Chapter 2
Zed
Fifteen years ago
“ C ome on, dude.” Gabe elbows me in the ribs. “It’s getting late. Tomorrow’s a school day.”
I shrug him off, all my attention focused on the house on the other side of the fence. It’s late, but the lights are on in the second-floor bedrooms, so I know Cari is still awake. Her curtains are shut, but her silhouette sometimes passes by the window. “Go home, then. I just want to make sure her dad’s not going to blow up again.”
“What if he does? What are you going to do? Shift and get the cops called on you? Don’t be dumb.”
He’s right. I can feel my feral form pushing from the inside every time I think about how Cari’s dad yells her name. The way he spits it out like it tastes bad. I have to stop thinking about it, or I won’t be able to keep it inside.
I’m the worst in my class at shifting. Poor grades in control, completion, speed. I could definitely get myself in trouble if I let my emotions run high over this girl I just met.
“I need to know she’s safe. As soon as her light goes out, then I’ll head home,” I say stubbornly. I don’t know why I’m so stuck on this. Maybe it’s her wide, blue eyes or the way she’s selflessly devoted to her puppy or the scent of her cucumber shampoo, but there’s something about her that brings out my protective instincts.
“Fine. Ruin your own life. But remember, she’s just another human. She doesn’t get monster stuff. If she knew you were out here watching her, she’d think you were a creep,” Gabe says over his shoulder as he melts into the trees.
He’s right, and I hate him a little bit for reminding me. She’s just a human, and humans are mostly trouble. They always assume the worst of us.
But Cari didn’t, I remind myself as I stare at her window.
Her innocent question— Do you breathe fire? —changed my view of her. It wasn’t the na?ve question itself. It was her reaction to the answer.
Rather than taking it at face value and being glad that I’d keep my flames in check, she was upset that I didn’t have a choice about it. Upset for all dragons whose fire is suppressed even when they’d never cause anyone harm.
She’s different than other humans. Someone special.
Her bedroom light winks out. Time for me to head home.
But I don’t.
My mother lays into me when I get back to the hive to grab breakfast before school. “Where have you been? Just because you’re almost ready to fledge the nest doesn’t mean you can stay out all night without telling me where you are. I was so worried I almost took a flight over the forest until your father convinced me you were probably just running off some steam.”
“I know. Sorry, Mom.” I nuzzle her cheek apologetically, and she huffs, a puff of indignant smoke perfuming the air. I can’t tell her I was watching a human. She’d make sure I had hive chores for a month to keep me out of trouble.
“We’re roasting a boar tonight,” she continued. “You better be here to help.”
“Okay!” I stuff a couple hardboiled emu eggs down the hatch and grab some fruit to take with me. “See you after school!”
“At least polish your horns before you—you know what? Never mind. Your life, live it your way.” My mom sighs and waves me out the door.
The second I’m out of sight of the hive, I veer south, jogging along the bike path until I can cut through the woods toward Cari’s house. I just want to check on her. Make sure her bum of a dad isn’t yelling at her.
Don’t be a creep , Gabe’s voice echoes between my ears.
I’m not. I’ll watch her leave for school, and then I’ll go to mine.
But I don’t.
Sure, I watch her tie up her puppy in the yard and swing her light-blue backpack onto one shoulder. I see her climb into her dad’s pickup truck and put on lip gloss in the visor mirror as he pulls out. He doesn’t yell at her or anything. She’s fine.
But Radar isn’t. As soon as the truck is gone and her scent gets diluted in the morning breeze, he puts his pointy little nose in the air and starts crying for her. It’s the most heartbreaking sound I’ve ever heard. So I sneak through the fence and cuddle him for a while, sitting cross-legged by the house with my back up against the foundation until he stops howling.
“I know, buddy. I wish she was here, too. She’ll be back soon, though. You just have to be patient.” I pat him on the head and stand to go. Immediately, he whines the saddest little whine.
I sigh. I can’t leave him like this. I’m already late for school by now, so what’s another hour? I find a stick and play tug with him until he’s tired and falls asleep on my lap. Every time I try and move him, he cries in his sleep.
Guess I’m stuck here until Cari gets home, chained to the doghouse just like Radar.
“What are you doing here?”
I wake up to her unforgettable blue eyes staring down at me. I must have fallen asleep with Radar. He’s already awake and racing in circles around her ankles, winding the lead around her as he yips and jumps.
“Told you she’d be back, buddy.” A yawn takes over my grin.
I push myself up to standing, and those blue eyes widen as they take in my full height. Cari takes a startled step back, and then another. The dog lead tightens around her ankles, hobbling her, and she tips sideways. Her arms windmill like a cartoon character as she starts to fall.
I catch her just before she hits the ground. It knocks the breath out of her, but she’s fine. Radar’s fine, too, still bouncing around. Cari stares up at me, her chest rising and falling, feeling so right in my arms.
“Wow. Second time in twenty-four hours you’ve been in the right place at the right time to save me.”
“Lucky me.” My feral form flexes and preens, begging to be let out. I can feel my muscles start to swell, testing the seams of my clothing. It wants to impress her, but I have a feeling she won’t be impressed by the monster she just met yesterday stripping down in front of her. If she thinks I’m big now, she’d pass out if she saw my other form.
I carefully set her upright, avoiding eye contact as I kneel to untangle her feet from the lead. It’s pulled so tight, I can’t get it off over her sneakers. “Um, is it okay if I take off your shoes?”
“Sure!” she says, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry if they smell.”
If they smell anything like the rest of her, I won’t mind. I slip the light-blue Converse off her heels one at a time, guiding her bare feet through the loops of the leash to free them. Her feet are so small compared to mine. Like little treasures in my palm. I hate to let them go.
