by Tracy Wolff
Jaxon nods.
“Awesome. Can’t wait.” Flint rubs his hands together, then waggles his brows at me. “So how about that flying lesson now?”
54
Who Needs a Magic
Carpet When Your
Bestie’s a Dragon?
“So there’s one big problem with flying lessons for me,” I tell him ten minutes later, after I’ve run back to my room for all the cold-weather clothes I need to survive stepping outside in Alaska in March. Which, it turns out, are pretty much the same ones I needed in November, so yay me for missing the really cold months. At least there’s one point in the gargoyle column. “I don’t know how to shift, which means I have no wings. No wings, no flying.” I glance around. “But maybe we could get some of those assignment pictures over for Mr. Damasen?”
I try to hide how positively scared witless I am at letting him take me up in the air in something even less secure than the puddle jumper that brought me to Denali to begin with.
He smiles ruefully. “You know, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I honestly thought it might be fun, might give you a different perspective than before. We can do something else, but eventually you’re going to have to get in the air.”
My stomach is tied in all kinds of knots—most of them falling somewhere in the range of mildly scared to full-blown terrified. And yeah, there’s definitely a part of me that wants to back out of this mess. But Flint looks so dejected at the perceived rejection that I just can’t do it.
“No, that’s okay. Let’s do it.”
He stares at me through narrowed eyes. “Yeah?”
I take a deep breath, then blow it out slowly as I gather every ounce of my courage. “Yeah.”
“Awesome! You won’t regret it.”
I bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I already do.
“You ready?”
“Ready is a bit of an overstatement, but yeah. Sure. Why not?” I wave my hands expansively.
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he says with a laugh.
I roll my eyes. “Dude, this is the best you’re going to get.”
“We’ll see.”
He takes a couple of steps back, which makes me move several more feet in the other direction. More than several, really, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned at Katmere Academy, it’s that you really can’t be too careful when it comes to personal safety.
And then, just like that, Flint does it.
He drops down to all fours and, as I watch, stunned, the very air around him forms a kind of funnel. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I know something is, because the air surrounding him is starting to blur.
Caution has me taking another couple of steps backward, which turns out to be a good thing because the blurring is followed by a bright flash of light that nearly blinds me. Seconds later, a shimmer of rainbow colors engulfs him for five, six, seven or so seconds and then—standing right in front of me is a giant green dragon. And when I say giant, I mean gigantic. And also incredibly beautiful.
I didn’t really appreciate Flint in his dragon form when he was trying to kill me, but now that he’s staring down at me with what I’m pretty sure is the dragon version of his ridiculous grin, I can’t help but notice that he is a really, really good-looking dragon.
He’s tall and broad and muscular, with long, sharp horns that curve upward just a little and a ton of gorgeous frills of differing lengths around his face. His eyes are the same striking amber they are in his human form but with a cool, serpentlike slit down the middle, and his wings are enormous—the kind of enormous where several adult humans could take shelter under one. And his scales…I mean, I always knew he was green, but now I realize that he’s actually all the shades of green mixed together, each scale a different color overlapping in a pattern that makes him look like he’s shimmering, even when he’s just standing here in front of me.
Flint waits patiently while I look him over, but eventually he must get bored because he lowers his head and shows me his really wicked-looking teeth in a way that is definitely designed to get me moving. Which, okay, I get. But I’m beginning to realize we should have talked about a few things before he shifted, because it’s becoming more and more obvious that there’s at least one really big problem.
“We both know you’re gorgeous, so I’m not going to waste a lot of time telling you that,” I say as I slowly, carefully cover the ground between us. His eyes track my every move, though my compliment seems to appease him, because he finally hides those wicked teeth of his again.
“But I do have a question for you,” I tell him, even as I contemplate reaching out to pet him.
“You do know that he can’t talk like this, right?” Hudson asks from where he’s sitting on the front stairs, his sudden appearance startling me slightly. I guess “alone time” is done.
I give him a narrow-eyed look. “Of course I know that.”
“So how do you expect him to answer you?” Hudson asks. “Sign language? Interpretive dance? Smoke signals?”
“You could shut up and let me talk for a minute.” I snark. “How about that?”
Hudson holds a hand up in a “feel free” motion.
I turn back to Flint. “I’m not sure how you’re going to answer my question, but I guess we’re going to have to figure that out.”
He snorts a little, then tilts his head in a gesture I can only describe as royal. As in the royal “go ahead” decree.
“You said before that I could ride on your back. But…” I look him up and down, which pretty much amounts to looking up, up, and then up some more. “How am I supposed to reach your back? You’re gigantic. I mean, this is definitely not going to be like riding a horse.”
He snorts again, and this time there’s a whole lot of insult in it. Turns out dragons—or at least this dragon—are a lot more expressive than I ever imagined.
Flint eyes me for another couple of seconds, just, I think, to make sure I understand how insulted he is to be compared to a horse. Then he slowly lowers his head and nuzzles my shoulder with the bridge of his nose.
