by Ivy Asher
Pigeon shoots me an image of Dr. Evil from Austin Powers saying, “Riiiight.”
“You know, I never thought I would say this, but I liked you better when you were quiet,” I tell her, opening the door that leads outside and calling on my wings.
She snickers, but I ignore it as I leap off the balcony in search of a good place for us to figure our shit out and tap into our inner badass.
This should be interesting.
“You want me to what?” I ask, the panic and doubt ringing clear in my voice.
Pigeon replays the action movie she just mistook for real life in my mind. I watch as she dives out of the sky until we’re only a couple feet off of the ground. She slows us slightly and then we shift into me. I start running, not missing a beat in order to keep our pace. Then bend over to snatch a twig from the ground, and when I straighten up, we shift back into Pigeon and climb high into the sky.
Internally I stare at her, my look communicating just what I think of this birdbrained plan.
“There are easier ways to kill me, you know,” I declare, folding my hands over my chest.
She flashes me the image of us successfully completing the last challenge that I declared was impossible.
“I am aware that I have said that before, but it doesn’t make it any less true,” I point out.
Pigeon proceeds to bombard me with a slideshow of all the things we’ve accomplished in the three days we’ve been coming out here. We spent the first day on the baby steps. We worked on partial shifting in my form and in Pigeon’s. I can now shift and call on talons, Pigeon’s eyes, a soft downy coat of fur from the waist down—which I’m still not sure how I feel about—and I can work up a growl that would make any mama lion proud.
Pigeon also gave me a thorough flight lesson. Which, surprisingly, has helped to make everything that’s happened since go much more smoothly.
A ripple of smugness breaches my thoughts.
“Okay, fine, maybe it wasn’t that surprising since you specifically flashed me how important it would be, but you are a dramatic little bird, so forgive me for not falling hook, line and sinker for everything you say,” I tell her. “Are you sure this next task isn’t like the one you created about keeping my wings clean?” I ask incredulously.
Pigeon snickers.
“Pigeon!” I warn, not interested in falling for another prank.
On day two, we spent most of the day jumping off an outcropping of rock on the side of the waterfall. I would jump off as me and then mid fall, we would shift into Pidge. We acquired an audience around noon, or at least that’s when Dri and Sice started cheering and rating my form, as my naked ass leapt flying squirrel style out over the edge of the water.
Turns out, they’d been following me and Pidge around the whole time, laughing their asses off. I look around the clearing now. I know they’re here, and yet I couldn’t tell you where if my life depended on it. Pidge had a conniption fit when I asked them for help though. She went all flashy and angry and then made me promise to trust her.
That’s when she took things to a whole other level. Here Pigeon and I were, riding high on our perfect execution of a bunch of death-defying shit, when she flashed me the next lesson. She insisted that it was vitally important to clean my wings each time I partially shifted...with my tongue. I, being the dumbass that I am, trusted her. I was about four feather licks in when she finally admitted she was fucking with me.
“It took me the rest of the day to get the feather fuzz out of my mouth!” I shout at her when the image my thoughts conjure up sends her into another fit of gryphon purr-chuff giggles.
“Just for that, I’m going to put a stop to the explicit fantasies I’ve been allowing to play out in our head for the last three nights. You know, the ones about us with Treno...and Ryn. I was on board with your dirty little daydreams because I knew it made your kinky ass happy, but tonight...tonight I’m going to replay every detail of Downton Abbey that I can remember. How do you like them apples?” I threaten.
I get the distinct impression—from Pigeon’s new fit of gryphon giggles—that she might be calling me out on my insinuation that she was the only one enjoying those fantasies. I say nothing, and she gives me a condescending mental “mmm-hhmmmmm.”
“Anyway, that’s not the point,” I defend. “I want you to swear on all of your dirty gryphon porn hopes that this next challenge is serious,” I demand.
Pigeon sends me an image of her crossing over her heart with her talons and then raising them to the side like she’s being sworn in as a witness or something. I exhale a resigned breath and pinch my temples.