If I gave into my instincts, I’d take a deep breath to memorize their scent. And if she let me, I’d lick between her toes. But humans would definitely think that was weird.
Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a creep.
I relinquish her foot, hand her the sneakers, and stand up. “All done.”
When I can finally bring myself to look at her face, she’s biting her lip, flushed and embarrassed. Her tiny toes scrunch in the grass.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminds me. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, um. I was just walking by on my way to school,” I fib. “I heard Radar crying, so I stopped to pet him and lost track of time.” Hopefully she doesn’t remember that South Lincoln High School is on the other side of town.
“Awww. That was sweet of you.” She beams at me, still barefoot, and I drink up her approval. “I hate to leave him outside all day, but my dad won’t let him stay in the house.”
“No big deal.” I shrug. I’d skip school every day if she smiled at me like that. My mom would probably kill me, though. She’s might murder me for skipping one day, now that I think about it. “I have to go. My mom wants me to help roast a boar tonight, and if I don’t get home on time, I won’t be able to come save you tomorrow.” I laugh at my own joke, although I’m definitely not kidding.
Cari’s eyebrows rise. “A whole boar?”
I nod. “We take turns roasting it. We’re allowed to flame because it’s indoors in a special firepit.”
“Really? That’s so cool! Can I come watch, or is that weird?”
I grin at her. “Not weird. Just…most humans find it a little scary to hang out with fifty fire-breathing dragons.”
“I’m not scared,” she says, eyes shining with anticipation. But then, I already knew that Cari isn’t like most humans.
She and Radar come to the boar roast and have a great time. From that night forward, the two of them become regulars at hive feast days. We spend as much time together as we can in between school and sports and family obligations.
In October, Cari and Radar cheer at the finish line of my cross-country running meet. I get eighth place out of nine but feel like the grand champion.
In November, we build a bonfire at the beach for a bunch of our friends, after which Gabe admits that Cari is “all right for a human.”
In December, she bakes me Christmas cookies, which I eat even though the gluten in them screws up my flame for the next three weeks. In January, she sneaks into the forest to stargaze in the snow with me, lying side-by-side on a wool blanket, our pinky fingers barely touching.
I leave her favorite flowers, sunflowers, on her front porch for Valentine’s Day and watch from beyond the fence as she pretends she doesn’t know who left them so her father doesn’t get mad.
And in March, while we’re studying in the public library after school, I work up the nerve to ask her to the South Lincoln Vernal Revel, the monster equivalent of human prom.
She pauses, finger on her place in a book, to glance up at me. “Of course.”
I can’t believe it. “Not as friends,” I say, just to be sure. “I want a real date. A boyfriend-girlfriend date. No more meeting up in secret. I want everyone to know you’re with me. Even your dad.”
“Okay,” Cari says. She slides the book back and the shelf and boosts up on tiptoe. “Prove it. Kiss me right here in the middle of the reference section.”
“Uhh…” I grab the end of my tail so it will stop smacking nervously against the bookshelf behind me. Why didn’t I read more about human cultural practices before I asked one out on a date? I guess I put Cari into a different category and forgot she has these quirks. “Right now?”
“Right now.” She puckers her lips expectantly into a soft, pink bow.
“I’m not…I’ve never…I don’t know how,” I blurt out, cringing when a table of humans behind me starts snickering. “Our kind doesn’t kiss.”
“Never?!” Her mouth rounds into an O. I shake my head, mortified steam from my nostrils fogging up my vision. She giggles when I wave it away. “Well, we are going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?”
The thought of Cari’s lips pressed against mine? My feral form roars to be let out. I’m barely hanging on by a thread. One more flirtation from her, and she’ll be faced with a side of me I’m sure she’s not ready to see.
“Next Saturday. I’ll pick you up,” I gasp, and dash for the door. I barely make it to the forest before my wings burst out of my back, horns and claws and teeth lengthening as my body expands, shredding my school clothes.
“How am I going to make it through a whole evening with her?” I ask Gabe later, after I’ve done a few circuits around the forest and managed to shift back. “I’m going to pop out a second dick if she tries to hold my hand.”
He hands me a pair of pants from his backpack, shaking his furry head as I tug them on. “Why are you trying to date a human, anyway? Seems like more trouble than it’s worth. Find a nice dragon girl, and she won’t care that you suck at shifting.”
I snort a laugh, then cough on my own smoke. “You don’t know dragon females.”
“Oh, so that’s why? Can’t date your own kind, so you’re going for easier prey?” Gabe sounds bitter. Maybe he’s had some bad luck with a Bigfoot gal or something.
“No. There’s just…something about her. I keep wondering if she might be my…” I don’t finish the sentence because it’s a crazy thought.
Alokoi, my less-logical feral form growls inside my head. It has no problem putting the label on her, human or not. Mate.
Gabe, whose species doesn’t have fated pairings, shrugs. “My advice? Rub one out before you pick her up. Then you’ll have post-nut clarity and see her for the waste of time she really is. Or at the very least, you’ll be able to keep your dicks in your pants.”
“What bug crawled up your butt?” I ask him, giving him a playful shove.
“Nothing, man. Just not looking forward to the Revel.”
“Why not? Who are you bringing?”
“Not going. I’m just gonna watch.” His mouth tugs down at the corners, exposing his lower canines.
“You like watching,” I remind him. It always takes him time to warm up in social situations, but sometimes he feels comfortable enough to join in once he watches for a while.
He shrugs. “Depends on the view.”
I slap him on the back. “Let’s make it a good one, then. What should I wear?”