“Aye, well, I canna blame ye for having doubts, if ye have them.” He stepped back, looking her over, one eyebrow raised. “Ye look a proper Scottish lass, at any rate.”
He seemed far too calm for someone who was going to alter his whole being into a mythological creature, although she saw the gleam in his eyes. Her heart was racing, her breathing fast and shallow. Why wasn't he as excited as she was? Because he's Ross, and he's not a giddy girl.
“How does this work? How do you...make the change?”
He held her gaze, his brows drawing together. “It's no sommat I can explain. There's magic, sommat beyond my understanding, or my control. But I ken shift. It's there, an ache, deep inside.”
“When?”
“Aye. Now, if ye like.” He moved away from her. “But I canna ask ye to watch...willna let ye.”
“Why?” She took a step after him, but he held up his hand.
“It's no a pretty sight. It's enough to see me...after.” He shook his head. “Some day...not now.”
He disappeared behind one of the roof parapets. There was silence, and she tried to imagine what he was doing, what it would be like to change your shape, to alter your very being into something else. Even something common, like a wolf or a cat...that seemed impossible. But a dragon? A mythical beast that breathed fire. She shook her head, unable to even begin to image how this could happen.
There were noises, painful sounds, Ross's voice reaching her in wordless cries. It was clear Ross was in some kind of distress. For a horrified moment she wondered what she should do if something went wrong. There was no way to call anyone, no one to call. The excitement in her veins turned to fear.
The sounds grew louder, deeper, less human, more animal-like. But it was like no animal she'd ever heard. The cries and roars were accompanied by the sound of something very loud moving about in the dark. Squinting, she peered into the darkness where Ross had last stood.
The dragon moved from behind the parapet, the lantern throwing just enough light for her to see it. It lifted its head, spreading its wings, and roared into the darkness. She was frozen to the spot in awe, and if she were honest, in fear.
It was taller than Ross, easily two yards or more high at the shoulder, with a long neck supporting a massive head. He shook his wings, the sound like a thousand bats flying. The moonlight caught its claws—talons—gilding them with silver. The dragon swung his head toward her, eyes glowing red in the dark. It...he...Ross took a step toward her, and she stumbled back, narrowly missed falling into the opening in the floor.
“Ross...” Her voice came out a hoarse croak. She cleared her throat. “Ross?”
The dragon folded his wings, dropping down onto his front legs, talons clicking against the stone. He crouched, lowering his head. He made a sound not unlike a cat's purr, and she stepped forward again.
“It is you, right?” She was drawn to him, and she picked up the lantern, moving closer. “It is you?”
He brought his head up to her face, and she looked into his eyes. And then she saw him, saw the steady gaze in the dragon's eyes. The dragon growled, low and soft.
“It is you. Oh, my God.”
His body was covered with scales, catching the light, showing blue and green, mixed with rust and black. She took a step, reached out, touched his shoulder. The scales were softer than she'd imagined, cool, but alive.
At her touch he shuddered, the scales moving beneath her fingers. He twisted his neck, rubbing his head against her shoulder. The touch was gentle, barely brushing against her.
“I'm okay. Are you okay?” She reached up, running her hand along the side of his head. He closed his eyes, rubbing against her like a cat.
“I take that as a yes.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don't have any doubts anymore, Ross. Oh my God…you are so beautiful.”
If a dragon could smile, she thought he did.
“Let's fly.”
He crouched down, and it was clear he meant for her to climb on his back. She blew out the lantern and set it aside.
“You know, we really should have put a little more thought into this.”
He snorted, swinging his head back and forth. He crouched lower extending one front leg.
“Okay. Got it.” She stepped on his front leg, then pulled herself up onto his back. There was a ridge of scales that ran along his back, but near his shoulders there was a gap in the scales, almost like a saddle, complete with a pommel to hold on to. She swung her leg over and sat down. It wasn't until she started to adjust her skirt that she realized the place had been made by cutting away a section of the ridge, leaving a scar.
“I'm sorry, Ross.” Her words were lost on the breeze. “So sorry for this.”
But he was moving beneath her, rising up until he stood on all four legs. It was easy to sit and to hold onto the scales while he was holding still. It was probably going to be another matter all together when they were flying. He twisted his neck, looking at her as she perched on his back.
“I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Take it easy, okay? I'm just a beginner here.”
He snorted again, and she swore he smiled at her. But then he was moving toward the edge of the roof, amazingly graceful for such a large creature. Then he spread his wings with a rustle, and stepped off the edge into the night. She was pretty sure she screamed, but she wasn't really sure.
There was a heart-stopping drop, her stomach doing a flip-flop, and the ground rose up to meet them. Grabbing the ridge with both hands, she closed her eyes. Then Ross flapped his wings, and they rose, slowly at first, then gaining speed. She caught her breath, opening her eyes.
She could feel Ross's muscles moving beneath her with each flap of his wings. They rose steadily, climbing toward the moon, the wind blowing through her hair. It was much cooler up here, and she was doubly glad of the wool skirt and shawl.
