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I look up in time to see a man in red flannel and a hunting cap coming around the side of the building. I turn back toward the window at the same time that Fitz flies through it, his wings expanding majestically in the afternoon sun.

Holy shit.

In a single second, he swoops down and snatches me up off the ground. He stays low as we fly into the woods, hovering ten feet off the ground instead of going up into the sky where we’ll be seen.

I feel him give a grunt in the back of his throat, and then we’re on our way.

9

I don’t know exactly how long we fly before Fitz slows, pulling his legs under himself so he can land with me still wrapped around him. He gradually comes to a stop, giving me a chance to get my own feet under me.

I glance around, only a little surprised to find that we’re in yet another patch of woods. I’m less surprised that this is where Fitz has brought me and more surprised that Fitz so easily found the spot. As far as I can tell, this section of forest is identical to the one we met in, the one we hid in by the motel.

“Home,” he says, reaching down for my hand and pulling me along. My stomach is in knots. I’m terrified of what I’m going to find when we stop. If it’s some beautiful Yellow-Eyed Teufel woman with wings and a small brood of children, I might puke.

As we walk and I start to take in everything, I realize we’re near the Clearwater Mountains. We came a long way in a short span of time.

Fitz leads me down off a ridge and into a spot against the mountain that’s hidden by tall grass. When we stop and he reaches out to push some heavy brush aside, I realize it’s a cave. A cave, of course! He motions for me to go before him, and I duck in, waiting for him to let the brush go to re-cover the entrance. Inside, it’s dark enough that I have to take out my phone and shine it into the depths.

This is clearly where Fitz lives. There’s a spot where there’s evidence of a fire, a pallet made of a mixture of fabric and flora. A collection of nicknacks is lined against the wall, things that have clearly been left behind in the woods. A book, a sweater, a Barbie, one tennis shoe, like he’s gathering artifacts. I imagine Fitz here, all alone, and I don’t feel the relief I thought I would at finding him without a secret family. Because this is worse. Knowing that he’s been alone, maybe for his whole life, is so much worse.

I turn to find Fitz watching me. He puts up a hand, as if asking me to wait, and then, while I watch, he makes up a fire. He does it so quickly, a skill practiced over many years. I can’t wait until we have the time to stop so that I can ask him about his life here. How old he is, how he came to be here, how long he’s been alone.

But for now, we’ll just have to work with what we’ve got.

Fitz reaches up his hand toward me. When I put my hand in his, he pulls me down to sit beside him next to the fire, and I let him put his arm around me. I drag my bag over and dig out the book.

“Alone?” I ask, gesturing to the empty cave.

“Yes.” A shiver runs through me at hearing his deep voice speak English. I guess he’s picked up a few things. I flip through and try to string together a few words, hoping it still makes sense without any knowledge of conjugation rules.

“Want stay?”

At this, his eyes lift from the book and find mine in the shadows. I have no idea what we should do now. I can’t just leave him here in this cave, but it’s not like he can join me back in my regular life. We have people hunting him now, hunting us. Nothing can go back to the way it was.

Fitz takes the book from my hands and flips through it. One at a time, he says the words he needs as he finds them. “Stay. With. You.”

“I want to stay with you, too,” I whisper. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I pull his face down to mine, and I kiss him.

I don’t know anything about Fitz’s sexual history. I don’t even know if he knows what kissing is, if it’s something his kind does, but he seems to figure it out quick, pressing his mouth to mine slowly, sucking on my lips, nipping at them gently with his teeth.

There's something so intoxicating about the way he tastes. Like tree bark and wet soil. It fills my mouth and my nose and my senses. He slips his hand into my hair, pulls my head back just a little. His tongue comes out. I shiver, sticking my tongue out just enough that we're licking each other more than kissing. I never would have thought that would be a turn-on, but it is in a very big way.

He licks and kisses his way across my jaw until his mouth is at my ear. He says a single word, like a question.

“I don't know what you're saying,” I tell him, the words coming out a whine. I want him so bad. He pulls back and bends to pick up the book I dropped. He hands it to me, says the word again, more insistently. “Okay,” I say. I flip through the book until I find it.

Mate.

According to the dictionary, it's a verb, not a noun. He wants to mate with me.

Holy fuck, that's so hot.

“Yes,” I say, the word little more than a breathy sigh.

We both move at the same time. I move to straddle him, and he moves to pull me on top of him, and even though it would be smart to go slow, I’m so horny for him that I’m trembling. As soon as my legs are wrapped around him, his mouth on mine, I start to grind. His body is hard against mine, all of him made of taut muscle.

“Oh God,” I groan into his mouth.