Expensive - Amy Bellows Page 0,52
my mind, which is how we communicate in our dragon forms. It’s a visualization of me swinging a leg across his back and grabbing hold of the plates that jut out from his spine.
How many omegas has Howard saved from desperate situations? And why did he decide he needed to do this? Most alphas don’t care what happens to us.
I guess his motives are none of my business.
While holding my robe in place, I swing my leg over him, just like in his projected image. But I am much more awkward than he imagined, and I end up holding onto his plates to avoid losing my balance, rather than to prepare myself for flight. Unfortunately, he misunderstands, and leaps off the ground before I’m ready. I cling to him in desperation, my stomach leaping in my chest as we become airborne. This is very different from flying myself or riding in a plane. A wave of nausea washes over me, and I sincerely hope I don’t throw up on his back. What a way to thank someone for helping me out.
We climb higher and higher in the sky. My stomach becomes used to the sway of his wings, and before long, I can’t help but enjoy the cool, autumn wind blowing in my hair, and the freedom of being in the sky. With a deep sadness, I realize tonight might be the last time I get to ride through the air like this. I may never be able to take my dragon form again, and another dragon isn’t likely to let me ride them.
We fly for a long time, until the sun dips in the sky and the hunger in my stomach becomes almost unbearable. We’re in the middle of the ocean when something bright looms in the distance. It isn’t a city or even a lighthouse. The light isn’t steady. It comes and goes like a flame. Like a candle.
I don’t need Howard to tell me we’re nearing our destination.
It seems to move as we get closer and closer. One moment it’s to my right, then the next it’s to my left. Howard keeps flying steadily forward, unconcerned by the irregular movement of what I assume is a stationary island.
He’s been here before. I can feel it in my bones.
As we get closer, I realize the light I’m seeing is coming from the windows of a house lit up from within. Maybe house is the wrong word. It’s a castle. A mansion. Countless windows shine in contrast to the night sky—until they don’t. One second they’re there, and the next they’re gone. No, not gone. Warped. Bent. Like the curved underside of a candle’s flame.
Howard begins descending. I’m not ready. A part of me wants to tell him to take me back. Timber and I can run away together. Even without Manny, we’ll find a place to go. For a hopeful moment, I allow myself to imagine it. We’ll bring my books and Frankie. We’ll find safety together in some run-down apartment where the landlord is willing to accept cash and the false names we provide.
But it wouldn’t last. My father would find us. And everything about our fragile life would disappear in smoke. Including the future of the egg inside me.
I have to do this whether I like it or not.
Howard touches down on a coast full of jagged rocks. Once we get past the sealine, my toes sink into the soft, cool sand. I want to stay on the beach instead of venturing farther inland where the mansion stands—the edges of the windows still blurry and changing shape. This close, the house seems more like an apparition or a mirage than a real building. It’s uncomfortable to look at.
Howard tosses his bag onto the sand and begins to shrink back into his human form. I turn toward the water so he can put on some clothes.
This coast doesn’t have the same tranquil beauty of the Rixton beach or the cliffs of the Pallisade Ice Baths. The waves are too high, and they crash violently on the shore. It’s cold here, which I would normally like. But the chill travels up my bare legs underneath the robe, leaving me feeling exposed.
“Come over here, Andrew,” Howard calls out.
I look back to see Howard wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt instead of the suit he had on back at his office. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on vacation, taking a leisurely stroll on the