his warm hand runs over the upper ridge of my wings. He strokes them the same way he strokes the rest of my flesh, the touch oddly erotic. “They’re breathtaking, you know,” he says, his fingers skimming over my feathers. “Just one more tempting thing about my enchantress.” “Enchantress?” The question slips out before I remind myself he’s supposed to be receiving my ire right now. “That’s what fairies have started to call you—an enchantress.”
