The Hidden Truth (Shadow Claw Book 7)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “There's a lot of things you don't understand about humans,” she replied. “And this is probably one of them. Look at the bed.”

  She could feel the plane rumbling to life. She knew that outside of their own closed-in, little area there were hundreds of people crammed into the economy seats. But she was comfortable on the couch with Cole's arm around her as the wheels lifted off the ground.

  “Cole,” she said, turning towards him. She could see the slight haze in his eyes and the cocky smile that lit up his face. “Thank you. For all of this, however it ends.”

  He kissed her then, rough and passionately, as if he couldn't stand another moment without touching her. Everything about the kiss felt natural and right. She leaned into it, feeling his arms encircle her waist.

  “Mmm,” she couldn't help but let a moan escape as their kiss deepened. He pushed her gently until she was lying on the couch, their seat belts undone and his lean, muscular body hard against hers as he lay on top of her. “Cole....”

  He eventually pulled himself up long enough to meet her eyes.

  “Yes?” he asked, his breath hot. They were panting, and her body was tingling with anticipation.

  She had never done this before, but she knew that the moment was right.

  “Should we continue this in the bedroom?”

  He knew in an instant what she was asking. He didn't hesitate as he got up, pulling her hand. Once she was on her feet, he swept her into his arms, kissing her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and they headed into the bedroom.

  “Oh, God,” she said, as he undid her shirt. This was it, the moment she spent dreaming about and fantasizing about. And it was going to be with a dragon lord. She had never wanted anyone more thoroughly than she wanted him. And now, she would have him.

  Chapter 8

  “AH!” Enya awoke with a startle as the plane hit a bad area of turbulence. One moment, she had been asleep in the warm, soft bed, and the next, she was nearly tossed against the wall. Luckily, even half drunk and asleep, Cole's reflexes were fast. He grabbed her before she hit the wall, yanking her back against him. The plane bumped again, and she whimpered, moving into his arms. “I don't like this. I don't like this.”

  “Shhh,” he said, rising slightly over her. His shirtless torso was warm and gleaming in the low light. He rose slightly over her, his eyes open and his ears perked up. He reminded her so much of a dragon listening for danger. She knew that he would protect her from anything that he could. But he wasn't in control of this turbulence, and it felt like it was getting worse with every second. “It's OK. It's OK.”

  Just as he said it, the plane dropped what felt like 15 feet. Her stomach dropped, and she heard the screams of the people in the back rows. It stabilized quickly, but the damage was done. She leaned over the side of the bed, gagging and then vomiting on the floor.

  She was furious with herself, even as it happened. They had made love for at least half the flight, their passion tangled in sweat, limbs, and sheets 30,000 feet in the air. They had both just dropped off to sleep when the turbulence took over and now she was ruining it.

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered, as he put a hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

  “It's OK, Enya,” he said, kissing the back of her head. “It's OK.”

  Finally, she fell backwards onto the pillow. Her head was throbbing, and her mouth felt like sawdust. He managed to find a water bottle, handing it to her to take small sips.

  “If I was flying the plane, this never would have happened,” he growled. “Some people just weren't meant to fly.”

  “Could we do that with you as a dragon?” she asked. “Fly long distances like this?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “It's absolutely possible. But I can't go as fast as this, of course. By myself, it's fine. But if you were to ride on my back, it might not be so pleasant.”

  “You did seem pretty cuddly, though, when you transformed,” she put the water bottle down on the bedside table. “Should we call someone to clean up?”

  “I think you should rest.” He pulled her back into his arms. “We can deal with things like that later.”

  She sighed, curling into his side.

  “This is what it's going to be like,” she said. “The whole time. Things are going to be fine and wonderful, and then my body is going to rebel against me.”

  “Well,” he replied, “we will deal with those things when they come up. For now, everything will be fine, alright, my love?”

  “Where did they teach you such compassion?” she asked. “In prince school?”

  “Compassion?” the word surprised him. “Most people on my planet say that I have no compassion.”

  “Well, they are wrong,” she said. “Of course, you do.”

  Even after she slipped back into sleep, he contemplated the word.

  Compassion.

  There had been so many times that the people he had helped slaughter in battle begged him to have some. He and his brothers had been heroes on one side. But there were others who called him a villain, who called him a monster.

  Yet, here was this innocent-hearted girl who called him compassionate, who snuggled up to him like he was the safest place in the whole world.

  When they finally landed, he was sober, but his head was a million miles away. He wanted to hear her say it again–that he was compassionate, that he was kind, that he was not the monster they screamed he was.

  “Do you think you could help me?” she asked, as they waited to exit the plane.

  “With?” he asked, standing at the door, waiting for the signal.

  “I feel like my legs might collapse if I walk right now,” she said, and he turned around in alarm.

  “Enya?” he asked, in concern. “What can I do? How can I help?”

  “Don't look so worried,” she said. “This just happens sometimes. Especially after I throw up, I get so shaky.”

  “Tell me what to do,” he said, plainly. She gritted her teeth, and it was clear that she hated admitting weakness. But at this moment, she had no choice.