Fuck, this is going to hurt.
Pigeon takes over, and we rise easily into the sky. She circles the clearing we’ve been working in and then drops. As we dive, she replays the sequence that we’re trying to accomplish, and I concentrate on each step. Our wings shoot out at our sides, and we activate our feathered flaps and slow. I shove forward until I own our body again. My feet hit the ground, and a cheer roars inside of me when I don’t immediately biff it.
I get exactly three strides in...and then biff it. I smash into the ground hard, but my feet don’t get the awww fuck memo, because they keep going. The next thing I know, I’ve folded myself ass over head, and I’m pretty sure I need to get very comfortable with this position, because I’ll never be able to move again. I grunt, stuck, as the dirt and debris settle around me.
“Sandra Bullock made this bobcat-pretzel thing look a hell of a lot sexier in Two Weeks Notice,” I observe as Pigeon proceeds to lose her shit.
She just keeps showing me images of a two-by-four flipping end over end across the ground, as if that’s supposed to mean something to me.
Fucking chirpy little parakeet.
Just when I’m on the verge of shouting I’ve fallen and I can’t get up and assume things can’t get any worse, a round of clapping starts up inside the trees to my right.
Just kill me now.
12
The clapping starts to sound louder, and I roll my eyes. Pigeon and I are giving Sice and Dri enough material for them to start a long and prosperous career in standup comedy. They’re the life of the tavern now, or so they say, regaling the patrons with stories of my epic fails and all the dumb shit Pigeon makes me do. I stay firmly planted in the pool of mortification I’m currently lounging in and wait for one of them to come help me up.
“Just when I think you can’t get any more interesting, Falon, you do something that proves just how wrong I was,” Ryn states, humor and amusement leaking out of his tone in spite of his obvious efforts to stem them.
I freeze, shocked that he’s here, and try to keep my cool despite my current predicament.
“That’ll teach you to underestimate me,” I chirp, rolling my eyes at him and at myself, because fucking hell, I really can’t move. My legs are wedged somehow in front of me, and I’m stuck in a fucked up backbend from hell.
I spit to clear my mouth of some of the dirt that’s invaded and try to think through how the fuck to get out of this.
“A little help here, Pidge?” I order.
She ignores me, focused fully on Ryn as he slowly moves closer to us.
“What are you doing here?” I ask on a grunt as I attempt to get my arms underneath me so I can de-pretzel myself. “Aren’t you supposed to be off fighting a war? Remind me which side you’re on though, because I still can’t tell,” I snark.
Ryn snorts out a laugh, and his leather boots come into my line of sight. He doesn’t immediately move to help me, and I growl.
This fucker is going to make me beg, I just know it.
“So what are you up to out here, unprotected and alone?” Ryn asks, and there’s a hint of something I can’t quite put my finger on in his tone.
Concern? Incredulity? Relief?
“Oh you know, just falling for my gryphon’s bullshit,” I answer casually and spit a little more dirt out of my mouth.
“If I touch you, will your gryphon t
ake issue with it?” he queries, a slight rise in his voice on the word gryphon, betraying the confidence he’s currently exuding.
I check in with Pigeon to gauge how she’s feeling right now. The erotic fantasies must have worked like a magic eraser, because I sense none of the rage that was there when she tried to kill him before. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that she’s kicking back with a bowl of popcorn, eager to see how things are going to unfold.
“She said she’d make an exception just this once,” I lie, apparently not very well either, because Ryn chuckles like he can see right through it.
A zing of warmth shoots right through me as Ryn grabs me by the waist and picks me up. He manhandles me like I weigh nothing and sets me on my feet in a move that shouldn’t be so easy for him and so hard for me.
I push my mess of hair out of my eyes, and Ryn’s holding a small canteen out to me. I eye it for a second and then him before reaching out for it. I take a deep pull, intending to swish and wash my mouth out, but it’s not water like I thought it was. Sweetness explodes in my mouth, and I immediately choke on it, surprised by the flavor when I expected there to be none.
