Page 73 of Centaur Bolt

His brows rose. “Good idea. I need one too.”

“I thought you were going to sprout fur.”

“Hair,” he corrected. “And if I have to revert to two legs, my scale coverage isn’t adequate for mixed company.”

He wasn’t kidding. Things hanging out all over the place. “I’d rather not be looking at that, either.”

He stiffened. “Well, I need a cloak then.”

“Or you could just learn to grow fucking scales.”

Marcus glared at me. “You said something about a farm?”

I snorted and turned to march off into the trees. After a moment, he followed.

As to be expected, the entire farm was dark and quiet at this time of night. Farmers worked hard all day. They weren’t likely to be stomping around after sunset unless required to.

This farm did have animals, so that possibility existed. I avoided the pens—some critters reacted to my kind. And who sharding knew what they’d make of Marcus.

Seven-foot Dragons had difficulty skulking. I skirted the illumination from the single light hanging in the middle of the yard, and peeked around behind the house, but no handy line of drying clothes presented themselves. Hugging the shadows, I turned toward the barn.

Draped neatly on hooks just inside the large sliding door were heavy cloaks designed to protect in all weather. I snagged one and handed it to Marcus. They were worn out in places, and smelled—

“Ugh. They must roll around in the pens with these things.” Marcus tucked it under his arm and picked something up—a pair of bags suspended by a thick strap of leather. Soon he was shoving our stashes of steamed eel and crystal dust into ‘em.

As I pulled my cloak on, I spotted something on a rack in the corner. I lifted it, and he looked up from fastening the flaps on the bags.

“No fucking way,” he said.

“I’m no rider,” I growled. “This whole thing ends fast if I fall off.” The saddle had a knob at the front that looked handy for gripping if I needed to. I examined the straps attached to it. “These long enough?”

I glanced back at him. He was silhouetted in the light from the door, but the stiff way he held himself spoke volumes. When he finally replied, he sounded like he was being strangled.

“Just take it, and let’s get out of here.”

I turned away, but spotted something else on a hook, and nabbed it too. Fortunately, Marcus was already heading for the door. I hooked it over the saddle’s knob—seem to remember it was called a horn—and we skulked our way back across the yard and into the forest.

We kept going for a distance, likely longer than we needed to. He was as reluctant to do this as me. But the ground ranged from sponge to mud. As I preferred to fly over walking, carrying this saddle was getting old fast.

Finally, I stopped dead. He stomped a little farther before turning.

“Look, if we’re going to do this, then do it,” I said. “That town is a long way from here by foot. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

If he had, we’d be left with few options. Walking to the town would take us days. Flying as a Dragon would get us nabbed pretty quickly. But if I went down, I’d take a whole lot of ’em with me. Not a bad way to go.

The Deranger in me agreed.

Marcus refused to look at me, but he tossed his cloak on the ground. Looked like he’d decided to grow more legs. Or at least, change the ones he had.

Then his gaze rose to mine, and for just a moment, they flashed white. “You riding me meansnothing,” he growled.

His tone triggered the rage. I strode right into his space, shoving my face into his, and let the monster inside me slip, just a little.

“Are you forgetting what I am?” Each word had a snarl running clear through it. My talons itched to wrap around his throat. “What is inside of me,ownswhat is inside of you.”

His eyes flashed again, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. I saw the canines grow long and sharp.

But my words weren’t a bluff, and he knew it. Ididown the Wyvern inside him. It had yielded to me not because it had wanted to, but because it hadn’t any choice.

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