Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  “You’re going to die doing it that way. Your wing muscles haven’t been conditioned to fly in your human form. They’re used to carrying a heavy lion.” She looked up at me with big, pleading puppy eyes—or kitty eyes?—and I groaned.

  She was going to kill me.

  “I have an idea. Come with me.” When she didn’t immediately follow, I added, “I won’t make you touch any more rocks.”

  “I’ll force feed you the rock next time,” she grumbled.

  A slow grin spread across my face. “You could try.”

  Her deep growl shook the room, like a pissed off kitty cat. My smile broadened.

  Before my thoughts could sharpen on what I was about to do, there was a more pressing matter that needed attention.

  “Do you have a pair of scissors?” I glanced over my shoulder and noted her quizzical expression.

  “No, why? Stay away from my wings.”

  I slammed to a halt, realizing how the words must have sounded. “Reagan.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “I’m not going to cut your wings. You think I’d do something sick like that?”

  “No.” She paused. “Reflex, sorry. I have knives?”

  Reflex. I huffed out a sigh. This girl . . .

  “Yeah, I’ll take a knife.” When she passed me one, I strode down the hall and into her bedroom. Then whirled to face her. “If I’m going to give you flying lessons, I have one rule: no nudity. So grab a shirt you don’t mind me tearing into.”

  A crease formed between her brows, but she shrugged and tossed me a black t-shirt. I wasted no time digging the knife into the material, cutting the back straight down the middle. “I need a pair of shoe strings, too.” After a moment of rummaging in her closet, she threw them my way, then proceeded to pull on a pair of black cut-off shorts.

  Making a couple holes in the shirt, I threaded the string through and tied the ends off. I crooked a finger at her and, when she came over, motioned for her to turn around. “Slip your arms through the sleeves.”

  She clucked her tongue and grabbed the knife, cutting off the sleeves. “Better.”

  Better for who?

  When the shirt was draped across her front, I grasped the shoelaces, preparing to tie them together below her wings. She gathered her hair over a shoulder and that’s when I noticed a cutesy sea otter tattoo almost obscured by her right wing. The little creature was gripping a fish, looking ready to chow down.

  I smirked and lifted a hand toward the spot, but stopped myself just in time. What I couldn’t stop was my mouth. “Is this your spirit animal or something?” And then my stupid finger touched the otter’s tail.

  Reagan lifted her shoulder, the animal’s body stretching with the motion. “Not quite.”

  My curiosity was piqued now. I pursued. “A pet then?”

  “No,” she said softly. “She’s a memory. A reminder.”

  I glanced at her thin scars again, and a rock tumbled into my gut. I hadn’t expected her to say that. If her memories were anything like mine, the tattoo similar to why I’d kept my scars . . . “I get that. You don’t need to tell me.”

  “She was Fae,” she began anyway. “I was . . . I screwed up. And Mordecai . . .” Her words trailed off. Then she added, her voice barely a whisper, “She wasn’t even six . . .”

  Unease churned in my stomach as I slowly threaded the shoelaces together. She didn’t continue and I struggled to keep my mouth shut. Questions pushed at my throat, but with difficulty, I swallowed them. After several beats of weighted silence, I simply said, “I’m sorry.” Another few seconds passed and I blurted, “The tattoo is cute, though.”

  She huffed a laugh, shivering as I finished tying the strings. I inwardly sighed, relieved. Talking about my past demons wasn’t something I did. Maybe Reagan was the same way. “There,” I said smugly, stepping back to inspect my handiwork. “Problem solved.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at my brilliant creation, then reached for the knife again. As she ripped away the material covering her stomach, I groaned. “You’re killing me here, Reagan.”

  “You left too much. This is better. More mobile, too.”

  Too much. Mobile. She might as well strip naked again. No. This would do.

  “Okay, I have to do one last thing before this disastrous flight attempt can proceed. Just . . . don’t go anywhere. I’ll be out in a minute.” My heart was already an out-of-control drum in my chest. It had been so long. Was I really going to do this? What if . . . what if it didn’t work?

