by Elsa Jade
“Cross!”
Leaning more precariously over the edge, he ignited his datpad search light and swept it down the face of the cliff.
Wide, frantic eyes of stormy hue gazed back. Tyler clung to a narrow ledge, her arms splayed wide across the rock and one knee anchored. But her other boot scratched at the vertical surface without finding a foothold.
“Hold on,” he called.
Pointless advice. What else was she supposed to do? The cliffs weren’t the highest he’d ever seen, but they were entirely high enough to be deadly in this gravity. He clenched his fists as if he could grab her from here.
But when he edged closer, the rock crumbled under his weight, sending a warning shower over her.
She flinched, turning her face away. Her fear lanced him, along with a crueler horror that was all his own. He’d done this to her by not giving what he knew she needed. She’d always been clear and direct with him, and she’d only asked for honesty in return. Of course she’d come seeking it. This was his fault.
Through the dust, she peered up at him. “Stay away,” she said hoarsely.
Of course she was afraid of him as much as the fall, considering what she’d seen. “Tyler—”
“Or you’ll fall too,” she warned.
For a half second, he closed his eyes. She’d run from him, and yet still she would try to save him. She was clever, loyal, curious to a fault. And all of that had worked against her—because of him. And now he couldn’t get to her without making things worse.
This had always been his failing.
But there was no time left for doubt or regret.
“Tyler, I’m coming for you.”
“No! You can’t. Just get a rope or—” Her scrabbling foot knocked a chunk of rock from the cliff. With a tight scream, she froze.
“I’m coming now,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady. “Trust me. Just hold on.”
“I can’t…”
Couldn’t trust him? Or couldn’t hold on? Either one would shatter them both.
Taking a few steps back, he inhaled long and deep, sucking in the crisp night wind, as if that clarity could wipe away all his past mistakes. And then he jumped from the cliff.
Though he angled to take himself clear of Tyler, he caught a glimpse of her astonished, horrified gaze. And when she cried out his name, the sound was anguish, not ecstasy as it had been before. But he needed her to see him although he didn’t know if that would make her trust him—or make her hate him more.
For an instant, the gravity of the situation seized him—both figuratively and literally. Maybe his beast would reject him now when he called upon it, as he’d rejected it all this time. But he knew it would never let Tyler down.
With a furious rush of assent, the wyvryn uncoiled within him, bursting from the tough fabric of his clothes.
The unfurling of his wings was pain and freedom both, but Tyler had reminded him of the cost of letting anyone else make him doubt what he knew was true. Only his beast could save her, and if the price was banishment from the battalion that had warned him of exactly this moment, then so be it. Because he wouldn’t let her life be the price of his future. The night air filled his wings, and the starlight was bright as plasma fire to his beast’s searching gaze.
Though it had been far too long since the wyvryn was freed, it had no interest in the freedom of the skies. Instead, it banked hard, angling toward the cliff face. Though the wyvryn, minus its wings, was not so much bigger than him, Tyler’s tiny ledge left no place for him to land, and the sharp protrusions of rock made any sort of hover impossible.
Despite all that had happened, she would have to jump to him, cling to him. She would have to trust the beast.
He swooped toward her, trying to fly gently so as not to terrify her more—or knock her right off the precarious ledge. He opened his mouth, but his wyvryn vocal cords were ill-suited to language despite the universal translator that stayed conveniently in place despite his change. Still, he managed to growl out her name and a single command, “Jump.”
Through his fangs, it sounded more like “chomp”. And she did not jump.
Swallowing back a roar of frustration and fear—even the beast agreed that wouldn’t be a helpful response—he wheeled around once for another attempt.
This was a terrible time for her to question the unavoidable truth that she had to trust him.
When Evens had hired his crew and he’d done his research on their new world, he found stories of Earther dragons, which was close enough to what he was that Tyler should know him. And based on his research, dragons only ate virgins, so that wasn’t a problem.
He refused to believe that she would rather die than trust him.
How could he prove himself to her before the stones broke away?
He couldn’t hold the wyvryn’s shape indefinitely, not after chaining it for so long. If he didn’t convince her in the next moments, they would both fall to their deaths.
No matter what she chose, he would not let her fall alone.
Despite her precarious position, her gaze stayed locked on him, giving some hope that she wasn’t entirely lost in fear and hate.
Hovering where she could see him, he held his body vertical, the long whip of his tail hanging down. Locking eyes with her, he gave a full-body shudder that sent an undulating wave through the wyvryn’s sinuous body. Contorting the beast’s vocal cords, he called to her, “Kissss.”
She stared at him. He hadn’t told her the truth, but this was everything she needed to know about him. Whatever explanation he might’ve given her with all the power in his universal translator didn’t matter compared to what she thought now.
“Catch me.” Her whisper carried to him on the restless wind. She braced her dangling foot against the rock and launched herself toward him, arms outstretched.
Her body slammed into his, a sweet heat and welcome weight. He clamped his talons around her waist, achingly aware of her tender skin. The wyvryn ignored his worries; it knew exactly how to hold her.
