Chapter 30 #2
“Yes. He used to bring me more when I was young.” I pause, taking a sip of wine. “I’m not sure if he began to distance himself, or if I did. Or both.”
“I’ve been to Moonstone before, too,” he says softly, looking off in the distance. “It’s… haunting.”
I nod in agreement. That’s exactly how it felt. Empty and hollow. Tragic. Haunting.
An entire race of werewolves are dead because of the curse.
“I can’t let Torrynth meet the same fate.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re right. We won’t let that happen.”
He gives me a sad smile, then a faraway look overtakes his face again as he mindlessly rubs my foot.
“I’d like to see the moon one day,” I tell him quietly as I look at a painting of it hanging on my wall. I hung it there a few years back, as a reminder. “The stars painting the night sky…”
I glance at him. He’s looking at the same painting, nodding. “You will.”
“Tell me a funny story about Raef.”
He smirks, running a hand through his hair. He’s stopped rubbing my foot, but they still rest in his lap. His hand still holds onto one, and the warmth of his arm rests over my shin. My body heats, and the flutters travel lower.
Dammit. My plan to ignore my attraction to him is not working.
“Ah, a funny story about Raef. Where do I begin?”
“How old are you two, anyway?”
“Twenty-three. He’s actually six months older. He’ll never let me forget it.”
I laugh.
He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me, then takes in my damp hair. “May I?” he asks, reaching out to gently tug a piece of the ends.
My breath hitches. “What?”
“You like to wear your hair braided a lot.”
“I do…”
He gently lifts my feet off him, then spreads his legs and motions to the rug in front of him.
“Okay…”
I move to the floor in front of him, leaning back against his seat. I set my glass on the floor in front of me. His long legs cage me in on both sides without quite touching me, his smoky musk filling my senses. I pull my legs into myself, hugging them.
His gentle fingers begin to pull at the top of my head, and I can’t help but shudder at the touch. Chills run down my spine.
He pauses. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Apparently having my hair and scalp played with is a weakness of mine. As he pulls and runs his hands along my head, it feels fucking incredible. I rub a hand along my arm under my sleeve and confirm there are tiny bumps along it.
I take a large gulp of my wine, then close my eyes.
“So… Raef,” he releases an exaggerated sigh. “Where do I begin.”
“When we were younger, he was convinced he’d be the first dragon to fly in a thousand years.”
“So it’s true, you really can’t?”
A heavy pause follows before he answers. “No.”
I wait for him to go on.
“Anyway,” he says, continuing to weave his fingers through my hair slowly, methodically. Like he’s handling something incredibly gentle that he doesn’t want to break. “He became very determined. He jumped off small ridges that he could access, broke a few bones…”
“In his human-like form?”
Daegan hesitates at the loaded question. He’s never outright confirmed or denied if they can shift or not. “Not always.”
I release a breath as Daegan’s fingers move through my hair.
“You can still shift into dragons,” I whisper out loud, more to myself. “And you guys kept that secret for a thousand years.”
He doesn’t respond as he continues working. My mind flashes with images I’ve seen of them in books. They are unimaginably huge. And frightening. And the male sitting behind me braiding my hair gently is one of them. Somehow, it doesn’t scare me though.
“You can breathe fire.”
“Yes.”
“You did it in the forest. But… there’s no possible way you shifted into a dragon fifty times your size right behind me and I didn’t sense it…” I’m thinking out loud, processing.
He answers anyway. “No.”
“Then… how?”
I hear another heavy sigh from him, and the smoky aroma becomes a little stronger in the air. His legs tense and move in a little closer, his black pants just barely brushing against me now. “We can… partially shift.”
My head cocks to the side, my brows pinch in confusion. He places a firm but gentle hand on the side of my head and pushes it straight again.
The gesture shouldn’t be so hot, but somehow… it is.
“Like… you have a dragon head attached to your body?” The image in my head is ridiculous.
“No. It’s not really a change that you can see with the naked eye. It’s something that happens internally. In our throats and within our torso. It takes many years and a lot of patience to master.”