  I didn’t wait for her reply, already making for the spare bedroom. The door snicked shut and I blew out a shaky breath. For a full minute, I stared at nothing, my mind completely blank. Behind me, my wings lightly scraped against the walls, as if to signal their purpose, their strength. Even now, when only their frame and a few lethal feathers remained.

  You’re a master of your pain.

  Determination pumped hot through my blood.

  I was ready.

  Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, I let healing energy stir in my veins, let the magic recently enhanced by the Genesis Crystal thread itself toward my tattered wings. For the last three years, I convinced myself that I didn’t have the healing power to fix them. I wasn’t strong enough. But in truth, I’d never tried.

  That night, when everything had gone wrong, I’d survived. I had lived. But that didn’t mean I could go on living and forget. I had to remember the cost of my mistakes. A price I hadn’t been willing to pay, but one I now atoned for every miserable day. So I’d kept my scars. Hadn’t tried to heal them. Including the wings that had failed me. That had failed her.

  Now, one room away from me, so close I could almost hear her breathing, Reagan needed those wings. Actually needed them. Old, familiar shame threatened to undo my newfound determination. But maybe, once my wings were healed, their future use wouldn’t hinder my need to remember past failures. I had to try. Because a part of me, a part that was growing louder each and every day, begged to live this moment.

  With Reagan.

  When the healing was complete, I didn’t peek at what I knew rested behind me. Wings with feathers that resembled sleek, obsidian blades. Fixed. Whole. I simply rose and walked out of the room, seeking the girl who needed a flying lesson.

  I found her sitting on the back of the living room couch, wings tucked behind her. Reagan’s eyes widened when she caught sight of me. She slipped down and strode closer. Her lips parted as she tentatively reached out, like she would stroke one of the streamlined feathers. She jerked her hand back at the last second.

  “Tarik, your wings are incredible. I thought they were beautiful before, but . . . they’re glorious.”

  My stomach clenched hotly. Not only from her words, but from her hesitation. I had wanted to feel her touch. Actually wanted it. I mentally shook myself, dispelling the ache. “Right. Let the flying commence. Although, there’s a good chance I’ll fall, too. I’m a bit rusty.”

  “We’ll be fine.” She grinned, eyes bright with excitement. “I can do this at least.” She stretched her wings out and flapped. If only that were all she needed to know.

  I strolled to the open sliding door, turning around when my feet hit the balcony. Caution tugged at my common sense then. Was I really going to fly? In shifter territory? I shoved the feeling aside. When had I ever exercised caution? Besides, night had fallen—my wings should be near invisible against the dark sky.

  So, instead of using my brain, I tipped my lips up and said, “Even baby birds can flap their wings. Right before they fall out of the nest,” then fell backward off the balcony’s edge.

  Wind whistled past my ears as I plummeted for the cement below. For a split second, fear crashed through me. What if my wings had weakened? Flexing my back muscles, black wings snapped out, catching my fall. With a great flap, I shot into the air, popping up in front of a stunned Reagan.

  I hovered, waiting for her to call me out on my theatrics—maybe call me an arrogant Fae prick�
�but she was a frozen block of ice. Seeing her so vulnerable sent a jolt of protectiveness spearing through my gut, and I carefully landed beside her. Large eyes stared up at me, her earlier excitement snuffed. I gentled my voice, saying, “See? No problem. Just like riding a bike.”

  “You dropped like a stone. You’re right, there’s a difference. My lion . . . I’m too bulky. I don’t drop that fast.” She gulped. “Help me.”

  “I can do that. But maybe for the first time, you should, uh—” Warmth smacked my face when I realized what needed to happen. I didn’t know if I could go through with it. But her expression, so afraid yet so determined, gave me the courage to try. “Here . . .” I picked up her arm and looped it around my neck, then did the same with the other. With our height difference, I had to curl forward, bringing my head close to hers.

  Wrapping an arm behind her, securing her to me, I said, “Ready?”

  Reagan choked out a laugh. “No.”

