Zia…

---

Her eyelids lost the battle to block out the onslaught of pinpricks of light. Zia resisted the tug of wakefulness that pulled at her slumber. She was warm and comfy. More comfortable than she’d been in a long time.

Languid and long, the cat-like stretch that took over her body didn’t help her resolve to stay asleep. Instead, it fueled her body with enough energy to finish the journey to full wakefulness. Stiff and sore, she balled up in the fetal position to resume blissful repose. Her eyes did their own thing and fluttered open.

Points of brightness peeked in from spaces in a canopy of golden covering. If that wasn’t enough to keep her in confusion on where she was, a masculine arm, ripped with muscle had a loose grip around her waist.

Recollection of her bearings took longer than they should to settle on a feasible story of where she might be. It was if what happened before this moment didn’t exist. That notion died as soon as she attempted to move.

Her body ached. Her mind was fuzzy, and memories of what led her to this point in time might as well be locked behind a citadel. The sight before her offered no help either—because it made no sense.

The effect was like being on the inside of a blanketed fortress, but instead of blankets, the covering was made of strong, long golden feathers that might double as razor sharp blades. Repeated blinking to clear the mirage didn’t work.

The surface she lay on vibrated ever so in rhythmic succession. Low and deep, an audible enigma stroked her ears in tandem with the movement beneath. Where in the hell was she?

Don’t panic. There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this.

Then the sound registered—breathing. Long, even and definitely masculine, Zia heard the deep breaths of slumber from another person.

Another person?

The only one she wanted that breath attached to was Greg. Another tug on her memories confirmed he’d been the last person she’d spoken to last night. He’d beat a path to the outer rooms when it came time to go to bed. Had she sleepwalked to be with him?

Should she try to turn over to confirm her suspicions? Oh, please no. Zia’s heart thumped louder as the idea took form. Could her mind handle confirmation of her greatest fantasy and nightmare?

Zia wanted to be in the arms of Greg. The man behind her, holding on with gentle protection she craved had to be him.

What she couldn’t handle was evidence that: one, she’d come to him in her sleep, and two, these feathers confirmed that he wasn’t completely human. Maybe she still dreamed. Determined to get to the bottom of this puzzle before she woke him up, Zia wiped remnants of sleep out of her eyes. With renewed vigor, she concentrated on the view before her.

Yes, these were definitely feathers. Huge, golden, and oddly strong in appearance like individual shields, she was in a feather cocoon with a male that most likely was Greg!

Unable to stop herself, Zia reached out and poked the wall with her index finger. It moved. The wall of feathers rustled in response. This was some next level strangeness. Tempting fate, her fingertips extended to trace lines down the length of the feathers closest to her.

“That tickles.”

The sound, deep and sleep-laden, startled her enough to coax a hiccup. She froze. What could she do now? That voice was Greg’s. This had to be his bed, his arms, and… his feathers!

“Oh, sorry,” was the craggy whisper that tripped out of her mouth. “I didn’t realize… I mean, I wasn’t sure if, you know…”

The huge lump born of embarrassment and nerves prevented her from saying more. When the loss of the weight from his arm around her waist registered, courage from some hidden pocket of her soul leaped forward.

“No, don’t do that.” Her voice reverberated in the enclosed area of the winged enclave.

“Do what?”

“Remove your arm. I—it was comfortable like that.” The curtain of feathers rustled as if they would retract. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you space to get up. You’re awake, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re hemmed in.”

She needed to keep things as they were. Zia might not be ready to explain or accept the feathers, but she didn’t want to lose this closeness with Greg yet.

“I’m fine like this.” Her voice was too shaky to sell the words completely, but she’d spoken the truth.

“Then how about you turn over so I can see your face.” As if sensing her fear of what other unknown she’d face, he added, “I promise I look like what you’re accustomed to seeing.”

Relief gave her heart a little kick as it flipped and thudded louder and higher in her chest than usual. This close and she was sure he could hear the beats. She had to slow it down and use the time to regain her composure.

Another hiccup tumbled out.

His chuckle was low, throaty, and soothing.

Not sensing danger or anything out of the ordinary besides his body heat and a humongous wing that covered her entire body, Zia turned over. Her eyes were set on tightly shut as the last defense against what she hoped wasn’t something inhuman facing her.

“Open your eyes, please?” His words held a hint of vulnerability Zia hadn’t heard before.

She obeyed.