“Oh. That’s… terrifying.”
He chuckles, low and smooth.
“It’s no more intimidating than a fire-wielding elf.”
“True.”
“Don’t tell Meela that,” he says smoothly.
I laugh, just as he finishes up the braid, ties it, and lets it fall over my shoulder as he runs his hand along it one last time. I try really hard not to focus on it too intently.
“I won’t.”
I stand, turning to face him with a smile of appreciation.
Big mistake.
I find myself standing directly in front of his large, relaxed body, his legs still spread wide and his arm resting over the seat. He looks up at me with his lazy eyelids, and my lower stomach turns into an aching, burning distraction again.
If he had shown even a single bit of interest in me, it would be far too tempting to crawl onto his lap right now and straddle him.
Who am I kidding? It’s still incredibly tempting. But I’m not about to make a fool of myself. I think a large part of him still hates me, deep down.
Also, what in the curses has gotten into me?
He still won’t look anywhere else but at my face or my hair, so I try not to let my gaze wander, but I know he noticed me looking. Checking him out.
“Thank you,” I say, turning away. I’m certain my cheeks are flushed.
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs.
I need to change the topic of conversation again. Something that will distract me from this puddle I’m becoming. “So why exactly do you know how to braid hair so well?” I ask as I take a seat beside him again, my body turned toward him.
Instant regret fills me. I don’t want to hear about the past girls he’s taken to bed, whose hair he braided afterwards.
But he hangs his head.
Oh no.
“Um.” It takes a moment, but he meets my eyes again. His are filled with sorrow. “I had a little sister too. Five years younger than me. She died six years ago.”
“She was only twelve?” I whisper.
He nods and looks away.
“Same mysterious cause?”
He nods again. Slowly.
“What was her name?” I ask gently.
He turns his head toward me. “Taela,” he answers with a smile that holds a thousand happy memories. Yet there’s sadness in his eyes.
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
Silence falls over the room for a moment. The reality of how horribly his people are suffering truly sinks in, and my drive to do anything within my power to change it is at an all-time high.
“So why has no one seen a dragon shifter in their dragon form? You won’t do it?”
“We will,” he says quietly, averting his gaze. “At home.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s…” He rubs a thumb over his brow, scratching at it for a moment. “It’s a bit difficult. Being robbed of that natural instinct. It’s become a very… vulnerable state to be in in front of outsiders. We don’t care for it.”
He glances at me, and I see the pain and the vulnerability in his eyes at the admission. But I also see strength and resolve there.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say in almost a whisper. And then I look down, mindlessly playing with a piece of my purple nightgown, crumbling under the intensity of his eyes on mine.
I can still feel his eyes on me. A heated moment of silence seems to fall between us for a moment. Or maybe that’s just my own version of events.
“So what happens when you… try to flap your wings?”
“A pain like nothing you’ve ever felt before and never will. Like ten thousand knives stabbing your wings at once. If you can manage it for more than a blink, it will knock you out. No one has ever lasted longer than that.”
My hands are cupped over my mouth by the time he’s done. I shake my head in disbelief. “And you guys… still try?”
“Yes.”
I stare at him, speechless.
“Anyway. Raef might seem completely unserious, but his determination knows no bounds. He’s tried more than anyone.”
I shake my head again in disbelief.
He eyes me, his gaze finally trailing lower to my nightgown. “Are you keeping it somewhere safe?”
I pull the long chain from my nightdress that holds the vial, hanging just below my breasts. It’s always on me.
He holds his hand out, as if to make me put it away. “Don’t show anyone that. Or tell anyone.”
I tuck it back in. “Don’t worry. No one is going in there.”
His jaw twitches, and then he looks away. Then, with the clearing of his throat, he stands. “Well, I should get going.”
“Okay.”
“See you tomorrow?” He turns to face me in front of the door. “We’re supposed to be at the training grounds.”
“Meela and I were going to practice our magic… privately again. Without such a big audience.”
He nods, mulling something over. “Okay.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”