Chapter 28 Elowen
ELOWEN
The shriek seems to split the sky in two.
I have barely enough time to clutch the enormous feather to my chest and look up before I see it—the Emperor Hawk, diving straight at us out of the blinding northern sun.
For a moment, all I can make out is the vast spread of its wings and the terrible speed at which it’s dropping. Then it comes lower and I see the rest.
Oh, Goddess—it’s huge.
I had imagined a large bird, of course—a creature worthy of a nest bigger than a large bed.
But this is no ordinary hawk. This is a monster of the air—a king of the peaks—all curved beak and gleaming eyes and feathers striped in silver-gray and white.
Its wingspan is enormous—nearly as broad as Theron’s Drake in his smaller form—and the hooked talons hanging beneath it are as long as knives.
They flash in the mountain light, sharp and deadly.
It’s coming right for us.
My blood runs cold.
For one terrible moment I can’t seem to move.
I’m still half inside the nest, one knee sunk into the coarse lining of cloud-pine fluff, with Theron braced near the edge and the narrow ledge just beyond him.
There is no time to climb out and no room to run even if there were.
The path back to the broader shelf of rock where Theron landed us seems impossibly far away now—a sliver of stone clinging to the mountain’s side.
We’re trapped.
The wind whips my hair across my face, and I shove it back with a shaking hand, still clutching the long hawk feather. The bird gives another savage cry, and I feel the sound in my bones. It’s angry—furious that we’re in its nest—that we dared to trespass on its territory.
“Fuck!” Theron growls.
He’s already moving, turning so he’s between me and the open air, his body tense, his broad shoulders braced as though he thinks he can somehow shield me from a creature nearly as big as a dragon.
The sight of him there should terrify me—there is a wildness in him I don’t think I have ever fully seen before—but instead it steadies me a little.
If Theron is afraid, he doesn’t show it. He looks back at me over one shoulder, his tarnished silver eyes bright and hard.
“Do you trust me, little one?”
The question catches me off guard.
“What?” I gasp.
The hawk is still bearing down on us, close enough now that I can see every beat of its wings, every flick of its huge, deadly claws. There’s no time for questions, no time for anything, and yet Theron’s gaze doesn’t waver.
“Do you trust me?” he asks again.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Of course I trust him.
I trusted him when he refused to ruin me the way any other man would have.
I trusted him when he touched me and brought me release without taking more than I could give.
I trusted him when he opened his home to me after I lost everything.
I trusted him when I climbed onto his Drake’s back and let him carry me into the sky.
So I nod.
“Of course,” I say, my voice coming out thin and frightened. “Why?”
“Good.” His answer is immediate, grim and certain. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on tight.”
For one wild moment, I don’t understand what he means. Then I see the way he’s crouching, lowering himself so I can climb onto his back, and I realize he means exactly what he says.
There’s no time to argue.
The hawk screams again and I flinch, instinct taking over. I shove the long feather into the knot of my hair as securely as I can, praying it will stay there, and then I lunge for him.
Theron catches me easily, one arm going around my waist long enough to help me scramble up onto him.
I hook both arms around his neck and press myself against his back, squeezing as tightly as I can.
His body is all hard muscle under my hands—warm and solid and alive.
I can feel the power in him, thrumming under his skin.
“Hold on, baby,” he says.
And then…he dives off the cliff.