by Lexi Johnson
He turned, dropping into a crouch, and his body seemed to crack, the skin breaking in a sickening crunch of bone and flesh as he transformed. Within a few breaths, the man had become a giant bird of prey. He lowered himself to the floor, flexing a wing forward and jiggling his bent leg.
So that was how she was supposed to climb onto his back. Before fear and shock could change her mind, Sade stepped onto Haytham’s strangely transformed thigh and swung herself onto his back.
Now Sade understood why the leather ropes had been affixed to his collar. She grabbed on to them, one in each hand.
Then, she was being pressed forward into his feathers as he leaped from the ledge into the open air.
Sade’s stomach lurched. The cold wind seemed to catch up her elven silks, grabbing them and fanning them around her in the air in a mockery of a flag. Sade snuck a look at the vista of treetops fanning out below her, then squeezed her eyes shut as Haytham’s wings beat forcefully against the air, propelling them further upwards.
Sade realized she was praying. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” she whispered. The words fell naturally from her lips, though she had no recognition of where they’d come from, or to which of the Gods she was offering her prayer.
She didn’t know how long she clung to Haytham’s back, eyes shut and praying, but eventually her heart calmed, and she was able to look out over the vista beneath them. Haytham’s body below her was warm, and she was thankful, because the winds rushing over and around her whipped at her face and hair with painful chill.
Soon the trees of the elven court were only a splotch of red and gold behind them, as they climbed closer and closer to an expanse of snow-capped mountain peaks.
Was this where Haytham meant to take her? It looked desolate. What would they eat, and how would she stay warm? The princess hadn’t packed any blankets, as far as Sade could tell. She hoped Laire and Haytham’s grand plan wasn’t to freeze her to death on some barren mountaintop.
Considering, though, that her options at this point were either to hang on, or to jump off and fall thousands of feet to her death, it was probably better to stay put and hope for the best.
The sun was about halfway down its journey toward the horizon when Haytham began to descend. Sade held on tightly as the great bird drew his wings in close to his body.
They landed with a light bump on the mountain ledge. Sade closed her eyes, breathing heavily, happy just to be alive.
She scrambled down from Haytham’s back and jumped to the rocky ground. The sole of her left foot scraped against a stone, bringing tears to her eyes. Beside her, there was a crunch and then a hiss, as like displaced air, and Sade turned toward the sound to see Haytham naked on his hands and knees on the ground, panting.
Haytham’s rear end was a thing of beauty, Sade thought. Her cheeks warmed at the thought. She couldn’t help but feel herself disloyal… but to whom? Perhaps to the princess?
Sade dismissed the thought. She hardly intended to be loyal to a woman who had dreams of skinning her.
Haytham said, “Welcome to my home.” He stood up, and leisurely stretched his long, furred, muscular body. Sade had to glance away.
“There’s a cave this way,” he said, “away from the direct push of the wind. We can build a fire, and I’ll find us some meat for dinner.”
“Thank you,” Sade said.
She saw, looking around her, that the mountain wasn’t as desolate as she’d first thought. Away from the ledge, a thick, scrub-like grass grew in strips along the ground; it was scattered with tiny yellow and white flowers.
Haytham followed her gaze. “The flowers are edible,” he said, “and will go well with our meal. I’ll find you a basket. Try to gather as many as you can while I’m off hunting. Also –“ he pointed – “in that direction are some wild fruits and mushrooms. The fruits are safe to eat, but some mushrooms are poisonous, and you don’t know how to tell them apart. So don’t touch them.”
Sade nodded.
Without bothering to get dressed, Haytham led her to his cave, and she followed. The air here was cold and crisp; wind tickled her face and exposed arms, making the hem of her elven robes dance about her ankles.
The cave’s mouth was large, letting in the warm rays of the afternoon sun. Yet something about the cave’s shape kept the wind from intruding much past the threshold, although its voice was an unending background noise.
