Ridoc #2
“You’ve made this awkward,” he accuses, huffing like I’ve disappointed him.
“My mistake.” I throw my hands out again in the universal sign of surrender, and I note a twinge in my knee that, yep, is bleeding. Huh. I must have landed on a twig or something back there. “Making things awkward is kind of my specialty.”
His head tilts like he’s debating the veracity of my statement. “That is true.”
“All right.” I take a minuscule step forward. “I was wrong. You’re definitely mine. Or I’m yours. However you want to think of it is fine with me. What do you say we try this again?” I attempt to smile, but it feels more like a curved grimace.
He huffs a breath that stinks like sulfur. I take the fact that I’m still breathing as a good sign and forge ahead.
“I could go back to the stream and everything.” I nod vigorously. “But this time I’ll get it right, and we’ll fly off into the sunset together.”
“It’s barely noon.”
“Now who’s humorless?” I cock my head to the side and lift my brows. “Let’s do it over. Please.”
He blinks. “No.”
“No?” My chest tightens. What in Malek’s name am I supposed to do now?
“No.” His nostrils flare a few times. “If you want to be my rider, prove it.”
“How?”
“We’ll see if you can keep up with me.” He crouches, then bounds upward, jumping higher than any dragon I’ve seen, flaring his wings when he’s clear of the trees and taking off into the sun.
“I can’t fly!” I yell the obvious as he soars higher.
“Your loss.” He pulls what Kaori likes to call a switchback maneuver as his momentum stalls, flipping his body weight and coming back toward me in a steep dive. At this angle, at this speed, he’s going to land right on top of me in about five seconds.
Fuck. Am I supposed to show him I’m smart and I’ll move? Or demonstrate my trust and keep my feet right where they are? Browns have the fastest reflexes, so he’d probably appreciate me showing that I can match him.
“Choose wisely.” He’s almost on me when he opens his wings, stalling his descent just before the trees, then snaps them in tight and plummets, four claws down.
“That’s not helpful!” I take a single step backward, just enough to show that I can both trust him and be flexible. At least I hope that’s the message it sends.
He lands with a thud right where I was standing, shaking the ground. The force of impact sends leaves flying, and my vision goes dark.
A heartbeat later, I sputter and rake the leaves off my face. I’m covered in them, thanks to him spitting all over me a few minutes ago.
“You look like a feathered goose.” He chortles. “Where is your sense of humor now?”
“You’ve made your point.” One side of my mouth rises in a lopsided grin as I pluck leaf after leaf from my shoulders.
“Points. Yes. Score one yourself, and we’ll see what happens.” He pivots left and begins climbing up the giant redwood that’s as thick as he is. Bark falls to the ground as he pulls himself up the tree claw by claw. “Catch me if you can.”
He has to be kidding me. Right?
“What are you? A damned cat?” My jaw hangs as he climbs the height of his full length, and the tip of his tail swings a few feet off the ground. “Nowhere in our studies did our professor mention any of your kind scaling trees.”
“Not everything about our kind is meant for human knowledge,” he counters, swiveling his head to look down at me and swinging his tail like a pendulum.
My heart jolts and I jump to the side as it whizzes by, cutting through the air like the giant double-edged blade it is. “Little too close for comfort!”
“You missed an opportunity to gain your seat.” Sarcasm drips from his voice.
“You want me to get up there…like this?” I jump forward as the tail comes back by, swinging at an arc that tells me he knows exactly where I am and can skewer me with that thing if he wants.
“If you can’t think on those clawless feet, we are no match.”
“Got it.” Holy shit is he making me work for it, and I’m all right with that.
Or at least, I will be as soon as I figure out how to get through this.
The tree is too big to scale, which means the only way up there is on him.
But rising to a challenge is my specialty, and the faster I prove that, the quicker we’ll fly off into the sunset together like the perfect little pairing we are.
The tail swings again, and I leap out of its path.
“I’m growing bored,” he warns in a singsong voice.
“I somehow doubt that,” I mutter as his tail continues its upward swing. He’s having a grand old time fucking with me. He thinks this is funny? Hope he realizes I’m going to fuck with him twice as hard. For the rest of my life. Once I get up there, that is.
