Page 169 of Change
“I’m sorry.” The words flowed effortlessly from me now, and I bit my lip. I studied the line of his jaw, trying not to focus on the looming horizon. “I really did want to be your mate.”
And this time, the thought didn’t fill me with dread. For the first time, I wanted it.
The air stilled as Titus’s eyes popped open—a bright garnet that instantly caused my fear to wash away. His chest vibrated with a low rumble that shook me to my spine.
“Let go.”
There was no time for hesitance or doubt—his features were already sharpening. Titus was already in the early stages of a transformation. So even though I had no idea what might happen once I obeyed, I listened with a quiet confidence that everything would be okay.
His undershirt pulled from my fingers, and the wind dragged me from him as his form elongated and grew. He changed from man to dragon in an instant. But by the time his giant wings uncurled into the air, he was already out of my reach.
And time seemed to still as, for a moment, nothing changed. We were still falling, almost to the point of no return.
He still wasn’t flying.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I didn’t want to die. What good was being a fairy if I was just only going to fall to my demise? Out of all the injustices I’d suffered in my life, I’d never felt more cheated out of anything more than this moment; folklore had promised me the ability to fly.
I hadn’t even had my vengeance yet.
Before disappointment and regret had a chance to settle in, I was shocked out of my thoughts as I’d crashed onto something hard, warm, andnotwith the deadly force of my body splattering in pieces across the ground. The howling wind stopped echoing in my ears, and my fingers twitched at the unexpected texture of sudden solidness under me.
I opened my eyes to the sight of Titus’s smooth, almost-iridescent scales, and my arms tightened around the dragon’s long neck. We were still falling, but it was controlled downward movement as his wings arched toward the sky above us.
He was flying.
My vision wavered as my dark thoughts lightened.
He’d done it. It had worked.
At least one of us had wings.
He twisted his face toward me, pressing his snout against my forehead.
‘Look behind you,’ his voice echoed in my head.
I was almost hesitant, the pressure against my back had been a mild annoyance before—easy to ignore in the face of impending death—but now was growing into something more concerning.
So, per his order, I did.
Sage and gold flickered in the corner of my vision, and my mouth went dry as the magnitude of what I was seeing began to process.
That—and the long-forgotten memory of one of Damen’s lectures. He’d even told me this from the very beginning, and I’d completely forgotten!
I couldfly, he’d even said it was possible! Although, at the time, since no one knew who I was, I was told it wasunlikelyI’d have this skill. But I was, and so here we were…
So, obviously, flying necessitated some manner of apparatus.
I shivered, and the wings fluttered in response, but outside of that—nothing.
Now that I’d thought about it, there wassomethingdifferent in the feeling along my back. It was a strange, foreign sensation. I furrowed my brows in concentration, and a tingle shot across my shoulder blades. Still no movement, however—or enough to give me any confidence in flight.
How did I use them?
I’d loosened my grip on Titus—reaching back to touch an edge of the thin, lace-like appendages. They were feather soft and entirely too fragile.
Would they even work? It didn’t seem like they were made for flying.
