by T. S. Joyce
“If I didn’t tell you that, you wouldn’t have gone to the airport.”
“Damon, please. Please! Don’t make me do this alone. I don’t want to leave my mountains.”
“My mountains,” he rumbled in a deep, rattling voice. “
“Excuse me,” a woman said from behind her, touching her elbow gently.
Rowan startled hard and jumped out of the way, giving the woman and her three kids a ridiculously big amount of space to pass between her and a pillar. Concern flashed in the lady’s eyes as she passed, huddling her littles close. If she knew what Rowan was, she wouldn’t have allowed her family even this near. And now Rowan was going to shove herself into a tiny plane like a sardine with complete strangers? Without Damon? Hell no.
“I’m coming home,” she gritted out into the phone.
“The fuck you are,” Damon said, his voice still too low and gravelly. “You are a Bloodrunner, Rowan. And not a small one. Your dragon is almost as big as mine, and you have the fire. Now I’m fine with you living with the Gray Backs for the rest of your life if you at least go out and see the world before you settle.”
“But my treasure—”
“Is in your suitcase and will be in Asheville when you land. Rowan, there is nothing stopping you from helping the Bloodrunners.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Get on that plane.”
The line went dead, and Rowan glared at the screen as it faded to black. The last part had sounded an awful lot like an order. Damon wasn’t her alpha, though. Creed Barnett, her father, was, and she didn’t have to take orders from Damon. She could just leave and go back where she was safe and comfortable. Where her dragon felt in control.
Bloodrunner. She gritted her teeth. Thanks for that, Damon. His genetics had put a monster dragon in the middle of a submissive woman. His genetics had made controlling her inner monster a relentless chore from birth. His genetics had made her different from everyone. It wasn’t a good thing, being a special little snowflake. All her dragon did was bring her attention she didn’t want.
Rowan stared longingly at the mother and her three kids.
She would give anything to be human.
“You dropped this.” A man holding the straps of a black duffle bag over his shoulder stooped and picked a plane ticket off the floor. He stood easily enough and got taller and taller until she backed up a step just to look him in the face. He wore a black hoodie over dark hair and sunglasses, and a three-day black beard shadowed his chiseled jaw. His hair was longer on top and fell forward in front of his face. He shifted his weight to the side, and behind his sunglasses, his dark eyebrows winged up. He shook the paper gently. Right, she needed that.
She swallowed hard, took the ticket from his fingertips. There were tendrils of tattoo ink that curved out from under his sleeve and covered his hand.
“Thank you.” Her words came out nothing more than a frightened croak. Some Bloodrunner Dragon she was, afraid of a human.
A handsome human with muscles pushing against the long sleeves of his hoodie and powerful legs pressing against the threadbare fabric of his worn jeans, but a human nonetheless. She’d dated one once. They broke easily.
He was staring. At least, she thought he was. All she could see was her own reflection in his sunglasses. She looked petrified. He parted his lips to say something, but a woman announced over the loudspeaker, “All military personal and veterans, you can board now.”
The man turned abruptly and made his way toward the kiosk. He was the only one who walked to the front, and Rowan had to look around the broad shoulders of a man in a business suit to watch him. Tall Dark and Mysterious bore a deep limp. The woman up front took his ticket and talked just low enough that Rowan couldn’t hear. He answered, but all she caught was a deep, rich tone to his voice.
So, he was military. Points for him.
Rowan drifted closer, enamored by how his arm filled out his hoodie on the shoulder he carried the duffle bag. As he limped to the open doorway to board, he turned his face and seemed to look directly at her. A small gasp left her lips, but before she could force her attention anywhere else and pretend she wasn’t staring at him, Tall Dark and Mysterious was gone.
“First class and priority, you are free to board,” the woman announced over the speakers.