Ross leveled off, flying in a slow circle. She saw the dark bulk of the castle below them, the courtyard, and the smaller building that was the forge. She had her bearings, at least for the moment. Ross flew over the buildings, and then the river was below them, and he followed its sinuous curves. It looked like pewter, dull gray beneath the trees, brighter where the moonlight reflected off the surface. There were some fields, lights that must be homes, but the further they flew, those began to disappear, more trees covering the land, fields and houses disappearing.
There were hills, and then there were no more fields or houses. It was wilds and woods, and open spaces, but no roads. They were far away from anyone.
The first rush of fear had faded, replaced with excitement and elation. She was flying on a dragon. And that dragon was Ross. It was true; it was magic.
She released her death grip on the ridge in front of her and spread her arms wide. The wind caught at her shawl and hair, rushing past her. This was freedom, and she knew now why Ross had loved this, why he'd wanted to do this again.
He swung away from the river, rising up over a hill, dipping down the other side. This beat any roller coaster she'd ever been on. He took a turn, and she gripped the pommel of scale in front of her, leaning with him as he sailed in a slow circle.
Slowly she became aware of the movement of his body beneath her, the shift of his muscles as he rose or dipped, circled or sailed. It was intimate, and surprisingly erotic.
Suddenly he rose, flying almost straight up toward the moon. She did scream this time, gripping the scale ahead of her, tightening her thighs against his body. It seemed as if she could reach up and touch the moon, they were that close.
They seemed to stop, held suspended against the blackness of the sky. Ross held his wings spread for a moment, arched his neck downward, and then, to her horror, fold his wings and dove for the ground. The wind howled in her ears, pulled at her clothes, and for a terrible moment she felt totally out of control.
It seemed forever before he spread his wings, slowing them, then swooping up, rising again toward the moon. He leveled off, circling the countryside. She'd gott
en over her panic, but her heart was still racing.
He swung back toward home, the moon at their backs. The river appeared below, tiny, growing in width, trees thinning. It was clear he avoided flying over the cottages below, taking his time getting back.
The castle came into view, and she was surprised the height of the cliff on the riverside. It was also clear how deteriorated the building was. Ross circled the building and she saw windows with no glass, part of one wall that had collapsed.
With grace and ease, he landed on the roof. He knelt down, and she slid on weak legs to the stones. He turned to her, bumping her shoulder with his head.
“Yes, that was amazing. Thank you.” She ran her hands along his face, surprised at how warm and soft the scales were here, not hard at all. Ross closed his eyes, making that purring noise again. She rested her forehead against his.
“I love you, Ross. Nothing will ever change that.”
He pulled away, blinking at her. She smiled, tears pricking her eyelids. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”
He snorted, shaking his head. But it was a gentle snort, and she laughed.
“Can you come back to you? I'm finding that I really want to talk to you...among other things.”
The snort this time was louder, and she swore he was laughing at her. He turned melting into the darkness behind the parapet. She managed to get the candle lantern lit, and then she waited. There were sounds, sort of a reverse of what happened before. The sounds—they really were heart-wrenching—went from growls and grunts, clearly an animal, into human sounds...the sounds of Ross's voice.
He was buckling his kilt as he came around the stone wall, shirt thrown over his shoulder. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his chest was slick, and he looked drained. But he was smiling at her.
“Well, was it everything ye thought it would be?” He stood in front of her, still breathing hard. “Or was it too much?”
“It wasn't too much. It was perfect.”
Ross took the candle lantern from her, and it it's glow she saw the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Are you alright? You look exhausted.”
“Aye...” He passed a hand over his forehead. “I forgot how it was, after. But that was after hours of flying and fighting. Never thought it was the changing that did me in.”
“We better get you into bed then.”
He shook his head, and for a moment she saw the dragon the same move he'd made before. “If you think that's the best place for me...” He took a step toward her, fingers twitching at her shawl. “I'll take ye back downstairs.”
“I meant you should rest...”
“I thank ye for the concern, but I'm fine.”
“But...”
“But...I'm fine.” He took her hand. “And if ye come with me, I'll show ye just how fine I am. Unless ye want to tend to me.”
He handed her the lantern, then climbed down onto the ladder. “Come on, I'll catch ye if ye fall.”
Leaning down, she handed him the lantern, then gathered her skirts and started down. She was a rung or so from the bottom when he took her around the waist and lifted her down, setting her feet on the floor. She turned, and he pulled her against his chest.
“So you love me still, even though I was covered with scales?”
“I love you still, scales and all.”
He leaned down, lips claiming hers, the kiss a mix of possession and dominance, love and trust. No one had ever kissed her like this, ever. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drinking him in, returning with passion and fire of her own.
It was Ross who finally broke away with a gasp. “Girl, ye kiss me like that and I do need to be put to bed. With ye in it.”
He took her by the hand, the lantern casting bizarre shadows as he led her back through the castle, down the stairs. She knew where they where then, knew they were heading to his room. And that was fine with her.
Ross banged through the door, pulling her behind him. The lantern had barely landed on the bedside table before he had her in his arms.
“And what did ye want to talk about? I can still hear ye, ye know, when I'm changed.”
“I...I wanted to ask you what it was like, how it felt.”
