My breath comes out heavier now…deeper.Theair smells different.It’ssharper…richer.MyDrake’snose is more sensitive than mine—all his senses are.
And through it all,Ican feel him rising.
He surges forward, filling the spaceI’veopened, his presence expanding until it presses against every part of me.It’slike stepping back inside my own body and letting someone else take the reins.
I hate this part—the loss of control.Theway my thoughts start to blur at the edges as his instincts bleed into mine, stronger and more certain than anythingIcan muster.
Careful,Iwarn, even as my grip on myself starts to slip.Don’tscare her.
I will not,he answers.
I don’t have time to question that because he’s already there—already taking over.
My vision shifts, colors deepening, edges sharpening asIsee the world through him instead of myself.Theroom feels smaller still now—the ceiling too low and the walls too close—but he doesn’t care about that.
He cares about one thing—her.
Elowen.
I feel it the moment he focuses on her.Ifollow his gaze—becauseIcan’tnotfollow it—and see her through his eyes.
Elowen is still sitting on the edge of the bed, exactly whereIleft her.Shehasn’t moved but the tension in her small, curvy body has doubled.
Her hands are clenched in her skirts now, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow.Hereyes are huge, even bigger than usual, fixed on me—onhim—as she takes in the change.
Fear flickers in the sky-blue depths but she doesn’t run or scream—she just watches.
Something in my chest loosens just a little.Mostwomen seeing aDrakeShiftfor the first time are scared speechless—they run for the hills.Butthe curvy little priestess has courage—I’llgive her that.
Good—she’s brave,Ithink—or maybe it’shimthinking it.It’shard to tell anymore becauseI’mnot fully in control now—not really.
AllIcan do is watch and hope to hell my other half remembers whatItold him.Becauseright now he’s the one standing in front of her.
AndI’mjust along for the ride.
25
ELOWEN
I have no idea whatIwas expecting.
Something large, certainly.Somethingdangerous.Somethingthat might send me running for the door despite everythingI’vesaid about wanting to meet him.
But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this.
I watch asTheronbegins to change and at first, it doesn’t seem real.It’stoo much, too fast—too strange for my mind to grasp.HisbodyShiftsand reshapes—growing and stretching in ways that should be impossible.Ihear the faint, awful sound of bones moving beneath skin, of joints sliding into new positions, andIcan’t help the small gasp that escapes me.
ButIdon’t look away—Ican’t.WhatI’mseeing is mesmerizing—Icouldn’t look away even ifIknew the sight would make me blind.
Theron’s shoulders broaden, his spine arching as something pushes outward from within him.Hisskin changes next—darkening, hardening, though not in the wayIexpect.It’snot rough or jagged.Instead, it gleams as though light is catching on metal—each new scale forming with a subtle shimmer.
Tarnished silver.Thecolor of his scales is the same color of his eyes.Iwonder why that is.
Whatever the reason, it’s beautiful.Thecolor looks aged and ancient but timeless at the same time—like something that has seen time pass and endured it.
His hands change—fingers lengthening and sharpening into claws that catch the light as they flex.Hislegs reshape beneath him—stronger, thicker, and built for power rather than balance.Andthen—his back…
I hear a tearing sound, not painful but forceful, as wings unfurl from him in a sudden, breathtaking sweep.
