We rejoined Kol, his eyes roaming between Mikal and me. Putting my business voice back on, I said in a quick breath, “Can you just tell us about Maxine the night she came here. Was she behaving odd in any way?”
Hands in pockets, a little stiffer than before, Mikal answered evenly. “No. She and Bennett had a few drinks, and she told him she wanted to go to the games. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not for Maxine anyway.”
“Why not for Maxine?”
“She was a little reckless, always looking for a wilder party or bigger thrill.”
“Sort of fearless?” I asked.
“Yeah. That was Maxine.”
Kol and I shared a swift glance.
“Thanks, Mikal.” I hugged him goodbye. “Let’s go,” I mumbled to Kol, moving ahead of him toward the stairs.
It was a crush when we walked in. Now it was unbearable. I wondered if Kol would struggle through the crammed club with his wings. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d fallen a few paces back, some giggling girls between us.
The crowd pushed me close to that group of guys I used to avoid like the plague. Assholes, every one of them.
“She’s with the bat,” one slurred in his drunkenness.
“Just like her sister. A Morgon whore.” They chuckled together at my expense. Nothing I hadn’t heard whispered behind my back a hundred times in the last five years since my sister married Lucius.
Ignoring them, I pushed on when a hand squeezed my ass. I spun to knock the guy off, only to find Kol with his hand around the ass-grabber’s throat, bending him backward over the bar.
“Don’t.” I shuddered at Kol’s voice, thick and gravelly, full of the dragon. The dude’s friends backed off several feet, wide-eyed and speechless. Cowards, every one of them. They disgusted me. Kol’s wings flared halfway, a hostile stance threatening violence. His jaw clenched, and I knew he was restraining himself.
With a lightning-swift move, he released the guy, who had actually pissed his pants. A wet stain was prominent on his crotch. If I wasn’t stunned stupid, I’d have some snarky comeback for the guy, but Kol pushed me toward the exit before I could even gather my thoughts. Glued to my back, he kept a hand on my waist, propelling me forward. Fear skittered across the faces of those who caught sight of the Morgon looming behind me, moving with purpose. Once on the street, he gripped my wrist and tugged me into an alley. Dropping his hold as soon as we were in shadow, he fumbled in his jacket for something.
His eyes glittered so bright, I decided not to comment on his unnecessary machismo. Anger rippled off him in electric waves. He unrolled something. Buckles rattled.
“What makes a Morgon’s dragon come to the surface like that?”
His movements were sharp and swift. He ignored me as he continued to fumble with straps of some kind. Shoulders taut, hands focused on unraveling whatever it was he held, he answered, his voice rattling, “Intense emotion. Anger. Sorrow. Desire.” His glowing gaze finally met mine, the dark swallowing all else.
I gestured toward his hands.“What’s that?”
“A flying harness. We’re going to see Petrus tonight. Now.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
One giant step toward me. Too close. I stepped back by instinct.
“You scared, Kittycat.”
Definitely a challenge. Eyes narrowing, I refused to back up as he inched closer. Hell yes, I was scared. I’d never been flying with a Morgon. The idea of hurtling through the air with only a few straps between me and death petrified me. My hands on my hips, I tried to remain calm. “Are you a good flier?”
“The best.” He lifted and unfolded his wings partway, a magnificent display.
“Modest, too, I see.”
“Just stating a fact.”
He snapped a length of the leather strap between his hands. I eyed them as if they were slithering vipers.
His gaze flicked to mine. “You don’t like giving up control, do you?”
“No. I’m not fond of it.”
“You’re afraid.”
I couldn’t deny it. And I wasn’t a liar, so I said nothing at all. His voice gentled. “Never let fear lead you. Not in anything.” He moved closer, his intense energy lapping against me. “Just let go.” My heart drummed an erratic beat. He gestured with one finger. “Turn around.”
“What are you going to do?”
When Kol grinned, it looked unnatural but at the same time mesmerizing. “I’m going to help you step into the harness before I strap it to myself.”