Inside, Haytham had a fire-darkened alcove, the floor littered with the remnants of charred sticks. On the wall at its left were three nails from which hung metal pots. To the right of the fireplace lay a pile of mismatched pillows and a blanket that looked as if it had been sewed together from dozens of tiny pelts. On the wall above the bedding hung a rough shelf. On it sat whittled figurines, mostly of animals: creatures resembling foxes, birds frozen in various forms of movement, something that looked like a snake. The snake was incomplete. A sharp piece of metal sat beside it.
“Did you make those?” Sade asked.
Haytham shrugged. “It’s a hobby,” he said.
Sade stepped closer to the whittled animals. Each could easily fit in her palm, and yet they were so expressive. One of the foxes had been caught mid-pounce, while another lay lazily on its side, eyes half-closed as though pretending not to watch its younger counterpart.
“They’re amazing,” Sade said.
Haytham shrugged, but Sade could see his cheeks growing pink. It made her smile. Funny that he should be embarrassed to share his whittling, but he had no concerns about walking around buck naked, while her eyes took in every part of his body.
He went to the fireplace, and, from beneath the hanging pots, retrieved a large, hand-woven basket, as wide as three of her hands lined up fingertip to wrist. Haytham held the basket out by one of its two handles; Sade took it.
They returned to the mouth of the cave. When she stepped into the sun, Sade found the wind here seemed lighter, more playful -- though she couldn’t figure out why. Her spirit seemed to lighten as well.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp pain burned through her soul-bond. She gasped, and brought her hand up to her chest, trying to soothe the pain.
Haytham glanced at her, and at the hand rubbing her chest.
“It’s your soul-bond, isn’t it?” he said.
Sade nodded.
“Well,” he said, gruffly. “The sooner we’re done with that, the better.” Sade nodded again, and looked away. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
Haytham broke the awkward silence. “Take the heads and stems of the flowers, but leave the roots to regrow,” he said. “Try to fill up the basket as well as you can before I return. We’ll use them tonight and in the morning, so the more we have, the better.”
Sade nodded again, and Haytham dropped to his knees on the ground and shifted.
Turning toward a patch of flowers she saw growing brightly nearby, Sade went to gather their dinner.
Chapter 6: Mate of Flesh
For Haytham, escaping the Edenost court and stretching his wings to the sky was a relief.
The mortal’s weight on his back, clinging so tightly, made the flight uncomfortably pleasant. It was a strange feeling for Haytham, to find himself aroused by carrying another. He’d never had the sensation when carrying an elf, the times when the queen asked the use of his wings for reconnaissance against her enemies.
But Sade was somehow solider, more… present… than an elf. The flowered perfume that the elves had bathed her in faded in the wind, leaving behind only her true scent: something musky with a hint of sharpness, that traveled straight to Haytham’s loins. He was grateful for the pain of the shift back to his human form, to remove any signs of arousal that might have lingered.
Careful, Haytham, he admonished himself. Yes, the princess wanted Sade seduced, but he’d have to strike a delicate balance if he chose to be her lover as well as her instructor. They were already living in intimate quarters.
>
Then again, maybe fucking Sade would get the urge out of his system. The chase was always more exciting than the kill.
Haytham left her with the basket, sending her to gather flowers to supplement their meal, and shifted again. Surely there would be a good deer somewhere in the valley between these two peaks. He could descend upon it, snapping its neck, and then he and Sade would eat well for days. He would also be able to use its pelt to fashion her a blanket. As it was, they’d be sharing his blanket tonight.
He cruised down to the valley, found a deer quickly and equally quickly dispatched it, hauling its limp body back to his home.
As he approached the cave ledge, carrying his burden of meat, he saw that Sade wasn’t at the flower patch where he had left her. But he spotted her not far off, at the thicket of berry bushes, gathering fruit in a swath of silk she must have taken from her clothing.
