by Jen Crane
Timbra cleared her throat in an obvious attempt to be introduced.
I shook my head in defeat. “Stryde, this is my friend Timbra. Timbra…Stryde.” Short and sweet because I had no idea how I would explain our association.
“Nice to meet you,” she said. “How do you two know each other?”
I looked to the sky for help. To be struck by lightening. Something.
“Oh,” I said. “Ah. I met Stryde with Gresham.” It was true enough.
“Mind if I sit with you for a moment?” he asked. Oh, for goodness sake.
“Not at all,” Timbra smiled pleasantly and indicated the chair beside her.
The next fifteen minutes were some of my most tense. I was sure that at any moment Stryde would reveal our connection, would expose himself as a dragon. Then what would I do? I had no idea. I was so sick and tired of secrets, but they were never ending. Timbra knew my secret, my mother’s, even my father’s. But the fact I was communicating with the Drakontos dragons was something I’d yet to reveal.
Timbra squinted at me several times; she knew something was off. I found somewhere else to look each time she tried to catch my attention. Finally, our check came. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Goodbye, Stryde. It was good to see you. Tell your family hello for me,” I said.
He grabbed me in an awkward bear hug. I grunted as he squeezed me into his chest, my chin jutting upward with the force of it. He looked down at me and his emerald eyes were crazed, overloaded. He was going to have to get some serious help with his social skills if he wanted to successfully reenter society. I was aware of his issues, had a personal connection, and still I found him creepy as hell.
Timbra backed up a step when he released me, her disinterest in such an embrace apparent in her rigid posture. “A pleasure to meet you,” she said eloquently.
“Let’s go,” I grabbed her arm and traced back to The Root.
* * *
“What. The hell. Was that?” Timbra asked as we entered our History of Herbalism class.
“Just some weird guy I know,” I said and changed the subject to one I knew she’d embrace. “I see Boone and Ewan.”
She took the seat next to Boone and I scooted past them to the other side of Ewan, who looked fantastic in a tight black T-shirt. Black sneakers peeked beneath the legs of his faded jeans.
Once I was seated, Ewan leaned into me. “Hi,” he said playfully. He smelled clean, of masculine soap, and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment to enjoy it without distraction. When his arm brushed mine the intense warmth he always radiated sent shivers down my spine.
“Hi yourself.” I couldn’t help the grin that took over my face. I didn’t even try.
“You smell funny,” he said after a moment.
“What?” I inconspicuously sniffed toward an armpit.
“I thought I caught a whiff of something…different. Strange.” He leaned in farther and inhaled the air around my chest. The bold move stunned me and I gasped. Ewan opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth; he was working to discern a scent. Then he stiffened. “Who’ve you been…touching?”
“Touching?” The day’s events sped through my mind. “I don’t—I don’t know.”
His smile turned to a scowl in record time. Suspicion and restraint tensed his square jaw. “You smell like a male. A strange one. One I don’t know.” A rumble erupted from low in his chest.
“Oh!” I put fingers to my forehead. “I saw someone I knew at lunch. He hugged me. Very awkward, actually. Wish he hadn’t.” The growl grew louder and the professor shot us a warning look.
“What is he?” Ewan said just above a whisper.
“What is—oh. He’s an…um…reptile of some sort. Alligator maybe?”
“Not alligator, no.” He shook his head, his eyes menacing slits. “I don’t recognize this scent. Reptilian in a way. But…like embers somehow. Not woodsmoke. Almost like fire itself. He smells a lot like you—”
He didn’t finish his thought. Ewan Bristol had always been far too perceptive.
The pace of my breaths increased until I began to pant. I didn’t say a word, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t look at Ewan. I stared straight ahead, my mind working furiously to determine what to do. He’d figure it out, if he hadn’t already.
“You. Me. My place after class,” he demanded. When I bristled and began to protest he stared me down. Dared me to refuse. To deny it. I couldn’t and he knew it. I heaved a breath and looked back toward the instructor, but my thoughts were a thousand miles away.
* * *
Ewan’s room was tidy and his bed was made. Books and magazines lay neatly on the table. I ran my fingers along the even tops of them; idly rifled through the literary magazine on top.
“Sit,” he ordered. I clenched my jaws, but took the corner chair, which was more tattered than the one in my room. “Explain.”
I looked up at him. His face was severe, his handsome features tightly leashed. I closed my eyes in defeat, in dread. The moment I closed them my face shot hot with emotion. My cheeks tightened and pinched just before tears stung my eyes.
I couldn’t stand the thought of Ewan knowing about my mother, about the Drakontos dragons. About me. It wasn’t just the fear he’d lose interest in me; I feared losing his respect. He’d become a pivotal figure in my life, and I didn’t want to lose that. I turned my head in shame, hid my face with my hand.
There was no halting the sobs that wracked my body. They came dark and forceful like a wall of storm clouds. They wouldn’t be stopped until they’d drenched every last thing in their path.
I sat in Ewan’s threadbare chair and dissolved completely into the singular mess in his tidy room.
Ewan didn’t come to me; he didn’t comfort me. He didn’t insist I stop crying or tell me to grow up. He offered nothing at all.