Eyes of blue that were tired and red greeted her. Before she could catch it, a gasp escaped.

“What happened? Are you all right?” she asked hoping she hadn’t been the cause of his current state.

Instead of answering, he captured her eyes with his and held them for a moment. Zia didn’t fight the deep probe as he looked past her usual presentation of her public persona. She welcomed the examination as if it was the key to meeting him in a sacred space.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” His question was simple and direct, like the man she’d come to know so far.

There was no way she’d flippantly answer him. Memories came in non-sequential order; some clear, some fuzzy and some elusive. Most didn’t make much sense.

“Not much. Do you? Maybe you could help me fill in the blanks? Maybe we could start by you telling me where we are?”

“We’re in the bedroom, on the bed, of course,” he said with such confidence, Zia was thrown off for a moment with how that wasn’t where they’d started.

“Your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Just like him to go back to simple answers. His answer did nothing to satisfy her curiosity, though. How had he come to be in bed with her, spooning and covered in a feather cocoon? One thing she wouldn’t take from it, the feathers made for an interesting way to wake. A bonus was how cozy it was with the two of them in here, sheltered from the outside world.

Another point she’d count as a positive was the right amount of morning light that allowed her to see enough to make out details while in here. Instead of feeling claustrophobic and oxygen-deprived, the effect was that of a secret hiding place made for the two of them.

Within this intimate cocoon of feathers, every movement was exaggerated. The overall sensation was that of peace. When she stopped to take a second to process and connect with her body, Zia realized that this sensation happening might be what peace and safety felt like.

“What’s the smile for?” He hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“Oh, didn’t realize I was smiling.” Her hand traced the outline of her mouth in discovery. She wanted to laugh again when she recognized her habit of checking for gross crud at the corners of her mouth in the mornings. Thankful there was none detected, she did remember to cover her mouth as she spoke again. “I smiled because I feel… safe.”

Safe—that word must have been the word of the day for how Greg’s expression morphed from extreme concern to relief.

“Zia?”

“Yes?” The reply came out muffled through her hand covering her mouth.

“Why do you have your hand over your mouth?”

Her laugh was unhindered by hand or self-restraint. “Oh, you know, because—wicked morning breath.” For the first time, she didn’t feel the driving need to be perfect or show flawless presentation.

The masculine hand that gently grabbed her wrist and moved it back down to her side was hot to the touch but almost medicinal in its contact.

“Like I said, because, morning breath.”

“Zia, that’s the least of my concerns.”

“But you didn’t say I didn’t have it. Oddly enough, you don’t seem to have that issue,” she said taking in a deep breath. The air of the intimate space was filled with a delicious spicy masculine scent.

“I’m serious. You need to focus and tell me what you remember from last night.”

She didn’t like his tone. Not that it was harsh, just no-nonsense. Tingles infused her cheeks, and her nose began to itch as the unconscious fear response took over. Her muscles had prepared to make a dash for it when his arm looped around her waist in time to stop her retreat.

Greg said nothing as blue eyes held her captive. Too close to do anything but face him or shut out the world, like the coward she was, Zia shut her eyes tight and prayed for invisibility.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m praying.”

“Praying for what?”

“To disappear.”

“Why?”

“Why? Oh, maybe because you’re freaking me out. Can’t you tell I haven’t a clue what happened last night? I’m doing what I can to stay chill about waking up to giant bird feathers on steroids.”

“They’re more like eagle feathers—on steroids.”

“But, they’re feathers! Who does that? It’s like waking up in the arms of a battle angel!” The outburst came from out of nowhere.

Why was she yelling? It took a moment for the weight of his hand rubbing her shoulder to register. When it did, calm spread from that point of contact to overtake her trembling body.

“My apologies, you’ve been through a lot. Close your eyes to give me a few moments to leave. I don’t want to cause you anymore shock.”

That was it. Her resolve snapped. Perfunctory etiquette flew by the wayside as her body took over. Before Zia’s mind could catch-up, she’d pounced and had the golden giant on his back and straddled. Invigorating pulses of excitement pushed her stiff soreness to the distance of her mind.

Words that were raw and primal with vast emotion flew out as she watched as if from a distance. “Don’t you leave me. Not again, not ever. Do you hear me?”

Surprise from Greg gave her a slight thrill. The satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who could be in control of their situation fanned the flames of her boldness.