Haytham couldn’t help being struck by the intimacy of the situation. Rarely did he bring a lover to his den. And never had he taught anyone the wind dance.
Sade looked up as Haytham descended, dropping the deer on the cleared expanse of stone in front of his cave. Her large brown eyes were wide, and a bit afraid.
He landed on the ledge, and closed his eyes, letting the shift wash through him. It was always agony, having his bones and flesh reform itself in human skin, but when the pain had passed, he could stand and breathe again. His hands and nails were still bloody from where he had held the deer.
He needed to skin it first, so he went back into his den and took his knife from the shelf. The air had grown chill with the approach of evening, so, after wiping his hands on the pelt he kept for the purpose, he pulled on a pair of loose trousers and a sleeveless tunic.
Back outside, he saw Sade standing over the deer, clutching the basket of flowers and fruit in her right arm.
“It was a clean kill,” Haytham said. He wanted to dispel the look of horror on her face.
Sade swallowed. “That’s…good.”
Perhaps now wouldn’t be the best time, after all, to discuss using the hide to make her a blanket. “Why don’t you go inside the cave and get the fire started?” Haytham suggested.
Sade looked at him blankly a moment. “I’ve never started a fire.”
Yes, of course. Coming from living in the elven court, she wouldn’t have any useful skills at all.
He suppressed a sigh. “There’s a stream about a ten-minute walk away, along that ridge.” He pointed. “Leave your basket inside. I’ll give you a container you can use to draw the water, while I get the fire started and begin our dinner.”
Looking frankly relieved at the suggestion, she followed him quickly into the cave.
Haytham handed her a tightly woven basket. The inside was treated so that it wouldn’t leak, and it had a long handle; he usually used this while he was in bird form, holding it in his talons when he wanted to get water quickly. But the handle would fit comfortably over her shoulder.
Sade took the basket and started toward the mouth of the cave.
“Wait,” Haytham called after her. “Take your knife. The one the princess gave you. You’ll need it if there’s trouble.”
Sade looked at him helplessly for a second. Then she took a breath and nodded.
“Okay,” she said. She went back to the silk sack she had carried with her from the elven court, undid the clasp and rifled through it until she pulled out the sheathed silver blade. Weaving it through the loop at her waist, she stood again.
“Will you hear me if I scream?” she asked.
He nodded. “But it would take me some time to get there to help.”
He didn’t want to resent her. It wasn’t Sade’s fault that the Edenost court had done their best to make the woman soft and helpless. Still, it grated… no matter how prettily the elven silk of her dress hugged her rear.
When she had left, Haytham busily set himself to starting the fire and preparing the carcass. First, he had to prop the deer up, laying it on his back beside the outer cliff-wall of the cave. He took his knife and cut the deer from breast-bone to tail. Once he could to fit two fingers into the open slit, he made another slice straight down to the belly, and hen lifted the skin on either side to make the opening wide enough for the juices of the gut to pour out onto the rocky ground.
The difficult part was in not accidentally nicking the entrails as he removed them. In bird form, Haytham had no problem eating the entrails, but for a frail mortal, their contents could quite easily cause illness.
Sade returned just as he had finished cleaning out the body cavity. She watched him as he took the liver and the heart from behind the ribs, and placed them in a woven container. They would add an excellent counterpoint to the soup he planned to make.
Regretfully, he walked the entrails to the side of the cliff and threw them over. Had Haytham been alone, he would have changed form to eat them, but Sade already looked uncomfortable enough.
Now, all he had to do was take the flesh he wanted and hang it over the fireplace above the smoke to preserve it. He took up his knife again, and set about butchering the deer.
He finished as the sky was darkening in twilight fingers of indigo. “Let’s go,” he said, handing Sade the leather ropes for hanging the meat, and the container with the heart and liver.
“Is that its heart?” Sade asked.
“Yes. If you sear the outside over the fire, it goes well with the soup.”
“You’re going to cook it!”
