Page 3 of Wicked

There are some exceptions, of course. Polar bear shifters use their bear arms to weld, aquatic shifters sometimes take their animal forms during fishing expeditions or to perform scientific studies under water, and some of the larger shifter species are recruited as mercenaries to use their animal forms for violent purposes. Dragon shifters are an obvious choice.

The dragon hits the pavement with all four paws and tucks in their large wings. That’s when I notice the man riding atop the dragon’s back. How strange. I didn’t think blue bloods let people ride them.

The man’s cheeks are flushed from exertion and his auburn hair is windswept. He’s small for an alpha but completely confident atop the dragon, as if riding a blue blood is as natural as breathing to him.

He looks down at me. The moment our eyes lock, a wild thrill shoots through me like lightning. Bliss and electricity and a deep rightness overwhelm me all at the same time. For a second, I wonder if he’s a sorcerer who’s cast a spell to claim my heart. He’s on a fucking dragon, for God’s sake. He could be anything.

In a lot of ways, it feels like he has a thrall. If he wasn’t an alpha, I’d be sure of it.

Then it hits me. Thralls are meant to mimic a very specific experience: meeting your fated mate for the first time.

Oh my God. Is Dorian Gray’s hitman my fated mate?

2

Manny

From this high in the sky, New York City is nothing but fragments of light.

The sky is cold tonight, and I was in such a rush, I didn’t grab a jacket. All I can do is lean close to Anne’s large, scaly neck as her body sways rhythmically with the beat of her powerful wings. The city twinkles below us—too far away for the hum of the cars or the chatter of the people on the sidewalks to be audible. It’s so peaceful up here.

Before the danger and stress of every mission, it’s nice to have a few minutes in the sky to calm down.

My phone beeps. I lean forward to slide it from my pocket, losing my balance temporarily and grasping for the sharp scales on Anne’s neck. Twelve years ago, I never would have believed riding on a dragon would become this easy. I’m not even using a harness, and I feel completely secure sitting on the bridge of her shoulders with my legs wrapped around the base of her neck.

I keep a grip on her scales as I look at the screen. It’s a text from Judith, a red wolf shifter from Seattle who’s in my Bible study group. There are seven of us—all from different states—and we all have one thing in common: we worship the red wolf god, even though we’ve been excommunicated from the church.

Judith’s message is a picture of a long-sleeve shirt in the traditional style worn on red wolf shifter compounds across the US. Underneath are the words:Guess what I finished today?

I smile and text her back one-handed.Thank you so much. You are amazing.

Personal possessions are forbidden on the compounds, including clothing. Everyone wears the exact same thing and simply swaps out their dirty clothes for clean ones every Sunday morning before church. As a child, I never had to worry about what to wear or how people would perceive me because of it. There were no haves or have-nots in our community. We shared our resources evenly.

Life outside the compound is very different. I have no choice but to accumulate possessions. It’s hard to not get sucked into the materialism of the world. That’s why the clothing Judith sews me means so much.

I get another text from her.

Do you need more pants?

I glance down at the denim pants she sent me six months ago. I have two others, but those are very worn. Anne’s scales are rough on my clothing.

If it isn’t too much trouble, that would be nice. I can send you money for more fabric and your time.

Like most red wolf shifters who grew up on the compound, Judith doesn’t have a high school diploma and struggles to make ends meet. Sewing clothing for me and some of the others in our scripture study group helps her stay afloat.

Another message from Judith comes through.

Sounds good. But you only need to pay me a hundred dollars.

I pull up Venmo and send her two hundred and fifty dollars. I was very lucky Anne offered me a job less than a week after I was rescued from the pits. I’ve never had to struggle financially the way so many excommunicated red wolf shifters do.

Anne starts her descent as we get closer to the Transmuto Correctional Facility. I lean forward and slip my phone back into my pocket. Just a quick stop to pick up Buddy’s friend Candlewick, then we can be on our way to get H and deal with Dorian Gray.

According to one of the sanctuary’s lawyers, Candlewick has a thrall. That’s always been a difficult thing for me when rescuing unmated omega red wolf shifters. But Candlewick is only half red wolf shifter, so it shouldn’t be too bad.

Anne glides toward a large block building with a mostly empty parking lot. Most shifters wouldn’t be willing to expose their animal forms like this in the middle of the city, but Anne and I have a different relationship with our animal forms than most shifters. We don’t see them as an intimate, private part of ourselves only to be shared with our mates and family. We see them as tools.

Sometimes I wonder what God thinks about my decision to use my animal form that way. I’m trying to save His people, so I hope He’ll forgive the indiscretion.

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