Once I’d had my release and could think beyond my own misery, I looked up to find him sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d watched silently as I fell to pieces.
I sniffed and sat up straight. Cleared my throat. “Not much on sympathy, are you?” I found a tissue in my pocket and wiped my nose.
“I have two sisters. Tears’ll not derail me from what I want to know.”
“I wasn’t trying to derail anything. I’m upset. I never wanted to have this conversation with you.”
“Why not?” He sat unmoving on the bed. Rigid. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was as opposed to talking about it as I was.
“Because. My mother was who she was. Because I’m who I am.”
“And who was your mother?” He took a deep breath. “Who are you?”
I closed my eyes again. Breathed. Forced them open. Breathed. Willed the words to leave my mouth.
“Tell me, Stella,” he said. His voice was low, smooth. His expression was hollow, devoid of emotion.
“Edina,” I breathed.
“Edina?” His face pinched in incomprehension, drawing his dark brows together and throwing shadows over his eyes.
“The only one you know. The one from the stories.” His eyes widened at my words, and his nostrils flared before rejoining his slim nose. For an eternity he just looked at me. Not moving. Not speaking. Barely breathing. The intensity with which he studied me was frightening.
“And you?” he said after a time. “Who are you?”
“I’m half dragon, Ewan. I’m the daughter of a killer. I’m the girl people are gonna love to hate.” My lips quivered and my despair threatened to take control once more. I sat up straighter. No. I will not break down again, I demanded of myself.
Never taking his gaze from mine, Ewan rose from the bed. He bent his knees, his back still straight and strong, and knelt in front of me. I felt the warmth of his long arms as he pushed them along my thighs and around my hips. Ewan pulled me into him, forcing my legs on either side of his waist.
We were at eye level and he stared into mine as he slowly shook his head.
“No
,” he said, putting the full force of his gaze, of his bearing, behind his words. “No. You’re Stella Stonewall and that’s what matters. I’ve known who you are since first I laid eyes on you. And I like it. Very much. Too much.” His voice rasped with emotion. “You’re determined, and you work hard. You’re kind, generous. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re good, Stella—I know that like I know myself.”
“Ewan,” I whispered and threw my arms around him. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I could be dangerous. And I’m not just talking physically. Politically, too. Being known as my friend could mean serious trouble for you.”
“Funny,” he said. He pulled back and kissed high on my cheekbone where my tears had been moments before. “I forgot to add that you’re funny.”
I let out a sad chuckle. “You confound me, Ewan Bristol. You absolutely blow my mind.”
I leaned forward to eliminate the few inches that separated us and kissed Ewan’s full mouth. My lips dissolved into his, and with them my body melted, too. I used my legs to pull him tighter into me. He got my meaning and jerked my hips roughly against him. My fingers found their way to his springy curls, something I’d been dying to do. I grasped big handfuls of his hair and steered his head toward the ceiling for access to his neck. His perpetual five o’clock shadow had called to me since the moment I met him. I ran my lips and then my cheek along the scruff, delighting in the rasp. When I pressed my lips to the little hollow at the bottom of his throat, I felt the vibrations of his rumbled pleasure and my lips abandoned their pursed position for a grin.
His hands were just under the waistband of my jeans and he trailed his fingers lightly along the top of my ass. I pulled back to see his face, intent on finding his lips. His eyes held undeniable heat, but something more, too.
I took his lips again, but his response was measured. He didn’t deny me, but he didn’t reciprocate. I pulled back to search his eyes as my heart showed the early signs of ache. It was tight, strained. Not pained yet, but close.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “You having second thoughts?” The pressure on my heart grew and I had difficulty pulling in my breaths. “It’s okay if you are. I understand. I know this situation is—”
“You didn’t tell me who the guy was,” he said. He’d pulled his hands back to his own knees, his posture rigid once more.
“The guy?”
“The one I smelled. The one who smells like you do.”
I couldn’t get anything past him. “Ah. Ok. Well.” I heaved out a breath. Stalled. “Ah...”
“It’s one of them, isn’t it? The dragons from the crater with Brandubh?”
I could only nod my head.
“Dammit, Stella!” The volume, the fury in his voice was unexpected, and I jumped. “What the hell are you thinking? Who is he? Are you seeing him, too? Have we gotten nowhere?” He stood and backed away from me. “Am I still competing for you?” he asked, then began to pace within the confines of his room. “Is this about power, Stella—who’s the biggest alpha male? It’s not Gresham now, but some male dragon I have to compete with?”
“What? Wait. No,” I shook my head. “I don’t care about that. It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then?”
“God, Ewan. He’s my cousin. The three dragons from the crater that day are my mother’s family.”
“Fuck,” he said and sat roughly onto his bed.
“You can say that again.”
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Chapter 24
By Thursday, I was looking forward to seeing my uncle Gaspare again. Classes that day were both fun and insightful, Ewan seemed to be working toward accepting my reality (at least his face wasn’t frowning and broody every time I looked at him), and a cool breeze provided relief from the day’s heat.
I should’ve known things were too good to be true.
As we left our last class for the day, Timbra’s P.I.A. gave a loud alert from her shoulder bag.