And just like that, I melt. Because when he’s not trying to kill me in his dragon form, Flint might actually be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I tell him, even as I reach up to stroke his nose and a few of his frills.
He makes a little noise, then presses closer, and I can’t help but laugh. “You made it very clear you don’t want to be called a horse, but you’re acting like a giant puppy dog right now.” To prove my point, I bring my second hand up to scratch the top of his head. I swear to God, Flint grins in response—or comes as close as a dragon can to smiling, super-sharp teeth and all.
I pet him for a couple of minutes, and I enjoy it at least as much as Flint does. But I’m also conscious of time quickly moving along, so finally I pull my hands back and step away.
The dragon snorts and moves forward to nudge me—a very clear signal that he wants more—but this time I give him only a cursory pat on the head. “You know, I would stand here all day and pet you if I could. I swear. But we have an assignment to do, and you still haven’t explained to me how I’m supposed to get on your back.”
Flint snorts again, then heaves a ridiculous sigh as he lowers himself to kneel on the ground.
“Yeah, that’s great. But there’s still no way I’m going to manage to make it onto your back.” Even kneeling, belly to the ground, his back is still a good eight to ten feet off the ground. I can’t even reach to the top of his back, let alone swing myself up onto it.
Flint tilts his head again, like he can’t believe we’re even having this discussion. I’m also pretty sure he rolled his eyes at me—which, not going to lie, doesn’t feel good. I mean, it’s one thing having a human Flint roll his eyes at me. It’s a whole different feeling when a dragon
does it. I don’t know why, but it is.
This time, when he leans down and nudges me, I don’t even bother to pet him. “I’m serious, Flint. We need to figure this out.”
“You could always throw a saddle and some really big stirrups on him,” Hudson suggests.
“If you’re not going to help, I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I retort before Flint nudges me again, a little more forcefully this time. “Hey! That hurt!”
He does it again. And then again, this time hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Flint!” I scowl at him as I stumble back a little more. “Will you please stop fooling around? You’re hurting me.”
He sighs, and it is the longest-suffering sigh I have ever heard from an animal—or a human, for that matter—in my life. This time when he lowers his head, he doesn’t nudge my shoulders. Instead, he nudges my thighs.
“Okay, look! That’s it! If you keep this up, I’m going back—” I break off on a scream as Flint finally manages to get his head between my knees.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Hudson comments wryly.
“Don’t start!” I snap, because the only thing worse than dealing with the fact that
a guy who isn’t my boyfriend very unexpectedly has his head between my legs (even if he is in dragon form) is dealing with it while Hudson looks on.
I start to say something else but end up letting out a little scream as Flint tosses me up and back a little, so that I land, ass first, on the center of his neck.
Seconds later, he’s lifting his head, and I’m trying not to scream as I slide down, down, down his neck, over spikes that turn out to be not that spiky at all only to slam, face-first, onto his back.
55
Ain’t Nothing but
a Wing Thing
I just lay there, arms wrapped around his sides, and try to come to grips with what just happened to me. Eventually, though, Flint gets restless and starts to stand up, even though I am in no way seated appropriately.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I cry out as I try to shift myself around on a moving dragon—which, as it turns out, is even harder than it sounds. Especially when Hudson is laughing his ass off at me.
This time Flint’s snort sounds a little more like a growl.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I tell him as I finally manage to get myself situated properly, facing forward with my legs straddling his back and my arms wrapped around his neck.
He snorts again, obviously unimpressed with my apology. “Look, I said I was sorry. Now it seems really obvious what you were doing. But at the time, it didn’t. So I’m sorry I thought…whatever it was I thought.”
Flint twists his head around just enough for me to see the disdain on his features.
“You know what? Enough is enough. You want to be annoyed with me, fine. But how was I supposed to know? I’ve never ridden a dragon before. I’ve never even been this close to a dragon before except, you know, when you were digging your talons into my back. So let’s just call it even and get on with the lesson, okay?”
No snort this time, but he does give a regal head toss that tells me my apology is sorely lacking. And also that he’s over it, which is good, because so am I.
Seconds later, Flint bucks his head back in a warning that I don’t understand and then shoots straight into the sky.
I scream again, louder this time, then wrap my hands around Flint’s throat in what could probably best be described as a death grip. If I don’t loosen up soon, it will probably end badly for both of us, but as he zooms to the very top of the castle, there’s nothing I can do about it.
So I just close my eyes, hold on, and pray I don’t fall off.
“Bugger this!” Hudson growls, and I realize he’s now sitting right behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, even as a scream rises in my throat. “I thought you were comfortable on that step.”
“You do realize I’m actually in your head, right? So where you go, I go. It’s kind of a thing.”
“I know that. I just didn’t expect you to decide to ride Flint along with me. It doesn’t really seem your style.”