Rowan clutched the strap of her bag and looked longingly at the hallway that would get her back to the parking garage and back to Damon’s Mountains. She was twenty-five and had never flown on a plane. Why? Because the one time she’d left Saratoga, Wyoming was to aid her cousin Harper’s crew a couple weeks ago. And instead of stuffing herself into a plane, she made like a smart dragon and flapped her wings instead. Which is what she should be doing now, but she was moving temporarily to Harper’s Mountains on Weston Novak’s relentless requests to protect shifters much more dominant than her. Made no damn sense, but okay, maybe if she spewed fire and looked tough, the vamps, ravens, and werewolves would leave them alone. If she wasn’t bringing everything she could fit into four suitcases, including her treasure, she would’ve happily flown her own ass to North Carolina.
“Group one, you are free to board.”
Eight tiny months, and Harper would have her baby and be able to shift into her dragon and protect her own crew, but so much could go wrong in that amount of time. And if anything happened to the Bloodrunners because she hadn’t protected them, well…Rowan would never be able to forgive herself. No more sleeping soundly, no more easy conscience, nothing. It would wreck her.
But…there were reasons—deep, big reasons—she hadn’t wanted to leave Damon’s Mountains before, and taking this leap of faith that she would be all right away from home was terrifying.
“Group two, you are free to board.”
Shit, that was her. That should’ve been the first clue that Damon wasn’t coming with her. He’d been fine with flying coach. Damon Daye didn’t do anything less than first class, but she was on a budget. She’d been epically duped.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, and Weston’s name drifted across the caller ID. Before she could stop it, her dragon let off a soft, irritated growl. The mom with the three kids turned around and gave Rowan a wide-eyed look. Crap. It’s not like she was an unregistered shifter, and the airline knew she was taking this flight, but it was best not to announce to the humans she was about to sit in a tiny plane near them for most of the day.
Rowan ignored the call because she already knew what Weston would say.
A text chirped on her phone, and she read it.
Don’t be a chicken shit.
Harper needs you.
Fuckin’ Novak Raven. It was his fault she’d had to leave Damon’s Mountains two weeks ago. If they hadn’t grown up in the same crew, she wouldn’t have even considered putting herself at risk like that. And now he was making her do this. If she was completely honest with herself, she was pissed at him.
Get on the plane.
Asshole sounded like Damon now. Rowan turned off her phone.
“Last call for flight two-forty-five, last call.”
When Rowan looked up, she was alone in the terminal. The woman taking tickets was staring at her, and another lady behind the counter gestured her toward the gate.
Oooh, she really didn’t want to do this. What if The Sickening started in the plane, or she had an uncontrolled Change and killed everyone in there? God, that was a morbid thought.
But…
Tall Dark and Mysterious was somewhere in that plane. That made it a fraction more appealing. She could stare at him between the seats or maybe sneak a picture and send it to Aunt Willa and they could ogle him together.
“Last call, honey,” the lady behind the counter called to Rowan. “We’re about to close the doors.”
Harper did need her. All the Bloodrunners did. She would be shit in an actual fight, but maybe by her being there, crew enemies would stay away and let Harper grow her baby in peace.
“Miss?” the woman taki
ng tickets called. “They’re closing the doors.”
Indeed, a portly man was preparing to pull it closed.
With another pissed-off rumble, Rowan strode deliberately for the gate, gave her ticket, forced herself not to turn around and run for the exit, and made her way down the long ramp to the door of the plane.
“It’s my first time,” she blurted to the flight attendant who greeted her. She’d said it too loud, and the woman’s dark eyebrows jumped up like Rowan had startled her. Reading her nametag, she murmured. “Sorry, Nancy.”
The woman smiled and pushed a fallen strand of hair out of her face. “Are you the dragon?” she whispered with a worried moue to her lips.
Rowan looked around at the passengers in first class. Two of them were staring intently at her.
Rowan nodded.
“No trouble on this flight, okay?” the attendant said in a barely audible murmur. “It’s been a long week, and I just need this flight to go okay. Please?”
“Is there liquor on the flight?” Rowan winced at her own question. She wasn’t the best at social situations.