“What is it, Fawn?” she asked the device.
“Timbra, you’ve received a request to report to the registrar’s office at once.”
She looked to the group and most of us shrugged. We had no idea what was going on. We hadn’t received the same requests.
“Do you know why?” Timbra asked.
“Your account indicates you’ve been dis-enrolled from Radix,” Fawn intoned. “Perhaps the two have some correlation.”
“Dis-enrolled,” she repeated. “By whom?”
“Mr. Russet Redfern,” the device replied.
The blood drained from Timbra’s face and her pert ears fell with it. She was stunned, bereft. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t move or speak.
“I’ll go with you,” Boone said and ran his arm across her back. “I’ll talk to him. We’ll get this sorted out.”
“No,” she croaked and shook herself. “No. I’ll go. I made the decision to be with you. I’ll face the consequences.”
“But…but... You can’t leave The Root,” Layla said. “No one gets in The Root. Surely he wouldn’t pull you out; deny you this great opportunity just because you’re dating Boone.”
“Oh, he would.” Timbra’s voice, her posture, everything about her was flat. Defeated. “And he obviously has.”
* * *
Timbra returned to her room, and I knocked before entering through our shared bathroom.
“Come in.” She had opened a large navy blue trunk, and its gold locking device rattled each time she threw something into it.
“What are you doing?” I knew what she was doing, but couldn’t accept it.
“Packing. Leaving. He really did it,” Timbra said as she transferred a stack of shirts from her dresser to the trunk.
“You can’t leave. No.” Tears stung my eyes and spilled onto my face before the words left my mouth.
“It’s okay, Stella,” she said. “I don’t really belong here anyway. I mean, how can a doe defend Thayer? We’re not even a very magical people. How can I ever put to use what we’re learning? My mom never attended The Root. I was shocked when my father agreed to let me come. He’s pretty old fashioned, you may have noticed.”
“I’ll talk to him. Maybe he’ll listen to someone else? Maybe if he got to know Boone?” I was reaching, and we both knew it.
“It’s over, sweetie,” she said. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”
“No,” I whispered and fell into her chair.
She set down the picture frame she’d been holding. “You can visit me anytime, Stell. That’s the great thing about tracing. Need your friend? Just pop over after class.” Her ears stiffened with anger. “My father’s had me banned from campus, so I’m afraid I can’t join you at Sabre or along the food court.”
“And Boone?” I asked.
“I’ll end it with Boone. For good. There’s no way it can work, my father’s right.”
“Oh, Timbra. I’m so sorry.”
She twisted her mouth, tried not to cry. “It’ll be fine. In time. You’re going to be late.”
“Late? Oh! My meeting with Gaspare. He’ll understand.”
“I will not have you late to your meeting with the PM on my account. Get.” When I didn’t move she cocked her head at me. “I’m serious. Go. I promise we can meet on Saturday for lunch. You can come out to my house, check up on me.”
“Okay,” I conceded and stood to leave. “I love you, Timbra Redfern. And I hate this whole thing.”
She wrapped her willowy body around me and squeezed. “Me too.”
Chapter 25
“Something’s different about you today,” Gaspare said and stepped away from me. We were studying the body compositions of various animals so that I could better control their forms. Though I could manage at least the basics of flight in my dragon form, manipulating smaller birds was a real challenge. My natural inclination was to operate them like I would my dragon, which was gross over-maneuvering and caused me to flail wildly through the air. I suffered
more than a few hard landings, and had the scrapes and bruises to prove it.
Gaspare searched my face, scanned my body. “Have you been hurt?”
I gave a sad laugh. “Not in the way you mean.”
He set down the model he’d been holding. “What’s going on?”
I felt stupid telling such an important man about my problems at school. About my BFF’s breakup with her forbidden boyfriend. “Nothing important. Just some stuff at The Root. It’s not important.”
“Is it important to you?” he asked and sank onto a tufted leather ottoman.
“Of course. She’s my best friend. She’s wonderful, and so is Boone. The whole thing is bullshit and I cannot believe her dad pulled her out of The Root.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Gaspare said, and held up his hands. His blue eyes gleamed with repressed mirth at my information dump. “Start from the beginning. Who is ‘she’?”
“Sorry. Timbra Redfern. She’s my suite mate and my dearest friend. Her dad’s Russet Redfern. I met him once. He’s an overbearing asshole that treats Timbra like chattel—Oh. My goodness. I’m sorry. I tend to lose control of my mouth when I get excited.”
He laughed and waved away my concern. “Russ Redfern? I’ve known Russ for a long time. Why has he pulled his daughter from Radix?”
I told him Boone and Timbra’s entire story—about their forbidden but inescapable love.
“I can see why Russ was so upset,” he said. When I bristled he stopped me. “But, I’ve learned a thing or two about taboo relationships.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “They can have gloriously unexpected outcomes. They can result in gifts you never imagined, but treasure above all others.”
He was referring to me, to my parents’ forbidden love.
My heart jumped toward him and my body followed. I squeezed him in a hug so tight and unexpected that he grunted.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.
I twisted my lips and nodded my head in thanks.