  I raised a brow. “You know what they say about trust?” Her eyes widened as I finished with, “You have to take a leap of faith.”

  Jumping into nothing, I took her with me, flapping my wings hard so we wouldn’t plummet. She clung tighter, arms like vines around my neck, and I laughed.

  “I won’t drop you,” I said, still chuckling. I shouldn’t—I really shouldn’t—but when she continued to strangle me, I couldn’t help adding, “Did you know mama birds push their babies out of the nest?”

  “Do you know that I can rapid-shift in a split second?” she growled.

  The corners of my mouth twitched. “Can you now? Let’s see.”

  She shook her head, hair thickening into bright white.

  I almost dropped her. I chuckled again, nervously. “If you become a huge cat right now, there’s no way I can carry you. I mean, how much would you say your lion weighs?”

  “That’s incredibly rude. You can’t just ask someone how much they weigh.” But she winked and shook her head, hair returning to the familiar blue and black.

  “Point taken.” I stared at her for a moment. The night sky was clear around us, studded with twinkling stars, the city below surprisingly quiet. Only us, with the world at our feet. Her fear of falling had all but melted away, my dumb jokes drawing out her sass. I almost wished things were different. That three years ago, I hadn’t lost my ability to care on a deeper level.

  Because this. There was something special about this.

  I didn’t want this moment to end.

  You can’t have her.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “Tarik? You okay? Your eyes got all sad on me.”

  I snapped back to reality, to what we’d come here to do. I mentally slapped myself. Get yourself together, man. “Must be the wind in my face. Anyway, your turn to fly. We can start by hovering. You know how to hover, right?”

  “Never heard of ‘hovering.’ Could you explain?” She batted her lashes at me, lips stretched into a smirk.

  I huffed. “Very funny. But I don’t think this teaching thing is going to work. The best way to learn is by doing, so . . .” I let my grip on her loosen, and she slid down my body an inch.

  She groaned. “All right, fine. Do what you must.”

  My mind blanked.

  Then went places it shouldn’t.

  She seemed to have no clue how her words came across sometimes. Or how her nudity affected me. She was seriously messing with my ability to think.

  I slowly exhaled. Focus. Focus. “I’m not going to let go—not until you’re ready. Start by stretching out your wings as far as possible.”

  She did, her white wings catching the city light’s below. I raised my free hand and stroked one of the feathers under the guise of bringing her attention to them. But I couldn’t resist touching her wings—so supple compared to mine. “Now, feel the wind flowing along the length of them. Wind is your friend. It’ll keep you from dropping like a stone when I let go.” I paused. “Do you feel it?”

  At her nod, I flapped higher.

  “Still feeling it? Good. Because I’m letting go now.” I lowered my arms and hers wrapped tighter, strangling me once again. “Flap your wings,” I raised my voice over the rushing wind. After a few test flaps, she loosened her grip. “You’ve got this. You can let go.”

  And she did.

  For a heart-stopping second, she dropped. I tucked my wings, prepared to catch her, but her wings caught a draft, lifting her higher.

  She whooped in delight, circling me, and my stomach flipped.

  Because for a moment, she looked Fae.

  Fae or not, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  —

  I couldn’t get that night under the stars out of my head.

  Even two mornings later as I lounged on her plush sofa, watching a ridiculous TV show about a couple who couldn’t communicate to save their lives. Those accents. Cringe-door frameworthy. Who spoke like that? It was better than watching the local news channel laden with typical shifter propaganda, though.

  After the flying lesson, everything naturally clicked into place for Reagan. She could retract her wings and shift into lion form at will, interchanging the two when needed. Every time she allowed the wings free while still in human form, my heart stopped, then sped up too fast, stealing my breath.

  Any minute now she’d return from patrol. I pushed on the remote control again, trying in vain to change the channel. Or turn it off. If she caught me watching this garbage—

  “Hold still, Tarik. I want to remember this image forever.” Laughter filled the room behind me.

  My legs jerked, but I managed to stay seated, even as heat crawled up my neck. I played it cool, not daring to turn around. “Are these characters supposed to mimic real life?”