Too bad the beast’s strength didn’t quite match its confidence. His wings labored, unused to his own mass, much less the addition of hers. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, but took care to stay clear of his wings. Of course she understood the critical mechanics of their staying aloft.
Now if he could just do his part…
But he didn’t need to fly them out of battle; he just needed to glide them to the nearest solid ground.
The beast grumbled at the command. It had dreams of carrying her across the stars. But first they needed to talk. When the beast wanted to object, he reminded it that they needed lips to kiss. With another grumble, it acquiesced.
Angling his wings, he aimed them on a shallow flight path descending toward the lake. Though all his muscles screamed at the effort, he told himself he could hold on.
He would hold her forever, the beast reminded him.
As the water rushed beneath them, the sparkle of starlight on falling water marked the wild side of the lake where hidden Sunset Falls thundered. He forced himself onward, into the darkness beyond.
“Cross,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”
Although he knew the words were just a plea to save her life, he only wished it meant more.
Claim her, the beast snarled. Now, while her words still rang in the night.
But though the beast was ascendant, he resisted. Because he might not be a database engineer himself, but for this he wanted just one data point: her matching desire.
When the familiar nested rock rings marked the lakeshore, he glided in. Landing was a rush of ground moving too fast where he almost dumped them in the lake. But he managed to pull up and release her at the last moment. She ran a few stumbling steps to catch herself before whirling to face him.
The wyvryn arrowed upward triumphantly, spreading its wings in an exultant display. Craning its neck to check back on Tyler, it wheeled, making his head spin, and swooped toward the water. With ea
ch down sweep, the tips of its wings pierced the surface, cutting traceries of silver into the starlit obsidian. A delicate scoop with the trailing edges… It spiraled up again, scattering droplets in a moonbow mist.
Showing off for its chosen mate when he was supposed to have hidden everything from Tyler Lang.
When he finally lured it down, the wyvryn landed on the outermost rock that contained the hot waters of the spring. In the cold air, the thin spirals of heat spun away from the backdraft of his wings. The beast posed for a moment, wings still spread, head angled toward Tyler.
You saved her, he told it. Now I’ll do our best to win her.
With a trembling sigh, it finally lowered its wings. And then he was standing there, naked except for a few wisps of steam.
Slowly, he stepped along the stones, one eye on his bare feet, the other on Tyler.
She watched him, her arms wrapped tight around her. When he was halfway around the circle of stepping stones, she said roughly, “Stop.”
He did, waiting.
“You lied to me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
He spread his hands to the sides, revealing himself, knowing that was answer enough.
She knew it too, he could tell by the way she let out a breath almost as shaky as the beast’s had been.
But she stuck her chin out. “Why are you here?”
“Because I had to catch you.”
“Cross—”
“It’s true.” He took another step along the stones. “And my crew is here because Evens hired us to protect his new matchmating venture.”
“You’ve done a terrible job of that!”
He inclined his head. “Also true.”
She stared at him hard, as if she didn’t appreciate his honesty now, and the intense sweep of her gaze was like fingernails scraping across his exposed skin. “You are an alien—an alien dragon. On Earth!”
“A wyvryn.” It was the first time he’d said the word aloud as interpreted by his universal translator into her language. He liked the sound of it. “My planet, Xymir, is known for three things: our pixberry soup festival, a huge debris field in our solar system that fuels an annual meteor shower galactically renowned for its violence and beauty, and our beast battalions.”
“Beast.” Her arms sagged into a baffled gesture. “How do you…?” Her hands fluttered a bit, like little wings.
Taking one more step around the rock circle, he admitted, “That was only my second time ever changing into my wyvryn.”
“You don’t do it all the time?” She blinked at him incredulously. “I would always be flying!”
He peered at her. “Wanna fly again?”
She snapped her jaw tight. “I’m furious with you.”
That wasn’t a no.
The beast fluttered within him, a tiny flicker of hope. “That’s fair. But there are rules about what I could share with you, to protect you and your planet.” He held that little spark close, because it might be all he got. “The truth is, Evens and I both know those rules, and we bent them to bring you this close. We needed you, and it was a risk. A risk you didn’t know you were taking. That isn’t just prohibited, it was wrong.” He stopped on the rock just out of her reach to await her judgment. “I’m sorry. I can’t ask for your forgiveness, because you don’t know enough yet to grant it. But I want you to believe I would do anything to keep you safe. Even if that meant freeing the wyvryn.”
She gazed at him. “Freeing the wyvryn? The wyvryn is you.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“But it’s…beautiful.”
In his chest, the beast chuffed, and for a moment he thought it would try to break out in another display. But it only circled lazily and settled, watching with one eye as he explained himself to Tyler. It…trusted him?
“Beauty and danger can exist simultaneously in the same cell.” He let out a slow breath. “That’s why our battalions are in high demand as personal guardians and planetary defenders. But the beasts must always be restrained, always. Since they are powerful, too powerful to control, we must bind them to a mate whose presence pacifies them.”