“I don’t think I want you strapped behind me.” My stomach flip-flopped at the thought of him standing so close.
His smile turned sheer wicked as if he could read my thoughts. “You could be strapped facing me, and that would be just fine by me.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what.”
“Using your”—I waved a hand at his chest—“manliness to try and intimidate me.”
“Is it working?”
I wanted to say no, to lie to him, but my mouth wouldn’t move. All I could do was consider how being strapped to this man might be worth facing my fear of flying. I spun around before he could read anything else on my face. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
“See?” Right over my shoulder, warm breath brushed my ear. “Not so hard, now is it? Just let go of your fear.”
It wasn’t just hard, it was downright impossible. My pulse raced as his arms bracketed my waist, rejoining in front of my torso, leather straps in hand. But this wasn’t all from fear. Heightened anticipation of rocketing through the sky, strapped to Kol, made something else thrum wonderfully through my veins. An excitement that verged on insanity.
“Step in.”
I stepped both legs into the leather harness and waited as he tightened the thick belt at my waist, then cinched the straps that criss-crossed my breasts. Sweat broke out on my neck and back as I listened to him buckle the part of the harness meant for the Morgon. Finally, he clipped the locking hooks on either side of his waist to the rings at mine, cinching the wrap-around leather strap one more time, pulling my body firmly against him. The back of my body was molded to the front of his. I hadn’t been this close to a man in such an intimate way in quite a long time. Perhaps that’s why my heartbeat skittered ahead.
“Where do I hold on? I have to hold on to something.”
A rumbling chuckle vibrated from his chest to my back. He curled his hands around mine, engulfing them, and forcibly hooked my fingers around the straps at my chest.
“Is that better?”
“No.” My breathing quickened. I was about to be flying through the air. This was insane.
“Just let go, Kittycat. I’ve got you.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
He curved both his arms around my abdomen, holding me tight. I felt his knees bend, mine bending with him. The snapping whip of his wings as they flared out stirred the air around us. A pulse of wind beat once right before lift-off. Looking up into the starry sky, I held my breath.
“Just let go,” I murmured to myself the second before my feet left the ground.
Funny thing about fear. When you cling to it, the fear grows exponentially, a monster morphing into a suffocating mass. But when you face it head-on, conquering the beast before it swallows you whole, you find there was nothing there to fear at all. The chains break, and the whole world feels lighter than ever before.
Chapter 8
For several seconds, I couldn’t even suck air into my lungs as we climbed higher and higher into the night sky.
“Breathe,” Kol commanded close to my ear.
I inhaled, taking in the deep black above us behind a canvas of glittering stars. The buildings below grew smaller, their lights like pinpricks of candlelight. As Kol winged north of the city into the wilderness, the heaviness of the dark wrapped us in a cool embrace. At this height, he beat his wings little, letting us soar on a smooth, even path, skimming above the clouds. A
half-moon shimmered a radiant glow on the thin blanket of vapor beneath us.
“What do you think?” he asked, his arms still braced around me.
My hands and face stung from the icy wind. Other than that, I was enthralled. Completely and utterly besotted with the sensation of drifting between earth and sky.
“It’s cold,” I managed to chatter between my teeth, “but it’s beautiful.”
“Next time, wear gloves and a thicker coat.”
As if he’d given me any prior notice. And assuming there would be a next time. “Where does P-Petrus live?”
“East of Drakos. I’m taking you on a route to avoid other Morgons.” He angled right, my hair flying across my face. He removed one arm from my waist and swept my hair aside, his fingers grazing the back of my neck. I tensed at his touch.
“Pull your hair back in the future. I keep getting a mouthful.”
His other arm came back around my waist.
“Why must you hold me so tight?”
His arms left me. My weight dropped, straining against the harness straps. I sucked in a sudden breath, feeling as if I might fall, my fears slamming back into place.
His hands rested lightly on my hips. “I thought it might make you feel more secure. But if you prefer this—”
“No.” I swallowed my pride. “It was better before.”
