Expensive - Amy Bellows Page 0,30
them to shift privately and fly high enough into the sky that the clouds mask them from the world below.
This part of the roof is flat with a lone closet poking out from the roof shingles like a chimney. When I saw the closet for the first time, it seemed like a door to Narnia or somewhere equally magical. But when I opened it, all I found was a clothing rack with empty hangers and a few cubbies for shoes and other personal items. Some dragon shifters store a part of their hoard in closets like this. We can only shift when our hoard is near. But my library is so large that the roof is close enough for me to shift without any trouble.
I quickly remove my clothing, setting it in the appropriate areas, and then allow myself to expand into my dragon form.
As a human, I’m nothing extraordinary—just a man with the kind of body that comes from a reasonable dedication to a workout routine. But as I grow into my animal form and sprout bright blue scales, I feel powerful. Great translucent wings stretch out behind me and long claws extend from my paws. But that isn’t the source of my true power. The reason why ice dragon shifters are feared and revered is waiting inside my mouth.
As my grandfather used to say, fire is messy. It’s unpredictable and difficult to control. Fire dragons can cause their share of destruction, but an ice dragon can target exactly whatever or whoever they want to freeze. And the temperature of the ice that comes from my throat is cold enough to kill.
I spread my huge, glorious wings and leap toward the sky, pushing against the wind with a powerful thrust. The autumn air is cool against my scales and gets more frigid the higher I climb. Up here, something innate and instinctual takes over. I don’t have to concentrate on staying airborne. It comes naturally. Everything about my dragon form has always felt right, and flying usually lifts my spirits when I’m sad.
But today it isn’t enough to push away the ache in my chest.
It isn’t enough to push away the guilt either.
Timber wanted to end things because he was worried about what my father or the Monroes might do to me. He never stopped to consider what might happen to him. He never worried about his own safety.
He should have.
There was a time when ice dragon shifters ruled the world. The fire dragons were our second in command, terrorizing the countrysides and towns with their unpredictable destruction We weren’t moral rulers. We taxed the world to the brink of starvation and killed everyone we didn’t like. We didn’t just chop of their heads, either. We devised horrible ways to torture them first.
It wasn’t a good time for humanity.
In the end, it was guerilla warfare that put end to the era of the dragons. The ice bears of the north fought back with metal whips that unleashed death with every crack. The wolf shifters used their enormous numbers to overwhelm the dragons, prying off sections of our scales with their teeth while their human friends swung axes at our freshly exposed chests. Even the rabbit shifters fought back by poisoning the food they raised for us at random, so we were unable to eat without risking death.
The entire world turned against us until there were only a handful left. Those ice dragons were wise enough to flee. But not without bringing their mountains of gold. Even while in danger, their greed was more motivating than their sense of self preservation.
I’ve often wondered how much of a dragon shifter’s personality is predetermined by our biology. When I was growing up, I noticed that all of the ice dragon shifters around me were innately consumed by greed in a way that other shifters weren’t. Every single one of them had done something despicable in pursuit of money or status.
Even my omega father told lies about one of his colleagues who was competing against him for tenure.
A part of me knows I shouldn’t bring Timber into my world of greed and ice. He’s too kind—too good. He doesn’t understand what my father or the Monroes would be willing to do in order to have control over my fortune. A young ice dragon shifter widow from an arranged bonding much like the one I had with Edward Monroe was chained up in his own house for ten years by his former mate’s family.