Perhaps in this moment, it didn’t need to.
The most exhilarating aspect of it all, however, was Evira soaring above the three of us.
In full dragon form glory.
She was an absolute vision of majesty, ferocity, and beauty.
Sleek, overlapping scales shimmered with frosted cobalt and icy cerulean, like she was sculpted from living frost and stone combined. Her eyes glowed with arctic light. Veins of her magic pulsed around her chest and along the edges of her wings. And the ridges along her head and neck formed elegant, blade-like spines. The wings themselves as she flapped them with graceful force were truly mammoth and etched with fractal patterns.
She would soar ahead every few minutes, which would result in the three of us speeding up, then she’d slow and turn her head and fly right over us. It would then set Zayn off and he’d perform a stunt for her viewing pleasure.
Speaking of such a thing, as Winter roared past me, trying to catch up to Evira, I noted an alteration to Zayn’s form and speed, making me swing my head to the left.
Oh no.
He was smirking at me.
He reduced his speed and then left my sightline.
Thankfully, I regained sight of him in my mirrors.
No.
No. He was not doing what it seemed like.
I lifted one hand off the steering wheel and flicked a spark of my citrine magic out the window and downwind to him, using it to carry my voice on the wind.
“You do this and there will be punishment forthcoming, rageling.”
He jolted as my words reached him.
His eyes met mine through the rearview mirror.
But then they lit up, flaming with his fuchsia fire.
It had done nothing to dissuade him.
In fact, it had actually served to fuel him.
Of course he’d turn a possible reprimand from me into a delight. He knew I’d meant it in an erotic sense, for it to occur during our planned group liaison later this very night.
It certainly showed just how comfortable he’d become with exploring his submissive side.
Although, that didn’t exactly serve me well currently.
Damnation.
A wisp of frost brushed across my right cheek and I turned to see Winter now beside my window, keeping pace with my car again.
“It’s seventy-thirty if he makes it, because he never preps a stunt like this—jumping something big—beforehand. He just goes on impulse. Go figure. But I’ve got you. Keep your speed steady, though. Don’t react by decelerating or anything.”
“Understood.” I gave a nod, a whole lot of intrigue sparking.
We reached the peak of a little hill—and that was when Zayn made his move.
He used it as a ramp, just as Winter and I hit the decline, to propel his motorcycle off the ground, accelerating and pushing forward with his body angled appropriately, and then he was soaring over the length of my car.
Whoops and hollers reached my ear, making me smile in spite of his unruly antics and the risk to my darling Lamborghini.
