Chapter 13 Maximus #2
Kaspar did as I asked, nestling into me with a soft exhale.
His body relaxed incrementally against mine, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he pressed his face into my chest. A tuft of his hair tickled my chin, soft as silk.
I found myself inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of him—lavender soap and something uniquely Kaspar that reminded me of sunlight.
“Your heart is beating very fast for someone who isn’t scared,” Kaspar mumbled against me, his breath warm through my shirt. One hand moved to clutch a fistful of the navy linen shirt I wore under my leather vest.
I couldn’t help but smile as I stroked his hair, letting the strands slip between my fingers. “I have a rather beautiful man sitting on my lap, so you’ll have to forgive my excitement.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and I felt rather than saw his smile against my chest. My hands moved to his thighs, rubbing up and down the firm muscle.
“Squeeze your legs super tight around me,” I said, giving his thighs a gentle pat.
Kaspar complied, his legs tightening around my hips. He lifted his head just enough to meet my eyes, a mischievous glint in them.
“If you wanted me to wrap my legs around you, Maximus,” he whispered, “there are more comfortable places than a ship’s railing.”
I gave his ass a firm slap, the sound sharp. Don’t bloody tempt me.
Kaspar squeaked, his body jolting against mine. “What was that for?” he yelped, eyes wide with indignation.
“Three…” I warned, my voice low and playful as I tightened my grip around his waist.
His fingers dug into my shoulders. “Wait, what are you—”
“Two…”
He squealed, immediately smushing his face against my chest again, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. “Max—”
“One!”
I pushed off from the railing, launching us into open air.
The world beneath us disappeared. My stomach lurched upward as gravity claimed us, pulling us down through misty cloud after cloud.
The rush was exhilarating—that perfect moment of weightlessness before the line caught us, when we were nothing but two bodies surrendered to the sky.
The wind roared in my ears, cold and sharp, whipping my hair into a frenzy around my face. My blood sang with the familiar thrill, every nerve ending alive and electric.
I still remembered with crystal clarity my very first sky-drop—during my first posting with Sunada’s Eldritch fleet, on my very first flight. I’d known right then I had made the right choice—that I belonged to the skies.
The safety line snapped taut with a jerk, and we swung in a wide arc beneath the ship’s hull, the wind tearing at our clothes and hair.
Kaspar’s continuous scream vibrated against my chest, his arms and legs clamped around me with crushing force.
His fingers clawed at my back, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death.
His entire body trembled against mine, his heartbeat a frantic drumming I could feel through both our chests.
As we swung beneath the ship, I pulled back, catching Kaspar’s chin with my hand, lifting it gently. His eyes were still squeezed shut, his features contorted in terror. Copper strands of hair danced wildly around his face, glinting gold.
“Open your eyes,” I said.
Very, very slowly, he unpeeled his left eyelid, then his right.
The morning light caught the flecks of gold in his irises, making them shimmer like sun-kissed leaves. His pupils were blown wide with adrenaline as he took in our position—suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, nothing but air beneath us and the massive hull of The Black Wraith above.
“Oh my goddesses,” Kaspar gasped. His gaze darted frantically around, taking in the vast expanse of sky, the very distant ocean below, the clouds drifting past us like spectral ships. “Holy freakin’ goblin toes! We’re—we’re—”
“Flying,” I finished for him, unable to keep the joy from my voice.
His breath came in quick, shallow pants, his fingers digging painfully into my shoulders. But gradually, as we continued to swing gently at the end of our tether, the rigidity in his body began to soften. His death grip loosened, just slightly.
“This is—” He started, then stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t even—”
A sudden gust caught us, sending us spinning in a lazy circle.
Kaspar yelped, burying his face against my neck for a moment before daring to look again.
When he pulled back, his expression had transformed.
Terror still lingered in the tightness around his eyes, but something else had awakened there too—a wild, primal exhilaration.
“I can’t—” he whispered, voice trembling. “I’ve never felt so alive. Or so close to death.”
His face was flushed, hair whipping wildly around his features, eyes glittering with unshed tears. His lips parted slightly as he drew in deep, hungry breaths of the pristine air.