“You’re sure?”
I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes, damn it! Please, Kol.”
His hands slid back around my waist, his arms bracing me back against the heat of him.
“Please.” The way his voice rumbled against my ear made me shiver. More than I already was from the cold. “Now that sounds nice coming from you.”
“Oh, shut up. How much farther?”
He banked hard to the left. I yelped.
“Not far now. Keep quiet. Voices carry up here in the air.”
The humor had left him. He became rigid, muscles taut, as we moved below the cloud cover. What would happen if a human was found in the Drakos territory? Were we so hated that they’d try to harm me? I wanted to ask, but didn’t dare open my mouth after his warning.
We flew over a dense woodland on the outskirts of a mountainous region. He whispered in my ear as if knowing my curiosity. “We’re in the foothills of the Feygreir Mountains. That’s Singing Wind Wood below us.”
Singing Wind Wood! I’d learned so much about it in a class on Morgon fables and legends. Stories claimed magic lived in those woods. Supernatural animals roamed the forest, ethereal voices carried on the wind, mystical energy lived in the very trees. All fairytales and rumors, but I’d always wanted to find out if there was any truth to the legends.
A small clearing appeared out of the gloom. Kol skimmed above the treetops, the naked limbs stark and shining like bone under the moonlight, like spidery fingers webbing the forest in. As he beat his wings for a gentle landing, a cabin with a square window of warm light loomed before us.
It was an odd sensation, weighty, to be back on solid ground. I even felt a pang of regret as Kol busily unbuckled and removed the straps, his body heat vanishing as well.
“A cabin on the ground. Strange place for a Morgon to live.”
Morgons liked to live closer to the sky. And now I knew why.
“Petrus lives here for the privacy. Not many Morgons venture into Singing Wind Wood. And even fewer search for dwellings on the earth floor.
“I hope you warned Petrus we were coming at such an hour,” I said, stepping out of the harness. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”
My foot snagged on a strap, nearly tumbling me to the ground. Kol caught me by the waist and righted me so that I faced him. My hands gripped his biceps for support. A shimmer of blue-silver met my gaze.
“Petrus is the eccentric sort. He keeps no time. And we’re friends. He won’t mind.” Kol still held my waist in a tight grip, not yet releasing me.
“And you believe he has some information to help us.” My voice came out as a breathy whisper.
“He’s the oldest historian living. If anyone has information we need, it’s him.”
He studied me a few seconds longer. I waited, unable to break the tension-infused moment by pulling away. Finally, loosening his hold, he let me go with a frown and then stepped toward the door before knocking with three sharp wraps. A fumbling and shuffling noise came from the other side of the wooden door, and it burst open.
A white-haired, white-winged Morgon stood there in brown homespun robes. He was of the Icewing clan, the only clan with such wings. My sister had confided in me that the Icewing clan had some kind of healing powers, but she hadn’t elaborated. It was one of their clan who had healed a wound on her shoulder. The mark left behind was a radiant scar of an iridescent, scale-like pattern. I glanced at the reddened scar streaking across Kol’s face, wondering why it didn’t bear the healing mark of an Icewing.
Petrus had a kind face, wrinkles marking his brow and mouth, and twinkling gray eyes. He stood eye-level with me, which meant he was short by Morgon standards.
“Kol Moonring. What a peculiar surprise. Come in.”
“I’ve brought a friend.”
“I see that.” His eyes swiveled, taking me in. “A lovely, lovely friend. Please. Come in.”
The cabin was one large room, smelling of old parchment and heady spices. A fire crackled in a smallish hearth, soot stained at the base. A six-tiered candelabrum set on a desk piled with papers. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed with books lined one wall. On the side of the fireplace stood a black, wood-burning stove, and in the far corner was a lumpy mattress piled with wool blankets, which I assumed was his bed. To say I felt as if I’d stepped back in time was an understatement. I knew that Morgons preferred natural elements like fire to electric lighting and stone to steel buildings. Something about their beasts was drawn to the natural. Petrus had immersed himself in the most comfortable Morgon abode I could possibly imagine.
