And I don’t care about the other men, if they respect and protect her and she needs them too, so be it.
Who am I to question the bonds that weave around us, pulling tighter and more urgent in this strange place?
I am hers.
“So, you’re OK if I go with Donovan?”
I look at the centaur, then back to my nymph.
—Go. Be safe—
She scrambles on to the centaur’s back. “Be careful with her,” the professor growls at the boy.
“I’ll take care of every single part of her,” the centaur replies with a wide grin. The professor and I wear similar expressions as they take off at a gallop.
We don’t like this.
Even though the horse does truly seem to care for her, can a person exist alone in this place for years and not lose their mind?
My eyes keep tracking the Nymph. She’s barely visible now.
“Ludo?”
I don’t move my gaze to turn it to the professor, so he comes and stands beside me. “Ludo, do you have any idea what you might shift into? Donovan shifted into a creature from his family line, so I imagine that’s what we’ll do as well.”
I give my head a shake in the negative.
“OK, well, I know that there are several creatures in my familial ancestry that are not quite as harmless as being a half-horse. Wolves, harpies, berserkers, that kind of beast. Becoming a monster is a distinct possibility, so if I shift, keep Theo away from me. Whatever it takes, don’t let me hurt her.”
I give him a long look, then nod, a promise passing between us.
“Thanks. Next on the list, Drakeward.” The professor gives me a half-grimace, half grin. “Dread to think what he’ll be.”
The professor is right; shifting into a centaur is one thing, but there are many dark and terrible monsters running in the DNA of witches.
Now Theo is no longer visible, I turn and look at the Elite. The bones in the blonde devil's cheek are shifting.
“Cosmo!” the professor says, his tone sharp. “Your face.”
“You think I don’t feel that?” he hisses back, dropping to his knees. “It’s like my skeleton is on a medieval rack, getting slowly stretched by the fucking public executioner.”
I am pleased with the image of him suffering that way.
Twisting his head from side to side, Drakeward groans again. “Fuck. This.” The next second, the air around him starts to shimmer. It’s subtle at first, but increases as something moves under his skin.
The professor and I take several steps backwards as Drakeward begins to dig into the white dirt and rocks. When he lifts his hands again, long, obsidian claws are in the place of fingers. His features are contorting, full of agony, but also something else. Something ancient and powerful.
The way his spine is bowing, looks impossibly painful. Then the Elite’s clothing just… melts away, dissolving into a slick of viscous, black liquid that coats his rapidly expanding frame.
The process shifts again as the oil hardens on his skin, forming reptilian scales that shine gold in the white light. He screams as the curve of his jaw elongates.
The shimmer around his body boils into a molten gold blaze.
And he just keeps growing.
The rasping sounds in the beast’s throat build until it has no human left.
His tail whips around, lashing and striking, as the dragon draws itself to its full height and unfurls immense, leathery wings, stretching them to their full span.