“Answer me.” Zia didn’t know why these words were the ones to take control of her faculties and cause her to become brazen, but she’d run with them.

Startle continued to render Greg mute as she positioned her knees on either side of his torso. When he winced in pain, she rose up to put more weight on her knees.

“Greg, what’s wrong?” Her voice trembled a bit with too much concern to hide her reaction to his depleted state.

Graveled and hoarse, his voice scraped against her heart. “Your knees are digging into my wings. Not usually this sensitive, but I’ve not been at full strength of late.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she was quick to dislodge herself to move far enough away to clear the wing closest to her. Even folded, it took up a great amount of space on this side of the bed. “Don’t know why I thought my fat ass could sit on you like that. Please for—”

“Stop that, Zia.” His words were solemn and full of command. “Don’t ever degrade yourself like that again. Your weight is fine. It’s me. I said it before. I haven’t been at full capacity of late. Last night took more out of me than I thought.”

“Last night?” Zia decided to skip over his rebuke of her previous statement. Something happened last night that made her stomach lurch in pain born of compassion or shared agony. “Greg, please, tell me what happened? Seems like something serious went down.” Then courage bounded forward to refine her request. She locked eyes with him to accentuate how much she needed him to give her more details. “Did I have anything to do with your current state?”

She observed in fascination as his face moved from pain to compassion. In true Greg fashion, he took his time as if auditioning each word he’d use before speaking.

Patience bloomed and took over her usual reaction of irritation. Now that she’d come to understand his ways a little more, Zia was way more chill. His introspective ways weren’t a reflection on anything she’d done. He was just a thoughtful dude of fewer words than most.

“Zia, what I’m about to say might not make much sense. All I ask is that you allow me to finish before you ask questions or tune out. Hear me out, and then we can work through your reactions together.”

“Oh hell, please don’t tell me I went all Misery on you?”

“Misery? Like the movie?”

“Yeah.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You know, standing over you and staring like a lunatic.” She searched his face to see recognition flare. When it didn’t, frustration that he didn’t follow her movie reference drove her to speak faster. “Greg, come on and cut to the chase. Did I sleepwalk enough to make you keep me in bed with the feather cocoon? I know I’ve had some wild dreams that have gotten worse in the last few days, but if I acted like a cuckoo spill it. Get it out so I can die of mortification now and get it over with.”

She had to take a breath after that fast rumble of words. That’s when she saw it. Greg was hurt. Deep gashes that were new enough to show the beginning of scabs ran down his side.

“Oh my God, what happened to you?” Not waiting for his reply, she came closer to examine. In a vain attempt to hide his injuries, Greg brought his large hand up to cover some of the wounds. “Move your hands and let me see!” Shooing his hand away, she needed to get closer without causing more injury. “And, could you do something about your wings? I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Yes, it might take me a minute.”

She didn’t like how debilitated he still sounded. Greg moved slow and pained as he attempted to rise to a sitting position. His wings were massive and majestic to behold. Conflicting desires to assist, marvel, and cry rendered her an impotent observer. Zia needed to do something to make him better. Strong pangs of pain lanced her heart as she watched him struggle to sit up.

Miss Connie might have been right about Greg’s health. Watching him struggle like this tore at her heart. That old lady had been right about a few things, why not test out this theory of hers?

Zia might be an important element in helping him get better. How remained a mystery, but new determination to find the way urged her into action. Summoning up the courage to demand he hear her, she said, “You don’t have to struggle like this. I can help.”

“I don’t want to impose on you and cause you injury. I’m much heavier than I look,” he said through grunts. The humor he attempted to infuse in the last part fell flat as Zia saw how depleted he was.

“Let me help.”

“No, I’m too heavy,” Greg said as he continued to lean on his elbow, looking tired and drained. “The weight of my wings alone would crush you. Stay put and give me a moment. You’re the one I don’t want hurt.”

He fell back onto the bed. The impact was enough to make his face contort with pain. It was too much to see him like this. No, this wouldn’t do. Zia had to help. Confirmation that she could rooted itself deep in her conviction.

“Greg, look at you. I can help. Let me.”

He ignored her and continued to strain to gain enough momentum to conquer his resumed supine position.

Deep in her core, stirrings to touch him pressed hard to move her hand. When he propped an elbow on the bed to gain more strength, the entirety of her body became magnetized to move closer. The desire to touch him came on so strong, she itched. Zia didn’t question the need.