“Have a seat.” He waved to a small couch, only enough room for two people. Petrus picked up a poker and stoked the fire. A log shifted and spit up sparks as I sat on the small sofa, nearly jumping right out of my skin when a cat-like creature leaped from the cushion to the arm rest. It was feline, no doubt, but I’d never seen a domestic cat like this before. Its legs were abnormally long, it’s ears big and pointed, its tail a short stub. With silver and black stripes, its orange-gold eyes glowed like fire coals in the gloom.
“Oh, don’t mind Seerie. She’s a little witch, but she won’t bite.”
Seerie aimed her golden gaze on me as I sat on the low-back sofa—made to accommodate Morgon wings. Kol took the seat next to me, his thighs brushing against mine. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to push over. We crammed in together. It didn’t seem to bother him, so I pretended it didn’t bother me.
“I’ve never seen a domestic cat like her before.”
“Oh, no. You never would. And don’t let her hear you calling her domestic.” He chuckled again. “No one owns her. If anything, she owns me.”
“She’s a necrominx, isn’t she? I’ve read about them, but I’ve never seen one.”
“Yes, yes. Only found here within Singing Wind Wood. I heard one clan tried to transport some of them to Cloven and domesticate them. Didn’t work. They disappeared and returned here.” Seerie began licking her paws, ignoring us with definite feline arrogance. “Now then, Kol. Please introduce our visitor.”
“This is Moira Cade of the Gladium Province.”
He took his seat in a tattered leather chair, angling away from the fire to face us.
“Well, now. The youngest daughter of Pritchard Cade.”
I started in surprise. He chuckled. The sound was infectious. I had to smile with him.
“I know all about your family, dear heart.”
Kol leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together. One of his wings brushed my back. I glanced at him, wondering i
f this intimate touch was just an accident. He didn’t meet my gaze.
“We came to find out about—”
“Devlin Wood. Yes, I know. I’ve been waiting for you to come and visit, dear boy.”
Dear boy? How old was this guy? And how did he know Kol would come? Kol didn’t seem surprised at all. Weird.
“So,” I added, “you know about the women. The murders.”
“I do live in remote isolation, but I keep apprised of the world. What kind of historian would I be otherwise?”
He chuckled as Seerie finished her bathing and leaped across my lap onto Kol’s. She curled into a ball and purred in a low hum. Kol’s large hand stroked over her delicate head and neck in a steady rhythm. His gaze caught mine. One side of his mouth lifted.
“What can I say?” He shrugged one shoulder, his wing grazing me again along the spine. I shivered.
“The kitties like me.” He brushed his hand from her crown, down her neck, along her spine and tail. “Especially the wild ones.”
Blushing heat filled my cheeks. Before I lost all reason and started fantasizing about those hands stroking down my own spine, I flipped my attention back to Petrus whose eyes had glazed in thought.
I cleared my throat. “Tell me about Devlin Wood, if you don’t mind.”
He popped up at the sound of a rising whistle. “Would you like some tea? I nearly forgot about it when you two came in.”
I nodded. He fixed two cups and handed me one. I glanced at Kol.
“Oh, Kol doesn’t care for tea,” Petrus explained. Kol’s hand made slow, lazy strokes over Seerie’s coat, a broad hand that covered her entirely. Her purring grew louder, her orange eyes drooping to tiny slits.
“Devlin Wood has a long history of witchcraft,” said Petrus, settling into his squeaky leather chair, dragging my thoughts away from Kol and his steady hands.
My eyes widened in shock as I drank the minty blend, coughing on a sip. “As in”—I cleared my throat—“as in flying-on-a-broom, cooking-in-a-cauldron witches?”
He chuckled. “Yes, dear heart. Humans believe it the stuff of fairytales and legends, but do not legends always have a grain of truth?”
Waking the Dragon Page 9
