Page 36 of Swift Wings Shadowed Heart
18
Vaylen
Isit at the edge of the bed, staring at the patterned carpet and trying to decide whether or not to go out again. The room is kept warm by a fire in the hearth, comfortable. Yet, it’s not even midnight. I could go to Drake’s Row red district and…
Bah! Who am I kidding?
I’ve never set foot in the red district. I wouldn’t know what establishment to visit. I’ve overheard some of my Clutch members talk about Madame something or another, but I’d be lying if I said I remember the exact details. Besides, my earlier mood has sharply changed.
Anger simmers in my gut. Skysinger Wyndward seems to have that effect on me. Everywhere she goes, trouble seems to follow.
First, there was that strange interaction of our powers. Then the body of a Neutro in the privy, two dragons fighting over her, one bonding her, and last but not least, a Skysinger’s death. I’m afraid that if I leave, the hotel will collapse on top of its guests.
I’ve had to send copious reports to Commander Voltguard about all these developments, more paperwork than I care to push around. I fear to think what will be next. I suppose that means I’m not going anywhere. Perhaps tomorrow.
With a sigh, I stand and remove my jacket. I hang it in the wardrobe, making sure it drapes without creases. Next, I unbutton my shirt and fold it with less care. I have a spare shirt in my suitcase. After kicking off my boots and the rest of my clothes, I take a cold bath. My teeth chatter when I come out, but I feel much better… clear-headed.
I slip on a pair of loose cotton pants and get under the covers, enjoying the feel of the feather-filled mattress and pillow. These comforts aren’t for the likes of me. Skyriders are the most revered citizens in Embernia—after the King, of course—yet admiration is about all we get to enjoy. The high salaries we earn remain stashed in the Sky Order’s vaults, while we fight on the front lines and enjoy precious few breaks from the battle. I don’t even have a place to call home in Emberton, and instead, sleep in hotels when in town.
A good night’s sleep between these silken sheets is a close second to a woman’s body draped over mine.
I interlace my fingers behind my head and stare at the ceiling. Like smoke seeping under a door, the image of Skysinger Wyndward in her black, form-fitting dress takes shape before me.
Fuck!
I push the image away and cast my mind outward, searching for Fragor. Our bond allows me to connect with him no matter how far away from each other we are. In a flash of lightning, I see a lush forest speeding below me. He’s flying… hunting and in the mood for elk. I know this as if he’d told me, even though no words cross between us. I sense only contentment from him, which lets me know everything is well at Sky’s Edge.
I clear my mind and tell myself it’s time to sleep.
Like a damn plague, her image returns to haunt me. She moves across the crowd at the party, hips swaying, black hair moving in synchronicity. Tantalizing glimpses of skin peek from under the lace over her arms and neck as light from the candelabra dances across her figure. She stops, whips her glossy hair out of the way with a practiced hand, and glances back over her shoulder. Her red-painted lips stretch in a crooked smile. Her hazel eyes twinkle, inviting. My gaze drops slowly, descending from her long, graceful neck down the length of her spine, all the way to the curve of her lower back. My hand tingles. I want to snake my fingers over the area where her backside begins to curve. I want to pull her close and feel her breasts pressed against my chest. I want to?—
Dammit!
My cock is rock hard.
I sit up with a jolt, get out of bed, and pace in front of the bed. This is highly irregular. I can’t allow this to happen.
You need to head to Drake’s Row right this minute. The only reason you keep thinking of her is because you’re aroused.
The idea doesn’t comfort me. It might if it were true, but that’s not the only reason thoughts of her keep infiltrating into my mind’s eye the way a damn Screechclaw infiltrates our border.
The real reason is that I find her extremely attractive and alluring.
Dammit all to the Seven Hells!
Despite her power and the fact that her impending bonding proves my decision right, I should never have chosen her. I should have listened to my gut when it warned me she’d be trouble.
I collapse back into bed. Tossing and turning, I fight to go to sleep. When her figure appears before me, I push it away, imagining shadows raining down on her. They attack her, slowly eating away at her edges until they devour her completely and only darkness is left behind.
* * *
An insistent knockat the door sends me from a troubled sleep to an upright position. Immediately, I reach out through our bond and touch Fragor’s mind. I get a glimpse of his lair, a large cave carved into Sky’s Edge, a shelter as old as time. A jolt of anger and restlessness shoots through me. He’s upset.
Dammit! What’s going on?
In three strides, I’m at the door. I pull it open before I even think of putting on a shirt. A messenger boy dressed in a red suit stands there, looking pale and slightly terrified, as if worried I might eat him. He holds a small silver tray in both hands, a folded and sealed note sitting on top. He meekly proffers the tray. I take the note and close the door.
The black wax seal belongs to the Sky Order’s Bolt Signals.
