Chapter 28 #2
Rell settled beside her, not too close but near enough that she could still feel the warmth radiating from him. He didn’t face her directly, just positioned himself at an angle where she could see him if she wanted to, or ignore him entirely if that’s what she needed.
His posture was relaxed, shoulders loose, hands resting on his knees. Nothing in his body language suggested impatience or judgment. He pulled a small dagger from his boot and began methodically scraping away caked mud from the leather, the soft scratching sound filling the silence between them.
She watched his hands move, steady and sure, as he cleaned his boots.
The beast within her stirred, urging her to shift, to escape into the simpler world of animal instinct where there was no shame, no confusion—just survival and sensation.
But she couldn’t trust that part of herself right now, not when his scent still made her blood sing, not when the memory of his taste was still fresh on her tongue.
Tehvan’s voice rose in her head, sharp and absolute, drowning out the lingering heat in her veins. Discipline. Control. This is how you lose yourself.
Rell finally looked up from his task. “It’s getting late. Do you want to go to bed?”
“I’ll be down later,” she managed, the words coming out softer than intended. “You can go.” The weight of his presence made it impossible to breathe. To think. To sort through the tangle of shame and desire still pulsing beneath her skin.
Rell studied her for a moment. She felt his gaze but refused to meet it, afraid of what her own eyes might reveal.
“Alright,” he said finally, sliding the dagger back into his boot. “Don’t stay up here all night. The temperature drops quickly after midnight.”
His footsteps receded across the rooftop, and Elora counted each one until she heard the heavy metal door close behind him. Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding, her shoulders sagging with relief.
She let the shift take her, welcoming the familiar ripple of transformation.
Her nightglider form settled around her consciousness, no longer reacting to lingering pheromones.
Her nostrils flared, drinking in the rich tapestry of scents from the garden below: night-blooming jasmine, damp soil, and the faint decaying of fruit.
Each breath untangled another knot of tension in her chest.
She moved to the edge of the roof where the city sprawled before her, a constellation of light and shadow.
Businesses still hummed with activity despite the late hour, their windows spilling golden rectangles onto the streets below.
The massive communication towers stretched toward the sky like sentries, their peaks crowned with sparkling blue energy that rivaled the stars themselves.
Elora turned, trying to adjust the cloak that had fallen away during her transformation.
Using her teeth, she awkwardly attempted to pull it back over her body, but without hands, the task was nearly impossible.
The worn brown material bunched awkwardly between her wings, creating more of a lumpy cushion than a proper covering.
She settled onto her belly, paws tucked beneath her chest and fixed her golden gaze on the city below.
Time became fluid as she watched. The moon tracked its path across the sky, casting different shadows as it moved.
Her thoughts drifted, sometimes clear, sometimes murky like water stirred by a careless hand.
The beast within her dozed, sated by the freedom of this form, by the distance she’d put between herself and the confusing heat of Rell’s touch.
The scrape of metal against metal jolted her from her trance. The rooftop door was opening. Elora’s ears flicked forward, but she remained motionless. Rell had finally come to fetch her, as she knew he eventually would. She made no move to acknowledge him; her tail curled tightly against her body.
“Oh!” The voice was female, high with surprise.
Violette stood framed in the doorway, her white-blonde hair gathered in a messy bun atop her head. A thin nightgown wrapped around her slender frame, one hand clutching the fabric at her collar.
“I didn’t realize anyone would be up here at this hour,” Violette said, her voice steadying as she took in the sight before her. “Or rather... any creature.”
The woman simply stood there, head tilted slightly as she assessed the large, winged cat lounging on the rooftop.
No surprise. No weariness. It struck Elora as odd that anyone would react with such mild shock to finding a nightglider—a predator with razor claws and wings spanning six feet—casually sprawled on their roof.
But then, this was Violette. In the brief time Elora had known her, she’d never seen the woman truly rattled by anything.
“Let me guess, Rell said something stupid.” Violette continued, stepping fully onto the roof and letting the door close behind her.
Elora stared at Violette for a long moment, then let the transformation take her. The night air bit her exposed skin before she could gather the cloak around herself, pulling it tight against the chill.
“Did Rell tell you?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “About what I am?”
Violette shook her head and settled down beside Elora. “No. But I suspected as much when I first saw your eyes. Golden eyes aren’t exactly natural.” She tilted her head. “So, was I right? Did Rell say something idiotic?”
Elora hugged her knees to her chest. “No,” she whispered. “Rell didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”
Violette folded her hands in her lap and leaned back slightly, the corner of her mouth neither rising nor falling. Her gray-green eyes blinked once, slowly, like a cat settling in for a long wait, and she inclined her head slightly to the side, her gaze never leaving Elora’s face.
The weight of that gaze made Elora’s throat tighten. “There’s this... wall inside me,” she continued, the words spilling out before she could reconsider them. “Something solid and immovable that blocks me from... experiencing things.”
“What kind of things?” Violette asked.
Elora swallowed hard. “Safety. Peace.” She paused, her next word barely audible. “Desire.” Rell’s hands on her body flickered through her mind, the ghost of heat followed immediately by ice. She shuddered.
“It’s because of him, because of Thorn. The Institute.” Elora’s fingers dug into her legs, nails leaving indentations in her skin through the fabric. “I don’t think I can be fixed while my past still haunts me. While he lives.”
Violette was quiet for a long moment, gaze lifted toward the darkened skyline. “Like if you tear out the right piece, the rest will fall with it?”
“Exactly,” Elora said.
Violette glanced sideways at her. “But things like that aren’t usually flesh.” She adjusted to focus on her hands in her lap. “They’re built. Slowly. Belief by belief. Rule by rule. Survival stacked on top of survival until it hardens.” She shrugged lightly. “Claws don’t do much against that.”
Elora’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “I think you’re underestimating just how sharp my claws are.”
She looked at Elora then, her gaze softening. “Sharp enough to survive,” she said. “Not always sharp enough to undo what survival built.”
Elora nodded but didn’t respond. Fine words from someone who hadn’t lived her life. Violette hadn’t been torn apart and reshaped by Thorn’s hands. She hadn’t felt him reaching into her mind, into her body, remaking her against her will.
Thorn was the only answer that made sense.
So, it was the one she chose.