“As it turns out,” he answers stiffly, “I’ve never ridden a dragon before. I thought it would be…”
“Terrifying?” I ask as Flint does a vertical spin as he continues to fly higher.
“Fun.” The word comes out a little breathless, which I can totally understand. My breath is in my throat, too.
Thankfully, it turns out Flint can breathe even with my death grip, and he takes a few loops around the castle and the sky above it. It’s not exactly a flying lesson, but now that my brain is functioning again, I realize he’s just trying to relax me a little. Get me used to flying, even if it is on a dragon.
I’m positive it won’t work—it’s super scary flying around this castle that’s built on the side of a mountain—but eventually I manage to keep my eyes open for an extended period of time. And when I do, I nearly squeal in delight because, scary or not, it’s absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful up here.
The sky is crystal blue, the mountain is covered in glistening snow, and the castle looks like something out of a movie…or a dream. Its gray and black stones provide a startling contrast to the white snow, its parapets and towers stretching high into the bright blue sky.
Flint turns his long, majestic neck so he can glance back and check on me, and I hold on tight, expecting us to quickly drop back down to the ground.
But I totally underestimated Flint—big surprise—because instead of heading for the ground, he takes a tight turn in midair and heads straight up, up, up into the sky.
“Oh my God! What are you doing?” I screech, but he doesn’t so much as look back at me. Instead he just goes faster.
I expect Hudson to complain, but when I glance at him, he’s got a full-blown grin on his face. Then again, it’s not like he’s got the same fear of dying that I do…
We’re back to flying vertically now, and I bite back a scream as I hold on as tightly as I can with both my arms and my legs. Not going to lie, it’s completely terrifying. But it’s also exciting and exhilarating and the view—when I finally manage to pry my eyes open—is absolutely breathtaking.
A few years ago, I watched a documentary called The Art of Flight. It was about snowboarding in the most difficult and breathtaking locations in the world, and Denali was one of the places spotlighted in the movie. They took a helicopter up to some of the areas that are off-limits to normal climbers and skiers and made a big deal about walking in places where no other human being had ever been.
At the time, I hadn’t understood what the big deal was. But now, holding on to Flint as I get a dragon’s-eye view of those very areas, all I can think is, Of course.
Of course they wanted to see this place that so few people have ever seen.
Of course they wanted to capture it on film so others had a chance to feel what they felt.
Of course it’s worth anything—worth everything—to get here. Right here.
And suddenly, something wild inside me breaks free. It claws its way out of the deepest part of my soul, yearning toward the sky, toward the snow, toward freedom.
I gasp, because for that one second, my body wasn’t under my control. It belonged to something—to someone—else, and I don’t have a clue how to find my way back.
Of course, Flint chooses that moment to change direction, going into a deep dive that has the wind in my face and my heart in my throat. We’re racing down even faster than we came up, and as terror whips through me, whatever raised its head inside me settles back down.
I want to follow it, want to figure out if it’s the gargoyle or something else—something worse—but I can’t when every ounce of concentration I have is focused on hanging on to Flint and praying that we don’t crash.
We don’t, but because he’s Flint, he can’t resist doing a series of loop-the-loops in the middle of our dive. I’m not sure what it says about our speed that I don’t even have to worry about falling off, even when we’re upside down, because centrifugal force keeps me plastered to his back the entire time.
In fact, by the time his third set of somersaults comes around, I don’t even have to close my eyes. Instead, I just laugh with Hudson and enjoy the ride.
Eventually, he starts flying slowly by various architectural elements I recall from Mr. Damasen’s list. I pull my phone from my coat pocket and quickly snap several pictures of each feature as we fly by.
When I finish taking the last picture, I put my phone back in my pocket and zip it up. Flint gives me another quick look over his shoulder and, I swear, shoots me a surprisingly wicked grin, considering he’s a dragon. That’s the only clue I have to grip his neck tightly before he’s soaring back up into the sky again, spinning a bit as we go.
And then, when I think we can’t go any higher—he stops flapping his wings entirely.
We freeze in the sky for a split second without his strong wings pushing us forward, and my breath catches in my throat. I have an idea what he’s about to do next, and I can feel the scream building in my chest. But before I can open my mouth and set it free, Flint flips his large body in midair, and suddenly…we’re diving straight for the ground, wings tucked tight against his body as we continue to pick up speed.
I’m screaming like I’m on the scariest roller coaster ride in existence. Even Hudson gives a shout from behind me, his arms reaching around my waist and tugging me against his chest as though to protect me. And just like that, the wild thing deep inside me is set free again, and I’m laughing so hard, I can barely catch my breath.
At least until we get closer to the ground, because Flint’s showing absolutely no sign of slowing down despite the fact that the tree line is looming awfully close. My stomach clenches, and a quick glance behind me shows that even Hudson looks a little nervous. But Flint hasn’t steered us wrong yet, so I just take a deep breath and wait for whatever he’s going to do next.