“I’ll bring you something to take the edge off. Is a mimosa okay?” the woman asked.
“Perfect. Can you make it strong?”
“Sit down so we can take off,” a rude asscrack in seat 2A called out.
“Go on, and I’ll bring your drink in a minute,” the nice stewardess said.
“Great.” Rowan had almost made her way out of first class before she remembered her manners and called, “Thank you, Nancy!” too damn loud again.
Asscrack shushed her.
Inner dragon growled.
Everyone was staring.
She tripped on a purse strap in the aisle and knocked a guy in 3C on the head with her carry-on bag.
He said the F-word and then called her the C-word.
She was not getting Damon a birthday present next month.
Why were planes so damn tiny? Everyone was mushed in here like a box of toothpicks, and the man in row five smelled like peanut butter.
Rowan checked the seat number on her ticket again. Every seat looked full from here.
“Hi,” she said to a little girl who was flopped sideways out in the aisle as though she was already bored. But then Rowan felt bad giving special treatment to her, so she said, “Hi,” to the next row, and the next, until someone sighed an annoyed sound from a window seat.
She missed Damon’s Mountains already.
Behind her, Nancy was already doing the plane safety lesson, and Rowan really needed to pay attention to this in case of imminent death. She double-timed it to the back of the plane, which was apparently where her seat was. But when she made it to the single empty aisle seat, she lurched to a stop. Tall Dark and Mysterious was slouched down in the seat next to hers, looking out the window, the wires of earbuds snaking from his phone to inside his hoodie. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, be cool!
“Are you stalking me?” she joked.
He rolled his head on the seat and frowned up at her. Slowly, he plucked the earbuds away from his face. “What?”
“I said are you stalking me?” Rowan grinned, waiting, but he wasn’t smiling. Another grumpy human then. “Never mind.” She opened up an overhead bin and wrestled her small carry-on bag up there next to his black duffle bag. They looked cute together. Neon pink and black. She should take a picture for Willa.
Rowan pulled out her phone and snapped a quick one, then nonchalantly pointed it at Tall Dark and Mysterious, too, but before she could push the button, he shoved the flat of his palm in front of the lens and blocked her shot.
“What the hell,” he gritted out. “No pictures.”
“Oh, are you famous?” she asked, sitting beside him. “Are you a singer? You have lots of tattoos. I’m nervous.” Rowan looked up front to see if Nancy had finished the safety lecture. Crap, now she was screwed if the plane went down. “Do you ride a motorcycle? You look like you would ride a motorcycle.”
“Are you going to talk the entire time?” a man across the aisle asked. “I mean seriously. You’re worse than a crying baby right now.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. To Tall Dark and Mysterious, she lowered her voice slightly and said, “I forget how fucking grumpy humans are.”
He had tucked his hands in his pockets and was currently staring at her. At least she thought he was. The damn sunglasses were hiding his reactions.
“Do you want to take a selfie with me?” she asked politely.
“No.”
“I’m getting a mimosa.” Rowan craned her neck, but Nancy had disappeared.
“Probably not. Those are for first class.”
“Nancy said she would bring me one, and I trust her. She has nice eyes.” Rowan arched her eyebrows primly at his sunglasses.
Tall Dark and Mysterious scooted farther away from her and gave his attention to the runway again. Boring view, but okay.
Aunt Willa would freak out if Rowan sent her a picture of this guy. For years they’d played “I spy the hottest guy” but the pool was limited since neither one of them liked to leave Saratoga. Uncle Matt thought it was funny and even sent occasional pictures of guys for the contest. They were usually shaped like bath sponges and had armpit-stains, but probably Uncle Matt just didn’t understand how the game was played.
The engines turned on, and the plane started moving. This was really happening. Panicking, she buckled her seatbelt and gripped the edges of the armrest as she panted loudly like an overheated German Shepherd.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the man toss her a look, but whatever helped her get through this, she was gonna do it.
“Miss, are you okay?” a kind lady across the aisle asked. “Do you need a barf bag?”