“We’ll use every part of the animal,” Haytham said, trying to assuage her distress. “And I prayed that its Spirit join the Great Wind that cradles our world.”
Sade nodded, but she didn’t stand close to him as he lifted the remains of the deer’s carcass and carried it into the cave.
Well, she would have to learn. If she couldn’t kill a deer, she certainly wouldn’t be able to kill a man.
Sade followed him, sitting quietly on the edge of his blanket while he hung the carcass to smoke over the fire. After Haytham had prepared the meal, he took two bowls and spooned soup into each, laying the pieces of grilled heart on the cutting board between them. He had only a spoon and his knife, so he gave her the spoon, stabbed a piece of the grilled heart with the tip of his knife, and popped it into his mouth. The honest taste of his own kill was more satisfying than any of the delicacies of the elven court, and Haytham found himself relaxing for the first time since he had set foot in that cursed place this morning.
Sade sipped at her soup. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her looking over the rim of her bowl to at him, though when he tried to meet her gaze, she averted it quickly.
“Tomorrow, we start the dance,” Haytham said. He tried to make his voice persuasive, not threatening. “You’ll need the meat. Eat.”
Tentatively, Sade took the heart’s blade that the princess had given her, and pushed it into a slice of deer heart. She raised it to her mouth and pulled the meat off, weighing it on her tongue for a few moments before starting to chew. Haytham found himself watching the movement of her full lips. Arousal stirred.
He took another piece of meat.
Sade swallowed. He tried not to watch her throat.
“The dance…” Sade asked tentatively. “Is that what you were doing earlier?”
“Yes,” he said. “The key is always to listen to the wind. It will guide your steps, and through that, you will be able use it to kill effectively.”
To kill, to hurt, or to cause unspeakable pleasure: it was all the same to the dance. It took years to truly master the art of wind dancing. Fortunately – or unfortunately -- for Sade, she would hardly need to master the art in order to learn enough to kill her unsuspecting bonded mate. Haytham had his own suspicions about why the princess wanted Sade to learn the dance: when filled with the wind’s song, the mortal would be unable to hear or heed the warnings of her heart.
Not that any of this was really Haytham’s concern.
Sade took another piece of meat, and chewed it slowly. In the flickering firelight, her body looked lush and warm. Her brown eyes reflected the fire’s glow, and it cast orange light over her rich brown skin.
Haytham wondered what it would be like to take those lips, to run his palms over her hips, to have her open herself beneath him so that he could dip into her juices until she shivered beneath his skilled tongue…
If the desire was strong, he thought, it was likely because he had only ever brought lovers to his den. Sharing this space was too intimate for casual conversation. And if they were going to share his home, his bed, and the wind’s dance, it would be best simply to bed her and be done with it. Provided she was interested, of course.
Decision made, Haytham finished his soup and his half of the meat. Once Sade had finished hers, and they’d both drunk of the cool stream water she had brought in, Haytham wiped the dishes with a piece of discarded hide dipped in water, and set them on the shelf to dry.
It was difficult for him to figure out, even now, if Sade wanted sex. With one of his own kind, they would have already flown together, and the other shifter’s following him to his den would have been signal enough.
Haytham assumed the princess had satisfied herself with Sade during the mortal’s time at the palace. So it shouldn’t be problematic for him to suggest a similar agreement. But elves were so indirect, and Haytham knew nothing about how mortals initiated lovemaking.
The best thing, he decided, would be to strip and invite her beneath his blanket. Sex would follow, naturally; or it wouldn’t. But either way, things would become clear.
“Have you something to sleep in?” Haytham asked.
“I’ve always slept naked,” Sade said, lowering her gaze.
Was that interest or embarrassment? Possibly both.
Haytham stripped off his tunic, but left his trousers on. Lifting the blanket, he said, “Come on. You’ll freeze out here when the fire goes down.”
“Had you wanted me to touch you?” Sade asked.