  “Just ask them if they could get a wheelchair,” she said. He cocked his head, the word unfamiliar. They had been through this a few times, and she stayed still, looking him right in the eye. “Wheelchair.”

  “Wheelchair,” he repeated, just as their private attendant came in.

  “My girlfriend needs a wheelchair.”

  That startled Enya more than the speed of the attendant entering the room.

  “Do you know what that word means?” she asked as they were left alone.

  “Wheelchair?” he asked.

  “Girlfriend,” she replied.

  “Oh,” he colored at that. “It was the easiest word. I didn't want...I mean... I wanted to honor you, so that people knew you weren't just my mistress.”

  She laughed at that.

  “Things are different on Earth. No one would think that. I supposed that they would think that of a Prince, but here you're just normal. We're just two young people traveling.”

  “Normal.” He smirked at that. “I don't think anyone has ever described me using that word. If they have, it's usually proceeded by ‘why can't you be...’”

  “My mother used to ask me that all the time as well,” she said. “Especially when everyone else around me would get a cold, and I would get bronchitis or something.”

  “Do I want to know what that is?” he asked, as the attendant arrived with a wheelchair.

  “No,” she answered. “You do not want to know what that is.”

  They had a layover between Belgium and Spain, which Enya had originally thought was going to be an easy transition. But she could see there was something wrong as soon as they got out into the main section of the airport.

  Nearly everyone was crowded around a single board, and she could see red on it everywhere.

  “Uh oh,” she replied. “Push me closer.”

  “If you tell me what to look for....”

  “
I could, but it's complicated,” she said, and so he obliged. As soon as she scanned the board, she realized what was happening. There must be a problem at the highest level, for everything said ‘Delayed’ or ‘Canceled.’

  “Excuse me, sir?” she turned to the man next to her. “Do you know why everything is lit up?”

  “Problem with air traffic control,” he replied. “Could be hours, or could be a minute.”

  “Amazing,” she said, and turned to Cole. “Alright. We better find some place to settle down.”

  “What's air traffic control?”

  “Don't worry about it.” She could explain everything to him, but it seemed an insurmountable task at this point. She was already incredibly weary after a transatlantic flight. She couldn't imagine how she might have felt had they not had a bed. Last night had been mostly amazing, but it certainly hadn't been restful. “All you need to know is that until it's fixed, no one in this entire airport is going anywhere.”

  “This does not inspire confidence in humans,” he said, as he found them a bench. “It's also incredibly frustrating. I can fly.”

  “You can't fly,” she pointed out. “Not unless your magic has returned.”

  She lowered her voice when she realized she was getting a few stares from people around her.

  He laid a hand over hers. “Even if it has, I'd want to preserve it for you. I hate that you don't feel well and I can do nothing about it.”

  She gave him a soft smile.

  “It's kind of you. But I'd feel better if we could just get to our destination. Airports aren't exactly designed for comfort, so perhaps the wait won't be long.”

  “Is there another way?” he asked, and she shook her head.

  “No. We need a plane, unless we enjoy 48 hours of boats, trains, and walking.”

  “Humans are dumb,” he said, and she chuckled.

  “They don't teach you much patience, do they?”

  “I'm a Prince,” he reminded her. “We never had to wait for anything.”

  “But you're...,” her face contorted. “Are you immortal?”

  “No,” he answered, softly. “My lifespan will be far longer than yours, but we can perish, and eventually, we do grow old.”

  “Are you old, though?” she asked. These were all things she had wondered many times before, but never got around to asking. Now, it seemed as if they had all the time in the world.

  “No,” his answer surprised her. “Not even for a human.”

  She met his eyes.

  “So, you can probably guess what my next question is going to be.”

  “32,” he answered. “Exactly as I appear.”

  “Huh,” she leaned back. “I expected you to say 292 or something. That's not bad at all.”

  “It's the age of majority,” he replied. “Which is probably why my father chose this year to tell me the truth. He thought I could handle everything I knew being a lie easily when I reached majority. Turns out, it's harder the longer you believe a lie.”

  “Cole,” she squeezed his hand. “We all make our own path in life.”

  “My Enya,” he answered. “So ridiculously positive, even though we're stuck in a God-forsaken place.”

  She glanced around. “We could go shopping. I have a bit of room left on my credit card, and I've never shopped in an airport before.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Why? Are things different here?”

  “It's the experience,” she said, and he rolled his eyes but rose to oblige her. At that point, his heart would have given her anything that she wanted. He dreaded spending time in this place. It seemed overly chaotic, tempers were running high, and everywhere he looked felt dirty. The effect on Enya's fragile state was not going to be a good one.

  As the hours ticked by, it was exactly as he feared. They lost their spots on the bench, long since taken after a shopping spree. Despite his better judgment, he let himself be convinced to sit on the floor, so she could lie in his lap. He wasn't quite sure that she was sleeping, but she was quiet, still, and her body warmed as she snuggled against him.

