“Would you like to find out?” His brow arcs up and his answering grin is a taunt.
“I’ve never backed down from an honest challenge, so if you’re trying to intimidate meeeeeeeeeeee—”
My words cut off as I’m swept off my feet, Draven holding me tightly between his arms, as if I weigh nothing. He bounds forward, I grasp my hands around his neck, tucking my face in as his wings flap wide, and suddenly, we’re airborne.
His wings catch and buffet us, first rushing us in one direction and then another before we stabilize. The air gusts across my face, and my eyes are still firmly closed.
“You have to look if you want to see where we’re going, otherwise I might as well have transported us there!” he calls over the roar of the wind.
I force my eyes open and blink against the gale. The fear eases away as I look out upon the vast Forge, nestled against the mountains, castle walls, and the volcano. Exhilaration fills me to the brim instead, nearly making me laugh out loud in astonishment. I’ve never been so high up in the air and it’s absolutely amazing. Freeing beyond measure, though when the wind buffets us, a swoop races through my gut and I grasp hold of Draven more tightly, catching the smirk on his lips as I cling to him. We follow a trail that wends forty feet below us down a small decline where there’s a large building I haven’t seen before, nestled between the Forge and the volcano. Draven and I leave shadows across the wild golden fields that blanket the ridge leading down to it, the space less manicured than the rest of the Forge.
He moves us with such flowing ease we might as well be streaking through water. Hesitantly I move one trembling hand from around his neck, holding tight with my other.
I let one arm open wide, hand spreading until the air is slipping through my fingers. It feels as though I can grasp hold ofthe wind and make it submit. I’m surprised when a small laugh escapes my chest, a burden releasing its binding on my ribs. My attention shifts from my outstretched hand to two hawks flying just beyond it. Something shifts in Draven’s chest, and I find him chuckling, his smile so bright I swear it could warm even the cold recess where my heart once ticked.
“What?” I shout over the wind, though a grin tugs at my lips. I can’t stop myself from taking in his dark hair flying like a banner, the defined shape of his jaw, the stark drop of his cheekbones, and the wild lavender in those eyes. His smirk softens, some of the rowdiness edging away.
“I’ve never seen you smile before. Not really.” His gaze flicks to my mouth.
“Did you think I’d be afraid?” I grin in challenge and his own smile brightens. A heat strikes between my legs. “Go faster!”
The mischievousness returns to his expression in full force, pupils widening, grin so broad it leaves crinkles in his narrow cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He clenches me more snugly against his chest, and we burst ahead, his wings working in quickening tandem. He dips us down, banking hard to the right. My hand no longer lazily glides through the wind like a buffeting sail. Instead, I’m clasping tight to him again, a little thrill-loving sound escaping my throat as he spirals us into a corkscrew dive, spinning us closer and closer to the ground before rocketing back up, racing the sun.
As we reach the height of this magnificent arc he hollers, “Hold on!”
My smile drops along with my stomach and suddenly I’m trying to climb him like a cat as we plummet straight toward the ground. His laughter in my ear is infectious. Even though I’m nearly certain he has a death wish, I stop fighting the fear, letting my hands drift skyward. His eyes widen, he grips meharder, and then he spins through the air, barrel-rolling us until up is down again and again.
My hair is in my face and mouth. Still, all I can do is laugh about it. He darts us down along the volcanic river, the heat diminished but still roasting this close, before pushing up, summiting the hill. His wings rush forward to slow us, as the building’s rotunda comes into view. Draven’s feet skid across the space in front of it, and he finally settles my quaking legs to the ground.
I collapse to my backside in a fit of laughter as he stands over me, hands on his knees, panting. He shakes his head, a grin still on his lips, looking at me as if he’s never seen anything quite like me. Standing straight again, he arches his back, his wings drooping to the black sand.
“I haven’t gone that fast in a while, my shoulders hurt.” His hand is against his chest, steadying his heart. “I cannot believe you liked that.”
“Gods, it’s the most fun I’ve …” I trail off. I wasn’t about to say “in years.” I was about to say “ever.” I turn tack, not wanting to put too much into that fever-pitched moment, or into him. “It was so freeing.” I heave out a breath, putting my hand flat over my brows to block the sunlight reflecting off those oil-spill downy wings. “I can’t wait to have my own.”
His smile falters a bit. “Not everyone gets wings, but I’ll be surprised if you don’t.”
I admire the way his shine in darkest teals and deepest purples depending on how the sun hits them. “I’ll hate it if I don’t.”
His wings pull tight, no longer drooping, and I wonder what it feels like to have extra limbs like that. Ones you weren’t born with. “Well … if you don’t, we’ll just have to get you a pet wyvern.”
I grimace. “Not the same.”
His head tilts, his grin like a wildcat’s. “Or you can always ride me.”
My cheeks heat. “Judging by how out of breath you are, I don’t think you could handle me.”
His pupils blow out, and he gives a hard smile at the challenge. “Oh, Rune, there’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Heat ignites between us, as unbearably scorching as if the volcano suddenly erupted once more. But this burning is just us.
“Finally, he deigns to show his fucking face.” A winged druid approaches us, making me jump. He’s at least fifteen years our senior, with coal-dark eyes and warm brown skin. His arms are crossed in front of his muscled chest, and he’s glaring daggers at Draven. “You’re five hours late, but at least you’ve got your flight training done. Time for sparring, and I’ve had hours to brood on it.”
He looks to me, expression pinched as if he’s waiting for me to explain myself.
“This is Rune.” Draven buffers between our staring contest. “She’s the—”
“Other World Arcana,” the druid fills in. “I know, you won’t shut up about her.” The druid grins in satisfaction when he notices how Draven can no longer seem to meet my eye, clearing his throat and running his hand through his hair instead. The man introduces himself. “I’m Kenzo, not Ken, and only my two-year-old nephew gets to call me Zo. I’m responsible for teaching this idiot how to fight and win. His father pays me well for it.”