“This is my first time. This is my first time,” she chanted as the plane made a wide turn. They weren’t even going fast but inside, her dragon was writhing and uncoiling in anticipation. She apparently didn’t like to give up control when they flew. Don’t Change!
“Lady, settle the fuck down,” he muttered beside her. “It’s just flying.”
“The second you fall asleep, I’m going to take a picture of you.” Shit. Stop panic-talking.
“I’m not going to sleep then. Do you want to sit by the window?”
“Does it help?” Too loud!
“Shhhhh!” the grumpy human across the aisle said.
“I’ve literally had bigger shits than you,” Rowan told him. In dragon form. The guy looked grossed out, but beside her, Tall Dark and Mysterious snorted.
The plane was going faster, and where the hell was Nancy with the mimosa? Rowan had trusted her. Trusted her with everything she had, and Nancy With The Kind Eyes And The Pretty Promises was failing her.
Rowan was breathing too loud now, and the rhythmic moaning sound that was filling the plane, she was mortified to realize, was coming from her.
“Jesus,” he cursed, yanking her from the seat and into his. He stepped over her, lost his balance, and before she could stop herself, Rowan squeezed his tight little ass to try to help him stay upright. It was as firm as steel and round like a ripe apple, and she wished he wasn’t swatting her hand away.
“Lady, stop it,” he gritted out, clenching her wrists. He sat heavily in her old seat. Oh, he was a lot stronger than she’d imagined. That man could probably fondle the hell out of a dragon shifter boob. “Stop groaning. You sound insane, and you’re scaring people.”
The plane picked up speed, plastering her back against the seat, and outside the window, the runway was blurring past them.
“You said the window seat would be better!” she shrieked.
He hunched his shoulders as though the pitch of her voice had hurt his ears and clamped his hand over her mouth. In self-defense, she licked his hand and immediately regretted it. Squeezing his butt was one thing, but licking was taking it too far.
Especially since he gritted out in a terrifyingly deep voice, “That’s enough, Bloodrunne
r.”
Rowan froze, her tongue against his palm. Slowly, she retracted it and pursed her lips.
Finally, the plane leveled out, and the seatbelt sign overhead made a pretty ding sound.
“Mimosas,” Nancy said from behind him.
Carefully, he removed his hand from Rowan’s face and reached for the flutes of orange juice and champagne. Nancy gave him a wide-eyed smile that said, “good luck with this one,” and made her way back to the front.
He handed her both drinks, but she shook her head and only took one. “That one is for you.”
“I don’t drink this shit,” he murmured.
“We can pretend we are sitting in first class and take a selfie,” she suggested.
He inhaled long and deep, then sighed it out like he was controlling his anger. “Fine.”
Terror forgotten, Rowan grinned brightly and lifted her phone in front of them. With a pretty tink of their glasses, she snapped the picture. In it, she was resting her head on his shoulder with the happiest smile, but he was nestled deep in his hoodie and looked like he hated everything about his life. That just added to his sexiness. For reasons beyond her understanding, Rowan had a brand new thing for dark and broody, tatted up and moody.
She sipped her fancy drink with her pinky up. “I’m Rowan.”
“I know,” he muttered.
“How did you know I was a Bloodrunner Dragon?”
He took his mimosa like a shot. “Your eyes give you away, princess.”
She grimaced at the nickname. “My friends call me Roe.”
“We aren’t friends. I’ll stick with princess.”
“Fine. What do people call you?”
He stared at the seat in front of him. He couldn’t ignore her the entire plane ride, though, so she leaned her elbow on the seat, rested her chin in her palm, and waited. Tall Dark and Mysterious shook his head and gritted his jaw so hard a muscle twitched there.
“Kane.” He cast her a quick glance, then lowered his voice. “People call me Dark Kane.”
“Oooh, sexy.”
“Not sexy. I hate it.” He was untangling his headphones now, and she could see the shutdown coming from a mile away.
