We climbed higher, spiraling upward on a thermal, until the city shrank beneath us, until the stars seemed close enough to touch. The moon lit our path like a beacon, turning the landscape below into a patchwork of silver and shadow, fields and forests rendered in shades of gray. I felt Ellie's heartbeat gradually slowing as she relaxed into my arms, melting against me with a trust that made my chest ache.
The terrain below us shifted from urban sprawl to farmland, dark fields stretching endlessly in geometric patterns, occasionally broken by the lights of isolated farmhouses. The duffel bag swung gently beneath me, pendulum-like, and I adjusted my flight to compensate for its weight and movement. It barely registered, truth be told. I was built for this—the sky, the flight, the freedom of the open air. Every muscle in my body sang with the rightness of it. And having Ellie in my arms—her warmth against my chest, her scent filling my lungs with each breath—that felt right too, in a way I hadn't expected.
Hours passed, marked only by the slow rotation of the stars above us and the changing landscape below. Ellie had grown quiet, her breathing deep and even, and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep.
"Still with me?" I asked softly, not wanting to startle her.
"Mmmm," she murmured against my shoulder, her breath warm on my skin, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold. "Just watching. It's beautiful."
And it was. The forests grew thicker, dark expanses of trees broken occasionally by the glint of lakes and rivers reflecting the moon like shards of a mirror. Small towns appeared as clusters of light, tiny and insignificant from this height, then disappeared behind us as we flew onward. The air grew colder, thin, and sharp in my lungs, but I barely felt it. My body generated heat from the exertion of flight, the constant working of muscle and wing—and from the woman pressed against me, whose presence made my blood run hotter than any flight ever had.
Ellie snuggled closer, seeking warmth, and I held her tighter, protective, as we flew through the night toward whatever waited beyond. Her trust, her weight in my arms, the way she fit against me as if she'd been made for this—for me—it all felt too perfect, too right. And I knew, somewhere between the earth and the stars, that I would do anything to keep her safe.
Chapter 9
Ellie
Rickon flew through the night until the first hints of dawn appeared on the horizon, turning the sky from inky dark to gray. Oddly, I dozed, wrapped in his arms. He did run hot, it felt like being cuddled up against my own personal heater.
"Do you think this area will suffice?" Rickon jerked his chin toward a patch of forest up ahead. "There are no humans around for miles that I can sense."
Since I knew his senses were well beyond us mere humans, I gave a nod in accord.
I gazed down at the area below, taking in the sprawling canopy of trees that stretched out in every direction. Through breaks in the foliage, I could make out a small lake glinting in the pre-dawn light, its surface smooth as glass. A few clearings dotted the landscape here and there, natural breaks in the dense woodland, but there wasn't a single sign of civilization—no roads, no power lines, no rooftops. Just miles and miles of untouched forest. It was perfect. Based on the amount of time we'd been flying, I suspected we were in Ohio, perhaps Eastern Indiana.
I issued a snort of disdain at my pondering. I was the freaking president, for crying out loud. Shouldn't I know more about US geography?
Rickon angled toward a clearing set within a circle of pines, his wings adjusting with subtle shifts that I felt through his body. The descent was smooth, controlled. Nothing like the stomach-dropping plummet I half-expected. He banked slightly, circling once to survey the landing spot, then began his final approach.
The ground rushed up to meet us, but there was no jarring impact, no stumbling. His feet touched down on the grass with barely a whisper of sound, his powerful legs absorbing the landing. His wings gave one final flex before folding against his back, and then we were simply standing in the clearing, dawn breaking around us.
Not once during the entire night had I felt unsafe. Not even for a second.
"I think that was the best flight I've ever had," I half-teased as Rickon helped me out of the harness. "Even better than Air Force One."
Rickon grinned at that, a genuine smile that transformed his entire face. The expression softened the hard edges of his faux human features, made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and revealed a dimple I hadn't noticed before. God, he was handsome when he smiled like that.
The thought hit me with unexpected force, followed immediately by a flutter low in my belly that I absolutely did not want to acknowledge. Heat crept up my neck as I realized I was staring at him like some star-struck teenager.
I looked away quickly, busying myself with brushing imaginary wrinkles from my clothes. This was ridiculous. I'd put that part of myself on a shelf when I became president—there simply wasn't room for it anymore. Oh sure, there had been some tingles here and there. Seriously, was there a single heterosexual woman alive who wouldn't get all tingly whenmeeting Brad Pitt? But this felt different. More immediate. More dangerous.
I pushed the feeling aside firmly. He was just protecting me on this mission. That was all this was. Professional. Necessary. Nothing more.
We busied ourselves emptying the duffle and setting up camp, working in tandem like we'd done it all our lives.
The clearing Rickon had chosen was perfect. A small, flat area nestled between towering pines, with a natural windbreak of boulders on one side. A thick layer of pine needles carpeted the ground, cushioning the earth and insulating from the cold. Through the gaps in the canopy above, I could see the sky beginning to lighten even more, though sunrise was still at least an hour away.
We were deep in the wilderness, miles from any hiking trail or road. I heard the distant rush of water, probably a creek or small river, but otherwise the forest was eerily quiet. No traffic sounds. No voices.
I hoped we were far enough from any ranger stations or early-morning hikers. The camp stove would produce some smoke, and while it wouldn't be much, even a thin wisp rising above the treeline could draw unwanted attention. The last thing I needed was some well-meaning forest ranger or curious backpacker stumbling onto the President of the United States camping in the middle of nowhere with a seven-foot-tall alien disguised as a human.
I glanced over to said alien studying the directions for setting up the tent.
I blinked, making sure my eyes were focused enough to see correctly. Rickon wasreadingthe directions. Actually reading the English instructions printed on the side of the tent bag.
"Wait," I said, moving closer. "Can you read English?"
He looked up, those dark eyes meeting mine with what might have been amusement. "Yes."