  She continued to snicker as she said, “No, they amp up the drama. After a few seasons, you’ll be able to call every plot twist.”

  “What a waste of time,” I muttered, dropping the remote beside me. “So.” I swiveled to face her naked form, knowing I would never get used to her casual morning entrances. “Can you make some bacon?”

  “In a few. Alec’s on his way over. I saw his dragon as I dropped in.” She made a shooing gesture. “Go to my room, lock the door, and promise me you’ll stay in there. Please?”

  I stood, crossing my arms. “Only if he behaves. Because if he crosses any lines, all bets are off.”

  “I’ll be fine. Shoo, go.”

  Turning on my heel, I made for the hallway, then quickly backtracked with one of her discarded sweaters. I liked this one because it covered her to mid thigh. When she didn’t take it, I said, “I don’t want him seeing you like that.” As her eyes rolled upward, I fitted the sweater’s neck over her head myself. She grumbled but stuck her arms through and pulled the material down.

  I nodded, satisfied, then jogged to her room, locking the door behind me. But I wouldn’t sit back while the fool dragon shifter strutted around Reagan’s apartment. I pressed my ear to the door, not caring in the least that I was eavesdropping.

  A boom sounded directly outside, then a squeal as the sliding door opened.

  “Hey, babe, you’re looking particularly delicious this morning.”

  I hissed softly. That cocky piece of—

  A snort. “Get out of my apartment, Alec.”

  “Is that any way to greet your favorite dragon?” he crooned, and I clenched my teeth.

  “I’m not particularly fond of either of you.”

  A pause. “So what father said was true, then. You shifted on him.”

  “And if I did?”

  “I mean, I’ve never really seen you as the take-control type. It’s honestly kind of hot.” I heard heavy footfalls as he made his way toward the kitchen.

  Their voices lowered then, as if the tension had grown. I strained to pick up Reagan’s next words.

  “Alec, I am not in the mood.”

  “You’re never in the mood.” Something about that statement—as if he’d said the
words dozens of times before and his patience was wearing thin—raised the hair on my arms.

  “Get out.” Muffled sounds—like furniture being knocked into—broke the silence, and then, “Alec, I’m warning you. I will cut your manhood off.”

  “Your apartment smells like dirty Fae.” A pause. “And since when do you wear clothing in the morning? Got company?” At that, I quietly wrapped a hand around the doorknob.

  “What’s with the third degree, Alec? I’m wearing a damned sweater. Get out.”

  “Is it just a sweater, though? Because shifters talk, Reagan, and I’ve been hearing some really interesting gossip at The Pit about a certain Fae and my girl.”

  “You really trust rumors from the drunken idiots at The Pit? And I was never your anything. You’re disgusting. Now I’ll warn you one more time. Leave.”

  “You’re mine.” Alec’s voice was low, threatening. “And I better not hear another word about you even looking at another man.”

  A snorted laugh, then, “I’m getting a knife. I warned you.” For a moment, I lost track of the sounds and conversation. Then came a loud thud. Reagan gasped. “Let me down, now.” At the panic in her voice, ice shot through my veins. She didn’t sound in control. She sounded—

  “I’ve had enough of this game, Reagan. I’m an alpha, and alphas get what they want. Who they want. If I can’t have you, I’ll take you.”

  Splintering rage exploded through me. I wrenched the door open to find Reagan pressed against the wall, feet dangling, Alec’s hand locked around her throat. At the sight, I threw away every ounce of restraint. Allowed the demon inside to swamp my mind, control my actions, do whatever it pleased. Because Reagan.

  He had Reagan.

  With a roar, I was on Alec, ripping him away from her. My wings snapped out and the tips raked across his exposed back. He screamed and rushed me, but my feet danced. He couldn’t touch me. Time lost meaning then. Had undoubtedly stopped to watch me pound my fist into his face over and over. Even when he pleaded with me to let him go, I was insatiable. I wouldn’t relent, not until every last drop of blood was squeezed from his body.