“But you—and your beast—saved me.” She stiffened. “Are you saying that we are…mated?”
He shook his head. “The beast wants to claim you. But you’d have to want it in return.”
She watched him with those stormy eyes. “The beast wants it.” Her voice reflected the faintest waver, like the wind-touched lake behind him, almost calm but hiding depths he couldn’t fathom. “And I,” he said softly. “I want you. I want to fly with you. I want to kiss you. I want you to want me.” But he did not take the last step along the ring of rocks. “And this is another promise I have broken, one I made to myself, that I would never ask you to answer me when you didn’t have all the information. Our night together…” He let out a shuddering breath. “It was supposed be only one night together, a shared pleasure, skin to skin and no deeper, but it was more to me. But I would never have told you that.”
“Why not?”
“I had already made promises to Evens and my crew. And more importantly, you never asked for more. Chaining my wyvryn was not the job you were brought to do.”
“Good thing,” she murmured. “Since I failed miserably at that.”
He ached to reach for her, as the beast had held her, knowing how she’d felt about her last job. “I would do it again” he said fiercely. “Every time, I would come for you and I will catch you when you fall.”
“There’s still so much I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I guess I can see why aliens haven’t announced their presence on Earth. But why do they need a matchmating service? What happened the first time you called on your beast?” She gazed up at him. “What happens next?”
“The first time I changed, I did it to save my crew. And instead, we were banished. But those details are not all mine to tell.” He shook his head. “As for why aliens need connection and love... Why does anyone? There are as many reasons as there are stars in the sky. And not just your sky, but all skies.” He waved one arm in an arc overhead, not quite as expansive as a wing but making his point. “Evens was being honest about needing you to find a way to help those who want a match. As for what comes next…” He stood quietly again, not quite restraining a shiver. “The Big Sky Intergalactic Dating Agency still needs you. But I will stay away from you, if you want. Sol and Zenith will be your sentinels while we figure out where Evens is and who is trying to sabotage your work.”
“Lies,” she murmured. “That’s the message that was left in my data. That’s all it said. Lies.”
“Never again,” he swore. “Not between you and me. I don’t have all the answers, but what I know I’ll share with you.”
“And if I want more?” She lifted her chin high. “More than answers. More than just a job.”
His heart beat double-time, his and the wyvryn’s. “I can’t tell you all,” he confessed. “Because I’ve never been mated. I know the beast is strong and sure, and once it claims you, it won’t ever want to let you go. It’s a primitive creature of faith and freedom because it is, after all, a beast.” He tilted his head. “It wants me to tell you that it will take you flying again, because it believes you won’t be able to resist such a temptation.”
A little laugh escaped her. “And you?” The glint of amusement in her eyes changed into something more intense—dangerous and beautiful in a way that made the wyvryn catch its breath. “If you were trying to win me, what would you tell me?”
He held her gaze. “I would tell you the truth: that I’ve been across galaxies but never felt what I feel when I’m with you. Like storms of shooting stars are burning in my blood when I hold you. Like I want to conquer worlds for you.” He grimaced. “Like my brain and my tongue are too frozen to say everything I feel.”
She let out a breath. “Oh, Cross.”
Still he waited, balanced on the stone, even though every muscle in him yearned to close that last bit of space b
etween them.
Her gaze softened. “I know how to warm you up.” She stepped to the very edge of the shore. “Kiss me.”
The beast roared inside him, but he said only, “Catch me.”
Chapter 15
Even as his arms closed around her, Tyler felt the powerful rush of the dragon-beast’s wings.
Or maybe that was just the thundering of her own heart.
His kiss dropped in a fast arc, the same way he’d plunged over the cliff, coming after her. She’d almost screamed then, holding back only for fear of ripping herself right off the ledge. Now she fell willingly into his embrace, whispering his name.
Every gasp and the plunge of his tongue filled her with an intimate simmering bonfire that melted the memory of shock at seeing him change. Each stroke of her hands over his naked body told her he hadn’t changed that much.
And the nudge of his erection into her belly was a sly reminder at how he’d already made her fly many times…
When he finally broke the kiss—with one more lingering caress—his eyes blazed with a light not found on her world. But it was a passion they’d found together.
“You’ve caught the beast and me,” he murmured. “We are yours. Hearts, blood, truths, it’s all yours.”
She cupped her hand at his jaw. “I thought I needed to know everything, but that’s not quite right. I just needed to know how you felt. All the rest… That’s what a lifetime together is for, right? The algorithm won’t ever be perfect, but this is still the right place, the right time.” She popped up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “And you have so damn much to tell me. Even though we got off on the wrong foot—”
“Because you tripped over a chair’s foot,” he reminded her. “But I caught you then too.”
“You got me.” She brushed her thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “But even when I had questions, I knew I’d get my answers from you. Like, now I know why you have all these muscles.” She trailed her hands over his pecs and down the ridges of his abs, lower… “So you can fly me to the moon.”
She squeaked as he swung her up into his arms. Ah, she’d always considered herself a boring, boots-on-the-ground girl, but she could get very used to this feeling of flying.