Page 100 of Inextricably Tied

She pushes up from the bed. Flint and Agony are lost in each other, lips melding as Flint clutches Agony closer. There’s a cinch in Flint’s brows, but Agony’s shadows wrap around him, engulfing them both until Flint releases the worry. Until he gives himself over to it. Until he chases Agony’s mouth as hopelessly as he wants to.

Then they see Harbinger. They move like the same being, same body, same desperate pulse thudding through them. Flint’s hand closes around Harbinger’s throat as Agony pulls her in, drawing her up to meet them. Against her skin, shadows lace between Flint’s fingers, sending her eyes fluttering shut.

They’re both so gentle with her life in their hands. That’s the only place she wants it. The place she knows it’s safest. The place she trusts to hold her breath more than her own lungs.

Flint kisses them both like he wants this. Wants them. Agony doesn’t flinch from the demand of his mouth, an assurance that he’ll meet Flint’s every expectation. And Harbinger surrenders to it, giving all she can, promises merging between their lips. It’s sacred and slick and hungry, until she can’t tell them apart. Until there’s nothing but them.

THIRTY-SIX

Flint

They leave the Timber compound when the sun peeks over the horizon, SUV jostling toward the distant crop of mountains. The vehicle creaks and sighs over the rocky terrain, but the inside of the car is comfortable in a way that it hasn’t been before.

Harbinger’s helmet rests on the floorboard, scenery passing out the window as she watches with a dreamy smile. Flint’s thoughts drift back to the way Agony looked at him last night. What Agony asked for. How Flint reached for him without hesitation, and how Harbinger fit perfectly between them…

The SUV dips into a pothole. Flint tightens his grip around the steering wheel. In the rearview, Agony’s coy smile does more to Flint’s stomach than the road’s hills and valleys.

After a few hours, they begin their ascent through the mountains. The dirt roads become less pronounced the higher they climb through the trees.

“No wonder they don’t have visitors,” Agony mutters. He rolls down his window, resting his chin on his forearm and searching the ground beneath them. “Did you do something to the tires?”

Flint tenses. “What do you mean?”

“They look a little flappy. Something’s grinding out here.” Agony points toward the front driver’s side tire. “Think it’s that one.” Then he peers at the back wheel. “Oh, that one too.”

Flint eases the car toward the side of the road and climbs out to inspect the tires. Harbinger leans out the driver’s side window, next to Agony in the back.

“Flat. Both of them.” Flint kicks a limp tire with his foot. “Should have known better than to take a chance off-road. We should have waited for the Timbers to bring us.”

“What now?”

Flint turns a discerning eye to the sky. Despite the complication, the sun is shining, a cool breeze rustling against his back. “We should be close enough to fly, but without taking the roads, I’m not sure exactly where we’re headed.”

“You carry Harbinger, then.” Agony slips out the window, disappearing between pools of shadows before he reappears. “I’ll start that way.” He points toward the jagged rock faces in the distance, a lush forest expanding beneath it. “You two fly in the other direction, and Harbinger and I will see if we spot anything familiar.”

“Patch of charred earth.” Harbinger stuffs her helmet under her arm and pushes open the door. “How hard can it be?”

Flint lifts Harbinger in his arms, gaze lingering on Agony. “Use the connection if you need to get in touch.”

Agony melts back into the shadows, but not before appearing between them, tickling with his tendrils before he darts away.

“Insufferable,” Flint grumbles fondly. Harbinger crosses her ankles where they drape over his elbow.

“You’re like one of those dads who says they don’t want a pet before they end up doting on it.”

Her laughter turns to a squeal as Flint takes flight, soaring up toward the mountains.

Finding anything recognizable is more difficult than they thought. Tree lines roll over hills between the base of the mountains, and after a while, Flint’s wings ache from the effort. Harbinger inclines her head to see the ground below them.

“Look: Broadleaf compound.” Between the trees, there’s a clearing where smoke curls from a chimney. “We can break and talk to them.”

The pack house is a lot smaller than the Timbers’, a three-story cabin surrounded by muddy tire tracks on an open field. Harbinger dons her helmet once they land, flipping her visor up as Flint knocks and steps back off the porch. When the door opens, a birdlike woman wipes claws on an apron, adjusting blue feathers back on her head.

“Pardon our intrusion.” Flint gestures beside him. “I’m Flint, and this is Harbinger. We’re coming from Timber territory. Our car broke down a few miles away, but Lev told us Diction might be able to help us with an investigation.”

“An investigation?” The woman folds her arms across her chest. “About what?”

“No one’s in any danger,” Flint assures her. “But we think an outsider may have used a part of your territory to hide something.”