To her surprise he kissed her forehead and let her go. “Aye. I want to tell ye, to talk about it. But I want a wash first. I smell like...a dragon.”
It was good to hear his laugh. “You do smell a little...odd.” It wasn't an unpleasant smell, but it wasn't what she was used to. He didn't smell like Ross.
“I'll get the water then.” She reached for the lantern, but he put his hand on her arm.
“Na, I'll get it. You'll fall down in the dark.”
He was out the door, and she heard him walking to the kitchen. It wasn't long before he was back. He set the bowl on the table, water sloshing onto the table. She saw his hands were shaking. In the candlelight he looked even more haggard than he had before.
“You need to lie down. I can do this.” She took the towel from him. For once he didn't put up an argument. He undid the buckles on the kilt, and it fell to the floor.
“It must take a lot out of you, changing form...” Her words trailed off.
He was already climbing onto the bed, lying back against the pillows with his hands behind his head. She was struck by how confident he looked, lying naked on the sheets, without the kilt, or the tools of the forge in his hand. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was pretty damned perfect. And that he was hers.
“Aye, it does.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, and taking the wet edge of the towel, wiped away the sweat and grime on his forehead, his cheeks. His eyes were sunken, lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth. He lay still, dark eyes watching her. It sent off a soft flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of flying.
“Was it what you thought it would be like? Being with me?” She dipped the towel in the water again, working slowly over his neck. She pushed his shoulder, and he rolled onto his side, resting his head on one arm as she washed the back of his neck, lifting the mass of his dark hair.
“It was better with ye, I ken it would be. Ye weigh naught. If not for yer hands on me, I'd have not ken ye were there.”
The towel was turning gray, and she dipped in a clean corner. “It was amazing… I can’t even find the words to explain just how wonderful it was.”
She'd almost finished washing his back when he took a deep breath.
“It was Ravena who cut the place where ye sat. She had a knife...long and sharp. Said it was my initiation...my rite of passage.” He snorted a laugh that carried no mirth.
“Hurt like the devil...burned terribly.” Beneath her hands the muscles of his back tensed and bunched. “
She made me fly that night, with her sitting there. She'd prod me with the tip of the knife as we flew, told me later it was to train me.” He sighed, then relaxed.
“It was long ago. Yer not her. I ken that.” He rolled back, looking up at her. Reaching out he took her hand. “I want to forget her. I want to think of his as the first time I flew.” He pushed up on his elbows.
“Ye can't erase the past, I ken. I can't make Ravena disappear from my memories. She created me, made me who I am. But I canna and willna let her rule me any longer.”
Arianna held the towel in her lap. “I don't want you to be anyone else than who you are. You have a past. I have a past, but it's not as heartbreaking as yours.” Tears gathered under her eyelids, and she tried to blink them away.
“And not nearly as long.”
She managed a smile. “No, not as long.”
“But we have a future now, Arianna, together. I want to remember those days, not the past.”
She let the tears fall and he sat up, brushing one away. “Dinna cry, it's not worth the tears.” He pulled her against his chest. “Dinna cry.”
He rocked her for a long time as she cried against his chest. Finally she sniffled and looked up at him. “I guess I don't foll
ow directions very well.”
“No woman ever does.”
She heard the laughter in his voice, but she swatted at his shoulder anyway. “Beg your pardon?”
“It's the thing I love about ye, one of them anyway.” He reached out, tugging the shawl free of the wide leather belt. “Ye'd be a boring lass if ye did everything I asked. And I canna love a boring lass.”
The shawl fell around her hips, and Ross began on the buttons of the blouse. He stopped, looking up at her.
“I want ye, Arianna. More than I could have ever imagined. I want ye now, and tomorrow, and then for as long as we can. I want ye in my bed, and in my life. I want to see you in the kitchen, when ye learn to cook. I want to see ye in the library, head bent over the books. I want ye to look up at me, the way ye do, from beneath those lashes, hair resting against yer cheek.”
Her tears had started again. “I want you too, Ross. For as long as we can have each other.”
The rest...she couldn't not say the rest, that any life with him would be only a brief period of his life. That she, like Bridget, would grow old and die. And he'd be left alone.
“I love ye, Arianna, for however long that be.”
“And I love you, too, Ross. For however long.”
* * *
The candle had burned down, leaving a puddle of wax in the bottom of the lantern. Arianna rolled over. The moon must still be out there somewhere, its soft silvery light falling across the foot of the bed. Ross was snoring beside her, so deep asleep she didn't think he'd wake, even if she tried all her feminine wiles.
She settled back, smiling at him in the dark, resting a hand on his shoulder. He'd laid bare her only fear...the only doubt she had about staying with him. He was something short of immortal. One of the books upstairs...she remembered reading an obscure passage. Witches could not make themselves, or others, immortal.
But Ravena had done the next best, or worst, thing. Ross would age so slowly it wouldn't matter; Arianna would still be long dead before Ross even aged a year. The end for him...it was almost too painful to think about. He'd be an old, old man, for a very long time.
Kiss Of Fire (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance): Dragon Shifter Romance Page 11