Despite his fear—or perhaps because of it—he’d never looked more beautiful to me. Raw emotion transformed his features, leaving only the purest expression of life I’d ever witnessed. My chest swelled with something powerful and dangerous, something I wasn’t ready to name.
The line continued its pendulum swing, carrying us through the sky in a graceful arc.
I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the sensation of weightlessness, the cold rush of air against my skin, and Kaspar’s warm body pressed against mine.
This was freedom in its purest form—suspended between earth and sky, untethered from all but a single lifeline.
When I opened my eyes again, something caught my attention. A flicker of red in the distance, barely visible through the wisps of clouds. Too dark in color to be the sun’s light. I squinted, focusing on that spot. There it was again—a flash of crimson against the pale morning sky.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
No. Surely fate wasn’t going to be this kind to us.
My pulse quickened, thundering in my ears almost loud enough to drown out the whistling wind. In all my years of flying, I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen one. The day after that first time, I’d had ink tattooed on my arm.
“Kaspar! Look over there!” I pointed toward the flash of red, my hand trembling with excitement. “Do you see that?”
He twisted in my arms, following the direction of my finger with confusion. “What?”
Before I could answer, something massive moved through a distant cloud bank.
The mist parted like a curtain, revealing a glimpse of scaled crimson hide that gleamed like polished rubies in the morning light.
A wing—larger than The Black Wraith’s mainsail—unfurled with terrible grace, sending a gust of wind strong enough that I felt it ripple through our tether.
The creature banked, offering us a fleeting glimpse of its serpentine neck and the ridged spines that ran along its back, before disappearing once more behind the clouds.
Kaspar’s entire body went rigid in my arms. His fingers dug painfully into my shoulders as he stared wide-eyed at the spot where the creature had vanished.
“IS THAT A FREAKING DRAGON?! MAX?!” His voice cracked from equal parts terror and wonder.
A roar shattered the silence, reverberating through my bones and chest.
Kaspar’s fingers dug deeper into my shoulders, his entire body jolting against mine. “Max?!” His voice cracked with panic.
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in my chest. The pure joy of this moment—suspended beneath the ship with Kaspar in my arms while witnessing one of the rarest sights in all the skies—was almost too much to contain.
“Yes, yes, that’s a dragon!” I confirmed, unable to hide my own childlike excitement.
“You’re joking. You have to be—”
Suddenly, the flash of red appeared again, closer this time. The massive creature broke through a cloud bank not fifty yards away, its scales catching the morning light like thousands of rubies. The wind from its powerful wings buffeted us, causing our tether to sway dramatically.
But there was something else—a smaller flick of red tail trailing behind the massive beast.
Kaspar’s jaw dropped, his eyes growing impossibly wider. “IS THAT A FREAKING BABY DRAGON?! MAX?!”
I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. In all my years of flying, I’d never seen a juvenile dragon. They were notoriously protected by their mothers, hidden away in mountain nests until nearly full-grown.
We watched, spellbound, as the baby dragon—still around the size of a third of our ship—flew side by side with its mother.
It nuzzled against her massive neck, its movements playful and awkward compared to the adult’s graceful power.
The mother dragon rumbled something that sounded almost like a purr, her long neck curving protectively around her offspring.
Then, to my astonishment, the baby dragon’s head swiveled in our direction.
Its eyes—gleaming like polished amber—fixed on us with unmistakable curiosity.
Its snout wrinkled, and a small puff of smoke snorted from its nostrils.
The corners of its mouth seemed to curl upward in what looked remarkably like a grin, as if it were saying hello.
Kaspar, apparently recovered from his initial shock, lifted one trembling hand from my shoulder and waved at the creature.
The mother dragon’s massive wings caught an updraft.
The baby dragon chirped—a sound somewhere between a thunderclap and a bell—and with one last curious glance in our direction, followed its mother.
They disappeared into a distant cloud bank, leaving nothing but ripples in the mist to prove they’d been there at all.
Kaspar stared after them, his mouth still hanging open in shock. Then, as if a dam had broken, words tumbled out of him in a breathless rush.