain
through his head, but there was only one he needed to speak with.
“Logan,
brother, where are you?” He forced his injured wing out and leapt into the air, flapping the new
appendages past the pain each movement caused. When he gained the open sky, he
searched the rooftops below until he spotted his twin and Callie. He didn’t
even know when their bond had threaded them together, but she’d seeped into one
of the fissures in his cold stone heart like water into a deep underground
aquifer, creating a hidden secret pool.
If she
died, he knew that water would kill him. It would freeze into ice and shatter
him.
Chapter Eleven
Forced
to leave his brother behind, Theo flew for the ocean. In this instance, he
could thank the aerie for forcing him to survive on its fringes. He’d settled
in Brooklyn, and the proximity of the city to the Atlantic might save Callie.
A dark
shape appeared off to his right, then another. He redirected his course to the
left, only to realize two more grotesques flew there as well. Increasing his
speed was impossible, so he climbed higher, as more of the aerie appeared in
front of him.
Callie’s
slight weight in his paws grew clammier with the altitude; her head lolled to
the side and revealed the terrible wounds at her throat. If she breathed, he
did not know. He blew a warning blast of fire when one of the flanking grotesques
flew too close.
The
rides of Coney Island dotted the landscape below before giving way to the
endless stretch of the ocean. Theo struggled against the winds whipping him,
lashing and shoving him inland. When he gauged that the depth of the water
below was deep enough, he coasted in a slow circle, angled his body so his back
took the brunt of impact, and fell.
He sank
to the bottom with swift finality, the huge mass of his body dragging him to
the sandy bottom in a column of bubbles. Now he had to count on the ocean to
heal her.
A dome comprised
of Poseidon’s magic extended overhead, transmitting blue-tinted light into the
chamber. A small school of fish swam past, their bright yellow sides like
sunlight trapped below water.
Callie
groaned and moved nothing but her eyes. Every inch of her body ached. Her limbs
and torso were battered and sore. Even the silk sheets she rested on chafed at
her skin. Flashes of her last conscious moments in New York peppered her
thoughts, and her hands flew to her throat and belly, checking the flesh there.
Nothing
marred her skin. Not a scar or bump. Nothing. The dress Theo had bought her was
long gone, as were all her bracelets save the one that held her special stone.
Perhaps they’d been ruined by blood. Even though she knew it unlikely, she
clasped her palm over her bicep to see if the jewelry Theo gifted her remained,
but that too had been removed.
She
sniffled and curled into a ball. Curious whales glided by, their enormous eyes
regarded her with cool assessment. She imagined they thought her a pathetic,
weak creature—lying in bed instead of getting on with life. A life she’d clung
to through a terrifying, brutal attack.
She
used her arm to lever herself into a sitting position and maneuvered until her
feet rested on the cool tile floor. She had to find her bauble. The silver and
gold bracelet was her one connection to him. A bereft and impossible longing
trickled in her heart for Theo. He’d rejected her, thrown her away, but still,
she wanted the damn trinket. Pathetic.
But
even more pathetic was the soul deep, forlorn sadness overtaking her at the
loss of the male himself.
She
fingered the hem of her top. At least her clothing was her own. The lightweight
gauzy skirt and top flowed over her, soft as a breath of air.
A low,
rectangular wood and coral table rested against the far wall. The marble top
held an
keep Booker down until the aerie came to collect him, but he would heal in
time.
Cutting
off the rest of the grotesques from his mental link sent a spear of pain
through his head, but there was only one he needed to speak with.
“Logan,
brother, where are you?” He forced his injured wing out and leapt into the air, flapping the new
appendages past the pain each movement caused. When he gained the open sky, he
searched the rooftops below until he spotted his twin and Callie. He didn’t
even know when their bond had threaded them together, but she’d seeped into one
of the fissures in his cold stone heart like water into a deep underground
aquifer, creating a hidden secret pool.
If she
died, he knew that water would kill him. It would freeze into ice and shatter
him.
Chapter Eleven
Forced
to leave his brother behind, Theo flew for the ocean. In this instance, he
could thank the aerie for forcing him to survive on its fringes. He’d settled
in Brooklyn, and the proximity of the city to the Atlantic might save Callie.
A dark
shape appeared off to his right, then another. He redirected his course to the
left, only to realize two more grotesques flew there as well. Increasing his
speed was impossible, so he climbed higher, as more of the aerie appeared in
front of him.
Callie’s
slight weight in his paws grew clammier with the altitude; her head lolled to
the side and revealed the terrible wounds at her throat. If she breathed, he
did not know. He blew a warning blast of fire when one of the flanking grotesques
flew too close.
The
rides of Coney Island dotted the landscape below before giving way to the
endless stretch of the ocean. Theo struggled against the winds whipping him,
lashing and shoving him inland. When he gauged that the depth of the water
below was deep enough, he coasted in a slow circle, angled his body so his back
took the brunt of impact, and fell.
He sank
to the bottom with swift finality, the huge mass of his body dragging him to
the sandy bottom in a column of bubbles. Now he had to count on the ocean to
heal her.
A dome comprised
of Poseidon’s magic extended overhead, transmitting blue-tinted light into the
chamber. A small school of fish swam past, their bright yellow sides like
sunlight trapped below water.
Callie
groaned and moved nothing but her eyes. Every inch of her body ached. Her limbs
and torso were battered and sore. Even the silk sheets she rested on chafed at
her skin. Flashes of her last conscious moments in New York peppered her
thoughts, and her hands flew to her throat and belly, checking the flesh there.
Nothing
marred her skin. Not a scar or bump. Nothing. The dress Theo had bought her was
long gone, as were all her bracelets save the one that held her special stone.
Perhaps they’d been ruined by blood. Even though she knew it unlikely, she
clasped her palm over her bicep to see if the jewelry Theo gifted her remained,
but that too had been removed.
She
sniffled and curled into a ball. Curious whales glided by, their enormous eyes
regarded her with cool assessment. She imagined they thought her a pathetic,
weak creature—lying in bed instead of getting on with life. A life she’d clung
to through a terrifying, brutal attack.
She
used her arm to lever herself into a sitting position and maneuvered until her
feet rested on the cool tile floor. She had to find her bauble. The silver and
gold bracelet was her one connection to him. A bereft and impossible longing
trickled in her heart for Theo. He’d rejected her, thrown her away, but still,
she wanted the damn trinket. Pathetic.
But
even more pathetic was the soul deep, forlorn sadness overtaking her at the
loss of the male himself.
She
fingered the hem of her top. At least her clothing was her own. The lightweight
gauzy skirt and top flowed over her, soft as a breath of air.
A low,
rectangular wood and coral table rested against the far wall. The marble top
held an
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