“Sure.” I took his jacket, then his shirt when he removed that as well.
King Rory frowned at Arach's striptease, but Rivella and I knew what Arach was about to do. I would have done it as well, but it would have ruined my only dress, and I wasn't about to take it off. I could have covered my nudity in scales, but that again would have required removing my dress first. After all, I didn't want to stay in weredragon form for the rest of my visit.
Arach bent forward as scales covered his body, muscles bulged and strained his pants, horns emerged from his head, a long tail whipped out from the base of his spine, and wings sprouted from his back. His chest and shoulders tensed and then he leapt into the air. Great, leathery wings thundered as he rose higher. He hovered, searching the area, then pointed.
“To the west,” Arach called down to us. “Further in the Earth Kingdom. Looks like another village is sinking.”
“That's the village of Jurell!” King Rory cried and ran for the carriage. “Go! Move!” Then he shouted in Fey and jumped in the carriage.
Arach alighted on the ground beside me but only to sweep me up into his arms. “Shall we, my Queen?”
“Certainly. I'd join you in a half-form, but I don't want to ruin my only dress.”
Arach's stare went tender. “I would very much like to fly beside you.”
“Maybe we can go for a flight tomorrow.”
He grinned and launched back into the air. “I will hold you to that, Wife.”
“It's nice to fly like this too.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, then stroked one of his horns. “So handsome. I love you in this body.”
Arach grinned and his hand started sliding down to my rump.
“Whoa now!” I grabbed it and put it on my back. “Don't get grabby.”
His great wings thundered, taking us toward the sinking village, but he barely paid the ground any mind. He was too focused on nuzzling my cheek. “You smell so good.”
I started to smile.
But then he added, “Do you taste as good as you smell?”
“Now why did you have to ruin it by getting nasty?”
“Do you think your husband enjoying the way you taste is nasty?”
“No, I think mentioning it to me now, before we're ready for that, is nasty.”
“For what? I meant the taste of your lips.”
“You've tasted my lips,” I said. “At least, the ones up here.” I tapped my mouth. “Stop trying to be innocent. We both know what you were talking about.”
Arach chuckled. “Yes, very well. But I think we're ready for that, my precious.”
“Ugh! No, definitely not 'my precious.'”
“What's wrong with calling you my precious?” He was baffled.
“Nothing. Except it reminds me of something terrible in the future.”
“What?”
I bit my lip. “I guess I can tell you if I'm vague. It's a . . . play. One of the characters is a little bald, spindly-legged thing who calls a ring his precious in a grating voice.”
“I see.” He frowned at me. “I will come up with another endearment.”
“Here's a tip. Wait until I'm dear to you before you try again.”
Arach cocked his head as if this were a novel idea.