  Eventually, an announcement came over the PA, offering to re-book flights for the following days. But by the time he got the front of the line, they only had seats for two days down the road.

  “It'll be fine,” Enya said, barely sitting up when he returned. “We can explore Belgium. Unless you have a time limit?”

  “I don't,” he answered, crouching down to meet her eyes. “But I am concerned about you.”

  “One last time,” she said, with a smile. “To have an adventure and act normal before you take over the world. What do you say?”

  If it was anyone else, he would have smote them. But instead, he leaned forward, kissing her soft lips.

  “One last time it is, then,” he said, pulling back. But, he worried it would be more than just one last chance for a normal life. Perhaps this would be one last chance at life itself.

  Chapter 9

  She fiddled on her phone as he returned with the luggage they had collected. “There’s a hotel downtown that's pretty cheap. Right off the train station, and then we could be close to all the sights.”

  “I shudder at the word ‘cheap,’” he said, crouching down to look at the picture. “And if you don't want to vomit now, I'm sure you will by the time we get in there. There must be something better.”

  “Again, room on my credit card,” she answered. “Unless you can conjure up some compulsive magic.”

  He flexed his hand, thinking. He really didn't want to use an ounce of the returning magic in case she needed him. At this point, though, he wasn't sure he could convince any innkeeper to even give them a smile.

  “It will be good for you to see how the other half lives.” She smiled.

  “I don't like it,” he said. “But then, I haven't liked much since I came here, apart from you. Tell me which way to go.”

  “Um.” She glanced at her phone and coughed. “We have to catch the train downtown, I think it connects to the airport. This way, up a flight.”

  “Sir, do you need any help?” a porter stopped them, pointed at the bags, and Cole realized it was going to be quite a challenge. Everything was a challenge in this human form, and what frustrated him the most was everyone else seemed to be managing quite well. It was as if they spent half their lives pulling roll-away suitcases through airports. Enya not being stable on her feet presented a problem at this moment, but it was more than that. This human form was weak–physically, and emotionally. He never felt so strongly swayed by another being when he was a dragon. He didn't know how to deal with his feelings half the time. Of all the challenges he expected to meet on Earth, this was not one of them.

  “I uh...,” he looked to Enya.

  “It's alright,” she said, reaching for Cole's hand and using his weight to struggle up. “We'll manage. Won't we?”

  “Will we now?” He kissed the top of her head, “I guess we will.”

  Her sense of direction seemed to have improved since the night of the ball, and she figured out how to buy tickets and board the train. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, and they both pulled a suitcase onto the crowded train. He felt like such a commoner and such a failure as she curled against his chest. The countryside of Belgium flew by as they passed the few stops to downtown.

  “Have you ever been here before?” he asked her, and she shook her head.

  “No. I've flown at home, but never across the ocean. I've always imagined Europe as a place with great castles from fairy tales. I suppose they are around here somewhere.”

  “Pardon, Madame. Est-ce que cette place est occupée?”

  “Non,” she answered the stranger without a second thought, waving her hand as he sat down. Cole raised an eyebrow at her.

  “French,” she said. “They speak French in Belgium.”

  “Excellent,” he said, leaning his head against the window behind them. “I'm stuck in a country I don't intend to be in, for two days, and they spe
ak a language I don't know.”

  “They speak Dutch, too,” she replied.

  “Oh, that makes things so much better.” He rolled his eyes.

  She clung to his waist. “Cole, we only have two days. Let's make it the best two days either of us have ever had. Think back. What was the best day of your life? We'll re-create it.”

  He looked down at her eager face, despite her tired eyes, and couldn't help but smile. He didn't want to appear so sentimental, so emotional, but there was only one answer that had truth in its words. There were happy memories with his brothers at home, laughter in his days. Despite being the black sheep and often in trouble, his life hadn't been terrible. But there was nothing that stood out as the best day of his life until he met her. That was a day he would remember, no matter how many days he lived. So, he gave the simplest answer he could.

  “Walking in the park,” he said, and she took it at face value.

  “They have parks here, I think,” she said, as the train chugged along.

  “And you, my dear?” he asked. “What was the happiest day of your life?”

  She looked up to meet his eyes and said words that warmed his heart.

  “I think that a park would suit me just well. Just walking, just sitting, and just being. No stress, no pressure, no school. Just me and you.”

  The train signboard announced their next stop and they rose, his arm still around her waist. Looking around, he saw other couples just like them–young, tired, burdened down with baggage and yet happy. No one gave them a second glance; no one even blinked an eye.

  Anonymous in a crowd–no one bowing down to him. No one fearing him. It was surprisingly refreshing.

  The hotel was exactly as he feared it was. It wasn't the worst thing he had ever seen. There weren't bugs or dirt. But the room was small and cramped, and he didn't get the feeling of comfort or luxury, Enya sank onto the sheets though, her head happy to be on a soft surface.

  Deciding to put his thoughts aside, he crawled onto the bed over her, smiling devilishly as he kissed her. Her body reacted, arching up to meet his.

  “Mmm,” she said, as he lay beside her. “I feel so gross. But that was nice.”