Think. Swordtails aren’t as sharp as daggertails, but they can still cut a gryphon in half when attacked at velocity…which Aotrom doesn’t have with his stationary positioning. Hands are out, unless I want to risk losing one, and I definitely have to steer clear of the pointy tip.
His tail starts its descending arc. If I don’t get on this time, who knows what he’ll do. I’ll probably have to chase him all the way back to the quadrant.
Fuck it. I’ve got one thing on me that won’t cut as easily as my hands. Let’s do this.
I undo my leather belt, grab hold of the buckle, and whip it off my waist. Then I take an end in each hand and start running alongside his swinging tail.
My heart pounds as I full-out sprint so close that my shoulder rubs against the hardened scale that forms the flat side of the swordtail as it starts to swing upward again.
The second the end of the blade is at the height of my shoulder, I hook my belt over the tip of his tail and pray to Zihnal that I miss the sharpest portion.
Then I leap and hold on for dear life. The leather doesn’t have to survive the trip; it just needs to hold out long enough to give me the momentum I need.
“Naturally you’re undressing in a stressful situation.”
I half snort, half laugh, and my stomach dives as I’m swung upward, tearing my gaze from the forest floor that grows more distant with every second.
There’s not much to see with Aotrom’s tail blocking most of my view, and considering the rending sound coming from just above me, this ride is almost over.
The belt snaps and falls from my hands as I’m catapulted into the branches.
This is going to hurt like a mother—
“Fuck!” I grunt as my midsection collides with a tree limb that’s about eye level with Aotrom.
Not one to miss an opportunity, I wrap my arms over the branch, then haul myself up to stand on the thing.
It’s more than thick enough to support my weight, thank Zihnal, and I’ve landed close enough that it only takes a few scurried steps to reach the trunk.
“Close, yet I don’t think this tree will let you ride it into battle.” Do all dragons openly mock their riders? Or just mine?
“Smart-ass.” I grab hold of the trunk with both hands to stabilize myself, then cringe at the sticky substance that courses over them. Fucking sap. I’ve stuck my hands into one of the furrows Aotrom dug with his claws.
A low grumble sounds from his chest, and I swear I can hear him laughing in my head as his gaze swivels to track me.
“I’ll be the one laughing in a second,” I promise, studying the distance to his back. This is either going to earn me his respect or really piss him off, and there’s only one way to find out.
Bending my knees, I jump forward with every ounce of strength I have. My boots make impact on top of his nose, but by the time his eyes narrow on me, I’ve already leaped again, this time aiming for his neck.
I miss my intended target by a measly twelve inches and start to fall.
Fuck. Me.
My ribs tighten and my heart thunders in my ears as I drop like a freaking stone, flailing my arms as my vision is consumed by brown scales and spikes. I land on his shoulder with an impact that jars my teeth.
“You jump like a squirrel.”
“You’re the one in the godsdamn tree,” I counter, grabbing hold of his scales with my sticky hands for balance. He’s still clinging vertically to the trunk, which means if I make one wrong step now, I’ll end up on the forest floor with a broken neck.
I wedge my boots into the gaps between his scales, then traverse over his shoulder and onto his back. My stomach churns every time I look down, but step by step, I move sideways across him until I reach the raised scales of his pommel and seat.
By Zihnal, I did it! Laughter trips out of me as I lock my hands around his scales and work my feet up until I’m in some semblance of a seat.
“You’re oddly mirthful for someone who clings to my back like a frog.”
“Consider this my point,” I tell him as my arms start to shake with the exertion of keeping myself in this position. “You may have stuck leaves to my face, but there’s a trail of sap across some very hard-to-reach places on your back. Good luck getting that off.”
Aotrom stiffens, then lets out a chortle.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you can find some snow up in the peaks to help harden it so it chips away.
Ice will do the trick.” I can’t help but laugh again, even knowing I’ve got maybe sixty seconds at this precarious angle before muscle fatigue causes me to fall to my death.
“I’d say this calls us even, wouldn’t you? ”
“Never.” He lunges from the tree, straight into the sky, taking me completely off guard, though I keep my seat. “But I would say it makes us equals.”