I bend over and spit the saccharine-laced liquid out of my mouth. I then proceed to attempt to hack up both of my lungs.
“Cum on a tree sprite, Falon, don’t try to kill yourself so soon after I just rescued you,” he teases, hitting my back firmly to help clear my lungs of fluid.
I finally get a hold of myself and manage to straighten up. I take another pull from the canteen still in my hands, this time expecting the explosion of flavor. I clean my mouth out and then drink a good amount down.
“Careful,” Ryn warns, “Toag nectar is used when a soldier needs energy in a long battle. There’s no telling what it might do to your more delicate sensibilities.”
I snort. “I’m tough, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Altern,” I challenge, using the title he has amongst the Hidden.
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
I let loose an epic belch, and Ryn’s eyes widen in surprise. I smirk at him.
“What? That would have gotten me applause at the tavern,” I tell him, proud of the man burp.
Where’s Sice when you need him?
Ryn pinches his temples like this information exasperates him. “You’re supposed to be laying low until I can get us out of here, Falon. Not drinking in taverns with…” he trails off. “Who in the rut took you drinking?” he demands to know on a tired sigh.
“I am laying low,” I snap. “And I was with the guards Treno assigned, so I was fine,”
“Treno didn’t assign anything, I did, and where are those guards now, Falon?” he asks, looking around like he expects them to step out of the woods.
I do the same thing. They were here earlier.
I shrug, confused by where they could have gone and by Ryn assigning them to me and not Treno.
“We should go. All of Kestrel is practically looking for you, at this point,” he tells me casually as he places a hand at the small of my back in an effort to herd me.
I realize in that moment, with his warm hand against my bare skin, that I’m butt ass naked. To his credit, Ryn’s eyes haven’t dipped below mine this whole time. Then again, maybe he got an eyeful when he found me ass over face on the ground. I turn to the tree whose roots are protecting my clothes.
“Why are they looking for me?” I ask, perplexed. “I’ve been coming out here for days with no one being bothered by it. Sice and Dri are always close by; they’re sneaky fuckers, by the way,” I point out, impressed and equally jealous of their mad sneaking skills. “Anyway, why would anyone care where I am now?” I query, hastily moving in the direction of my clothes.
“Because Treno wants to see you, and what the little Altern wants, the Altern gets,” Ryn mocks.
“So he’s okay then?” I ask, unable to stop the relief in my voice from shining through.
Ryn’s eyes grow hard, and he studies me, not bothering to answer.
I bend over to pick up my newly gifted makeshift bra, and Ryn grunts.
“Well, at least your sneaky guards managed to deliver the things they were told to,” Ryn states irritably.
I stare at him for a second, the soft leather of the garment I assumed Treno gave me clutched in my hand, and it clicks.
“It was you?” I state on a shocked whisper.
I give a hollow laugh and stare at the bra in my palms. Ryn is the only one to ever see me wearing this. How could I have not made that connection earlier?
Ryn’s eyebrows dip with confusion. “Of course it was me. Who else could it have been?” he asks incredulously.
I shake my head and study his face, trying to understand why Ryn would have given me all of these things.
“Treno,” I state simply, and I watch as Ryn’s gray gaze fills with fire.
He steps toward me until our bodies are flush with one another.
“And why would Treno give you any of those gifts?” he asks, his voice angry but even, like it’s the calm before the storm.
“Why would you?” I challenge instead of answering.
A slight flush works its way up Ryn’s neck, and its appearance makes me infinitely more curious for an answer to my question. Ryn’s lips press together like he’s battling to keep the answer inside.
“Why?” I ask again, my gaze bouncing back and forth between his storm cloud stare.
“Because it’s what females of your stature expect in life. I was helping you to grow accustomed to that.”
I growl at him, unable to stop the sound of pure displeasure from crawling up my throat. I can practically taste the lie, and it pisses me off. I step back, dropping the bra from my hands and walk away from him.
