Wings rustled nearby—not the soft feathers of his wings, but something leathery. Dry. Hunt stiffened, trying to shoot to his feet, but he couldn’t. His ass stayed planted in the chair, though no ties bound him. His booted feet were glued to the black floor. “Who’s there?” The darkness absorbed his voice, muffling it. The leathery wings whispered again, and Hunt twisted his head toward the sound. Moving his head was about the only thing he could manage. “A greater warrior would have freed himself from those bonds by now.” The soft, deep voice slithered over his skin. “Who the fuck are you?”
...more
