“Instead, I reach out and run my hand over his wings. He closes his eyes, like he’s savoring the sensation. Getting up, I circle behind him, studying the silvery skin of them as my hand passes over each talon and joint. Beneath my touch, I feel him shiver. His wings stretch in response, the fine veins of them clearly visible even here in the dim lighting. “I always assumed that fairies had butterfly wings,” I admit. “You’re not wrong,” Des says, his back still to me. “Mine are particularly rare.”