“Where are you going?” he demands.
“Pigeon and I have work to do still,” I state flatly. “We’ll come back when we’re done, just like we have the entire time you and Treno have been gone,” I add flippantly.
I internally tap Pigeon and circle my finger to indicate it’s time to mount up.
“Did you not hear me when I said that the whole island is looking for you?”
“Let them!” I shout out, interrupting him. “Feel free to fly your annoying ass back there and tell them I’ll be along when Pigeon and I are good and fucking ready to return.”
Pigeon wing fives me, and I shake out my muscles, ready to eat dirt however many times it takes for us to get this right. I sprint toward the trees, initiating a move Pigeon and I mastered earlier where I run, jump up in the air as high as I can, and we shift and fly away. My feet pound hard against the grass covered ground as I pick up speed.
“Falon!” Ryn shouts at me, a warning in his tone, but I ignore it and leap up into the sun-kissed sky. Pigeon pushes forward, ready to take the reins and set up the next challenge again, but arms circle around my hips, and I’m side tackled like I’m a quarterback being sacked.
Motherfucker.
Pigeon seems more amused by this than I’d expect her to be, but I’m fucking pissed. Who the fuck does Ryn think he is? I’m slammed to the ground, but I rotate onto my back and slash across Ryn’s chest with the sharp talons now tipping the fingers of my hand. Ryn hisses and rolls off of me, pushing to his feet.
He looks down at his chest and touches the blood welling up from the scratches I just carved there. He looks from his blood tinged fingertips to me, surprise and something else akin to excitement in his eyes. A hum of eagerness floats through me too, and I work to not roll my eyes at its presence.
Someone save me from these weird ass birds and the strange shit that turns them on.
“So you haven’t just been out here rolling around naked in the dirt,” Ryn snidely observes, his hand dropping to his side.
Pigeon sends a warning to me to watch how his muscles are tensing despite the smooth tone of his voice. I wave her away with a thank you and eye exactly that. Ryn charges me precisely like Pigeon warned me he would.
I move to the side, avoiding the tackle, and call on my wings. I dive back, forcing my wings to support me, and partially shift my lower body into the powerful big cat legs that Pigeon has. I kick out mercilessly at Ryn, and he goes flying.
I shift all parts back to me and put my wings away as Ryn flies through the air away from me. I fully expect him to go crashing into the ground, and I prepare my snide remark about look who’s playing in the dirt now, but Ryn calls on his own wings and rights himself. He plants his feet lightly on the ground and smiles at me.
“Good to see you’re taking things seriously now,” he declares, and I glare at the dig barely hidden in the compliment.
“Good to see you’re the same ol’ asshole you’ve always been. Here I was thinking you might just turn out to be a nice guy. Guess I’ll rescind the pity fuck I might have thrown your way.”
Ryn chuckles, but his eyes flash with anger. His wings give a flap, and my wings pop out of my back like eager puppies who were just promised a treat.
Fucking hell.
Ryn’s smile turns devilish like he just proved some point, and that irritates the shit out of me. I pull my wings into my back and scold them for being overeager.
“Ohh, you got my wings to open,” I mock with faux surprise. “Too bad for you my thighs don’t work like that,” I add with a glare.
Ryn takes a step closer to me and laughs, but once again the humor doesn’t meet his eyes. “You want to see the magic I can work between your thighs, Falon? Is that it?”
I snort. “Na, I think Treno might be a better fit there.”
Ryn leaps for me as Treno’s name leaves my lips, and I leap back to try and avoid him. This time, I’m not fast enough. I make a mental note to still pay attention to body language while shit talking. Pigeon gives me an approving nod and then strolls back to her imaginary bowl of popcorn and her gryphon sized Lazy Boy.
Ryn digs his fingers into my sides, and I wait for the pain to sink in, figuring he’s going to use talons on me like I did him. Instead, I get all squirmy when I realize that he’s tickling me instead.