The only advantage he had was that he knew where she was supposed to be the next day: meeting with the witches on loan from the Collective.
He knew they weren’t given full security clearance, so they would be confined to the publicly accessible research facility in Mackinaw. It was a short flight away. Not that it mattered. He would have crossed oceans to apologize to her.
Throwing on his usual jeans and a plain black t-shirt, both specially designed to accommodate his wings and tail, Vael threw himself off of his perch as soon as the sun crested the horizon. He didn’t know when her appointment was, so he was determined to be there as soon as the doors opened, just in case.
As it happened, he still somehow missed her in the crush of bodies streaming in to work that morning. There were too many entrances to the huge, glass-walled building, and without knowing exactly where she was supposed to meet the witches, he could only circle the building restlessly, a hunter on the prowl.
It didn’t do him a lick of good. Only the faint trace of her soft, clean scent by the main doors told him that she wasthere,but it still wasn’t enough.
Hours passed. He posted up on a stone bench beneath a leafy tree, his elbows on his knees and his eyes glued to the doors. Of course he considered barging into the building to hunt her down, but being one of the Wing meant he had certain responsibilities: mainly not scaring the piss out of all the soft-skinned researchers inside.
His tail lashed back and forth behind him.Hurry up, t?ht.
Passersby gave him a wide berth. They might have anyway, seeing the circular tattoos on his arms, but his clear agitation didn’t help things.
Dragons often affected an easy-going demeanor. They had a reputation for being territorial, acquisitive, and quick-tempered, so many of his kind went out of their way to hide their true nature until they got whatever it was that they wanted. Artem was great at that. Easy-going, charming. He hid his true nature under a veneer of aggressive affability, just as Taevas did.
But Vael was too old to hide and too frank to give a shit what anyone thought of him.
Besides Hele.
He was torn up with the need to fix what he’d accidentally broken, and he didn’t care if he looked like he was a half-step away from lighting the whole godsdamned research facility on fire because of it.
Fire’s not a bad idea,he thought, mulish and increasingly impatient. The longer he waited, the more he felt like a bomb about to explode.If I set off the alarm, she’ll have to—
There. A flash of pale skin. The flutter of a long, lavender dress. The tell-tale glow. His Hele.
Vael shot up from his bench so fast, he scared a bird out of the tree behind him. He didn’t notice its indignant squawk as he hopped over a hedge and jogged around people to catch up with her.
Gods, she’s so pretty.
He loved to watch her walk. Hele just sort of… floated. Her hair moved on its own, sometimes reaching high with bursts of lightning through the strands, sometimes in a current around her back. Today it was down. The stillness was unusual, but it let him briefly admire just how long and silky the strands were when they swayed.
Her long, lean form moved fluidly. Her gait was almost unnaturally smooth, but she never seemed to notice when people stopped to look at her, their mouths open and eyes wide.
Henoticed. Vael glowered at all the gawkers as he closed the distance between them. As soon as they made eye contact with him, they scattered like frightened little mice.Not worthy of my Hele.
She was just turning off the main path when he caught up to her.
“Hele!” He gently cupped her arm, stopping her. Her skin was so, so soft under his palm. “My Hele, please—”
She whirled around. Immediately, white hair fanned out around her, sparking and snapping with electricity. Without thinking, he mantled his wings, meeting her agitation with his own. The few people unwise enough to walk near them immediately swerved out of their way.
“Vael.” Hele crossed her arms and took a deliberate step back. He was forced to let go of her arm, though he wanted nothing more than to pull her into the safety of his embrace. He wasn’t good with words, buttouch…He knew how to speak with his hands, his actions — if only she’d listen.
She glanced at his spread wings and scowled. Her tone was arch when she demanded, “What are you doing here? You should be on duty.”
“I have the week off.” He swallowed hard. Was the skin around her dark, fathomless eyes a little puffy? Did she look tired? Was her soft, floaty dress a little wrinkled, like she’d thrown it on without thinking this morning?
His heart gave a painful, guilty twist.My poor Hele.
“Good for you,” she replied, already turning away. “Enjoy your vacation.”
“Hele!” He lunged forward and spread his wings again, stopping her from stepping around him. “Please, I just want to talk to you. We left things badly last night and it’s killing me.”
She stopped abruptly and stared at him for the span of several heartbeats before she tightened her arms. Her black eyes shifted away from his face to study the ground. “There is nothing to talk about. You don’t Choose me. Alex says that happens sometimes and I should move on.”
He watched her elegant throat work for a moment as she found her words. Quietly, with raw feeling, she went on, “I know that it is— that I am not being fair when I get angry with you for it. But I am bruised, and I do not want to talk about it any more. My feelings are mine. You do not get to know them, not when you do notwantthem.”
