Page 12 of Skyshade
There it was, that blade again.
Wraith slept in a specially made stable, on the other side of the castle, away from the rest of the animals. Apparently, there had been some sort of incident that had required his relocation. Something about trying to play with the other creatures with his teeth...
The dragon’s wings lifted happily when he saw her. He leaned his head down, so it was level with hers. Smiled.
He breathed out, and the force from his nostrils nearly swept her off her feet.
Grim caught her with a firm hand against her spine. She tried not to focus on the way he lightly ran his fingers down her back before he dropped it.
Wraith’s head lowered to the ground as Grim approached, not in deference, but in clear command. He wanted his head rubbed, and Grim complied, stroking the spot between his eyes. Wraith made a deep sound of satisfaction.
He looked over his shoulder at her. “You can portal onto his back—with your device, of course. Or mount him like this.” She watched Grim effortlessly climb up Wraith’s scales.
It looked easy enough. She approached Wraith. Rubbed her hand exactly where Grim had, which made the dragon smile. His teeth were nearly as big as her entire body.
Wincing, she gripped one of his scales. It was rough beneath her palm, and firm. When he was smaller, his scales had been smooth, almost soft, but now they were strong as armor. With a little maneuvering, she gained purchase, climbing first to his shoulder, then onto his back. She sat in front of Grim, leaving some distance between their bodies.
“May I?” he asked.
She looked down to see his hands hovering just inches from her waist. She nodded; then his fingers were curling around her hips, andhe was effortlessly sliding her toward him, until she reached a place where her legs were almost perfectly molded to Wraith’s spine.
“Better?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to sound even remotely casual, not when he was still touching her.
“Finding places to hold on is obviously important,” he said, his voice right in her ear. One of his hands lightly covered her own. “Here.” He guided her hand to a ridge. “And here.” He gripped his fingers around hers, showing her the right spot. “His hearing is impeccable. He can hear instruction even in the sharpest winds.”
She hoped neither him nor Grim could hear the ridiculous beating of her heart as she leaned back, finding herself settled right between his legs.
“Do you have to sit so close?” she said sharply, her voice far too hoarse.
Grim said nothing as he shifted away from her. Good. She tilted back and forth, testing her position. She dried her sweaty hands on her pants, then gripped the places Grim had indicated.
“Go on, Wraith,” she said, chin high, when she was sure she was ready.
Isla was expecting a slow ascent. A few more moments to mentally prepare.
Instead, Wraith took just one step before shooting into the clouds.
Her stomach lurched; she lost her grip completely. She flew back, soaring breathlessly for half a second until she crashed into Grim’s chest, and he curled one arm around her, pinning her against him. Somehow he kept his grip, even though he was only holding on with one hand. A curl of darkness had her realizing he was using his shadows to keep himself steady.
“That’s cheating,” she told him, voice breathless with panic. Those same shadows inched toward her. They twined around her hips gently, reverently, extensions of Grim’s own arms.
Grim made an amused sound. “What an interesting way to say thank you.” He leaned down to say right against her temple, “You’re the one who decided to part with your powers, Hearteater. You can’t blame me for using mine.”
Wind stung her cheeks. Wraith dipped, and she used the momentum to lurch forward, away from Grim and back to her hand placements. She wouldn’t have his shadows keeping her secure when she rode Wraith alone. She would need to learn how to do it the hard way.
Her fingers were slick with sweat. Her thighs burned with effort as she fought to stay still. Her eyes watered from Wraith’s speed. Wraith tilted slightly, and she gritted her teeth against a rush of nausea as she peered at the ground far below.
She wondered, for a moment, about the first time Grim rode Wraith. He wasn’t particularly known for his patience. Part of her wished she could see it, the way they had bonded.
When she was relatively sure she wasn’t about to slide off, she risked a look at Wraith’s wings.
They were glorious—slightly translucent and massive, light filtering through like a shade. He soared through the sky in a smooth arc.
Most of the time, anyway. When they caught a trail of wind, Wraith turned sharply, riding the current. He was clearly still a child playing with a newfound ability, tilting side to side, then up and down. Her arms shook with the effort of holding on. Her stomach lurched.
“Wraith,” Grim said smoothly. “Isla is going to vomit, it’s going to land on me, and I’m going to be far less inclined to rub your stomach.”
