Alicja
We walked.
It wasn't a difficult journey. The grass rolled from one knoll to another. Ahead I saw a hill, with what looked like buildings on and around it.
"What's the city's name?" I asked.
"Woodstone," he said, his eyes on the ground, his shoulders slumped slightly.
"You're upset," I ventured.
"I'm upset," he agreed.
"Do you know what we can expect when we get there?"
He looked up at the city, and then to the sky, exhaling, "I'll have to talk to the Regent, who will ask me to accept my throne. He'll have you taken to a place where you can relax, and refresh yourself. I'll endure a lecture about my position and responsibilities. Someone or several someones will see to any of your needs. Things like that. I'll endure. You'll be in a gilded cage, basically."
Well, I did ask.
"You don't have to sugar coat it, Victor. I'm a big girl, I can take it. Give it to me straight next time," I told him.
He looked down at me confused, and then he grinned. "I'm grateful you still have your humor. I'll get us out of here. I promise. It's going to be a while."
"How long before this, change begins to happen?"
"Not long," he said, his voice serious again. He brooded for a while, and then said, "I've heard them scream. I don't know what happens during the change, and maybe I shouldn't say anything. But, I have heard them scream."
"I can see why the girls fall at your feet. It's this beautiful way you have of speaking that just sets my heart to fluttering," I said in my best southern accent.
He glanced over to me, and flashed a grin, but it vanished quickly.
"What? Don't like the southern bells?" I asked in the same voice.
"I don't think I know about them. The change in your speak is interesting," he said.
"The change in my speak?"
"In your voice," he corrected.
"Better," I agreed. "You're not going to accept your throne, are you," I said, dropping the accent.
"No," he said. He didn't say it harshly. It was just a point of fact.
"May I ask, why not? I mean, if you were king, then the Regent wouldn't have any say over you, or me or us."
He nodded, "Yes, true enough. But that won't stop me from getting you home. Have no fear of that. As soon as the change comes, we'll be leaving."
I've heard them scream.
I shook my head. But my fists clenched. I was not in control of any aspect of my life, right now. I had no say, no power. Frustration boiled in my veins.
Straighten up and pay attention, I told myself. You're not being abused, or raped or murdered. At least not yet. Clear your mind and observe. Remember your training.
Resolved I walked beside my Bond-mate, and tried to feel confident.
"So, you really have wings?"
He barked a laugh.
"What?" I asked, feeling a blush touch my cheeks. "Why is that funny?"
He shook his head, "I don't know. It just struck right, I guess. Yes, I really have wings."
He wasn't wearing his jacket any longer. He had pulled that off, and tore at his shirt. Was he trying to change then? Maybe.
"Can I see?" I asked.
He looked down at me and stopped walking.
"Please?" I added.
Shrugging then rolling his shoulders, he took off his shirt. I held back a gasp. I mean, I've seen naked men before. I've even seen good looking naked men before. This man, wasn't even naked.
Taking a step forward, I put my hand on his arm to pause him for a moment, and then moved to his side, so I could peek at his back. What I saw did make me gasp, but not in horror, per se.
At first I couldn't tell what I was looking at. His back looked as if it were shaped like a normal man's back, except it was mostly covered by a dark, nearly black area. This area, this dark area, the skin was marbled, like the scars from a terrible burn. From his shoulders all the way down past his belt line. I touched the area, and it was smooth and warm, and then I felt it shift under my palm.
Gasping I pulled back and looked to him.
"Sorry," he said, with a boyish grin. "Tickled."
My smile was reflexive. "It doesn't hurt, this?"
"No. It looks odd, I know, but that's how it is," he said, and lifted his shoulders. "Creepy?"
I glanced at his back again, and then shook my head, "Not creepy. Those are your wings?"
"Here," he said, guiding me back to be in front of him, "they can get a little wild coming out. I don't want to hit you."
"Oh, ok," I said, and took a couple of steps back, not sure what to expect.
He looked up at the sky, closing his eyes and looked like he was visualizing something. His brow furrowed and lines creased his forehead, then his left eyebrow raised as if in mild disbelief. Then his body shook, his massive shoulders flexed and then with a terrible sound -- a cracking, popping, snapping of bone and sinew -- his wings unfolded and stretched out. They kept growing and snapping â bones snapping into place, and there was the sound of canvas sails rising and filling with wind. I stepped back, my hands over my mouth. They continued to form and grow. Twenty feet, thirty. How much could there be?
"Oh, dear sweetness," I murmured.
Then they reached their full length and he flapped them. The smell of cool leather rushed over me from their wind.
They were ... dragon wings. That's what they were. They weren't like a bats, or a birds. Angled, long, and moving with grace and power. Nothing about them was clumsy or awkward. These wings radiated power and strength.
My eyes were stretched open and my mouth had formed a wide 'O'.
"But, how?" I moaned. "They're so big!"
I looked down, "What is that?"
"Hmm?"
"That?"
"Oh, that's my tail," he said.
"Oh," I said. I mean â well, less impressive. But it made sense. How could you work with wings like this and not have a tail to help balance and guide you? "And it comes out of the same area?"
"Out of my spine, yes," he said.
Then he stepped back, and an arrow appeared in the grass at his feet.
"Daelion is getting old, and soft," Victor said, plucking the arrow out of the ground. "He never use to be one to give warning shots."
"He doesn't want you to fly," I guessed.
"Yeah, well..." he said, and then his wings began folding back in, making all the cracking and popping sounds of bones breaking. He winced several times as they pulled in â his tail slid back in and up as well. In a few moments, he was putting the tatters of his shirt back on.
Once he finished I didn't know what I felt, or what to think. I mean, I knew this, right? I knew they were part dragon. But see, now I understood that no, no I really didn't know. I heard about it, but nothing more.
"So... you change into a dragon?" I asked, stepping forward again. "I mean, like a full sized dragon?"
"How many dragons have you seen?" he asked.
"Just the one," I said, suddenly flashing on the dream I had last night. "He talked."
"Oh? And was he full sized," he asked.
I turned away pouting, "As a matter of fact he was," I agreed. "So, you change into that?"
He smiled, "No, not like a full size talking dragon, no. My skin changes to a thick armor â most of my skin. The wings and tail. If I really push it, the shape of my head will armor up as well."
He started walking, and I fell in step beside him, "Our legends talk about a dragon which desired human servants. He needed us to be strong, able to travel great distances, and be able to defend ourselves. So, he altered us into what I am now."
"Why humans?" I asked. "Why not the Sidhe?"
"Because humans are more adaptable. In fact that's our greatest strength. The Sidhe, the Fae, the Dwarves, and other races across our lands, fight change. They don't like change in their lives, and they don't change much biologically."
"Sure," I said. "I get that. Is that why the Sidhe are immortal? They don't change?"
"They're not truly immortal. Though they do live a long time. I believe that Daelion is over a thousand years old."
"Wow. Seriously?" I asked, a bit awed.
"Yes, and he's considered a young one," he said. "A bit of a rebel as well." He examined the fletching of the arrow, and then tossed it to the side. "Doesn't make him less of an ass, or any less dangerous."
Over the next rise, the city of Woodstone spread out before us. There were a lot of people there.
"Are all of you, I mean, are you all dragons?" I asked, my voice awkwardly squeaking on the last note.
"There are quite a few, but no, not everyone is a shifter," he said.
I stopped and he turned toward me.
"You won't abandon me, will you? I mean..."
He stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. Looking deep into my eyes, he said, "As long as you don't tease me about my tail again."
I softly slapped his chest. "Brat."