Her giant battle angel was hurt, and in so much pain it hurt her.

“To hell with what you say,” she caught herself saying.

She avoided pinning his wing under her body and pushed him to the bed. Led by a force of knowing, Zia positioned herself in a way to lay her head and her hands on his chest. When the strong thump of his heartbeat reached her ears, she closed her eyes and willed his healing with everything within. Soon her lips moved as she whispered prayers for healing to come to him now.

“Please, Mother Mary, hear my prayers for your precious son to heal Greg.” Zia wasn’t much on prayers, novenas or other rituals of the Church, but she wasn’t above asking for all the help she could get in times of need.

First, the tingling started. When her body buzzed as if it were a vibrator, Zia knew this wasn’t normal. Her head shot up to look at Greg. His eyes were closed. That chiseled face of his wore an expression of relief and calm. Without question, she knew her buzzing influenced his recovery.

Emboldened by the phenomenon, she pushed his arms and wings away from his sides. When she came back to kneel by his side, overwhelmed to cover as much of his body with her own drove her next move.

Zia crawled up and lay on top of his body. His eyes remained closed, and he said nothing. In the recesses of her mind was a biblical story of a prophet who did something similar to a dead child to bring him back to life. She was no prophet, but she’d do whatever it took to nurse her giant battle angel back to health.

Not able to form the cohesive story to explain it, but Zia knew she was in some way the cause of his ailment. Now, she’d do what it took to make amends for that. She continued to lay on top of him not touching near as much of Greg as she would have like. Her prayers continued to roll out of her for healing, restoration, and repair.

Remembering to be as gentle as possible, Zia placed her hands on his sides. As she’d thought, the wounds were on both sides of his torso. She ran her hands with the lightest touch she could muster back and forth the length of the wounds. Each pass, she thanked Mother Mary for healing. Greg remained still, as if in deep concentration, but not sleep.

Without words, she reckoned he gave her control to do as she saw fit. He made no complaints. After a while of doing what she could to pray for and minister to his body, she swore surges of power moved through her into his body.

“Can you feel that?” she finally asked.

“Yes, and it feels amazing.”

Shocked that the sensations weren’t a figment of her imagination, Zia, stayed the course. She continued to lay here on top of her golden giant who was her battle angel. Sensations came in waves. They progressed to an intensity strong enough to accept as tangible.

At the point when the power would connect from her body to his, it felt like the energy attempted to merge them. It was a symbiotic connection. The idea of that didn’t faze or frighten her. Zia stayed put as the power increased. She knew on a level she couldn’t explain or care that this was what she had to do for him. No, scratch that—for them.

“Zia, thank you.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear in his chest. “I’m well enough to sit up and retract my wings.”

“Oh, all right then. Give me a sec to get off of you.”

“Who said I wanted you to move? I was simply giving you a heads up that I wished to move us into a sitting position.”

Zings of excitement bounced around inside. Greg wasn’t running away from her. Not wanting to spoil the moment or change his mind, she clammed up.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked.

She gave a quick nod and kept her head plastered on his chest.

Without another word the mountain of muscle beneath her moved with a fluid grace Zia didn’t know Greg possessed. Too entranced with the feel of his skin against her face and neck, Zia had to remember to breathe as he maneuvered to the upright position.

The air took on a magical quality that was difficult to describe with mere words. Clad in a pair of her fancy satin PJs used for “company,” Zia wished she could strip to enjoy the kiss of the magical air on every inch of her body. Wherever her skin was exposed to the air on her face, neck, arms, hands, ankles, and feet, the air caressed and wrapped around like silken bliss. She wanted to ride this wave of what felt like the best massage forever.

He gave no directions for her to do anything. Instead, he took great care to keep her close as he sat up and pushed back to rest his back against the headboard of the bed. It wasn’t until then she realized his wings were gone. A brief bout of sadness tried to impinge on her mood at the thought of the wings disappearing. Sure, she’d been the one to ask for him to put them away, but there was something about them that she loved and needed to see.

She remained quiet as strong arms positioned her body to sit in the dip of his lap he made when his legs crossed. Unable to stop herself, Zia snuggled in. When his arms closed around her to create that sense of safety she’d grown to thirst for, a small sigh escaped.

Able to release enough tension to think somewhat coherently, her thoughts circled back around to the question at hand. Without pretense, she asked, “Now that we’re settled, what were you going to tell me about last night?”