Page 31 of A Witch and Her Dragon
As long as she didn’t dream of a dragon, I don’t mind mysterious figures in the fog.
I flick my gaze back up to the stained glass, trying to see past the witch and into the sky beyond, but all I can make out is diffuse gray light.
Yet I know that up above the clouds somewhere, soaring through the storm, there’s a dragon.
And I’m the one who released it.
Chapter 15
Raelan
I. AM. FREE.
My wings beat the air, carrying my body higher, higher. Thunder rumbles, and lightning strikes in the distance. But even this force of nature pales in comparison to me, to the power thrumming through my veins.
I burst through the dense cloud cover, and sunlight strikes my face, warms my scaled body as it cuts through the thin cold air.
It’s quiet up here, above the clouds, where only sunlight can touch. All I hear is the wind and the sound of my wings beating against the currents.
But here I am. Free.
Joy spirals inside me, and I twist through the sky, feeling the kiss of the air on every inch of my body and every glistening scale, spreading my talons and twining my neck, finally free of the bite of metal and magic. I can’t remember when last I soared above the clouds, but the humanmemory lurking inside my body tells me it’s been much too long.
In this form, in my true form, I feel that I can breathe at last, like I’ve been holding my breath underwater, trying desperately to claw and fight my way to the surface. And now that I’m here, I never want to go back. I want to fly for miles, for days, for years. I never want to touch foot to the earth again.
Untilherface flashes in my memory.
Blue hair. Brown cheeks. Eyes that burn.
Alina.MyAlina.
When she looked up at me from where she lay sprawled in the grass, Ialmosttook her, almost wrapped my talons around her and carried her into the sky. Only the terror on her face stayed my claws.
She reminds me of who—and what—I am.
I am Raelan Ashvale. And I will never leave her behind. So I must return, even if my very cells reject the idea of being forced once more into our human form, into what can feel like a too-small cage squeezing my body into a cramped, contorted shape.
My body yearns for her, my blood burns for her. She’s mine.
Mine.
Mine.
And I have to have her. My heart whispers her name with every pump of blood through my veins, with every flap of my inky wings.
But not like that. Not when her face is etched with fear and her body is shaking with terror. I won’t claim heragainst her will, won’t sink my fangs into her throat unless she agrees with her whole being to be my mate, to bind herself to me forever.
And that will never happen. I know it as surely as I feel the autumn sun upon my scales. And the grief makes me scream to the sky, blasting fire into the endless blue.
So, I fly. I fly as high as I can, until the air gets so thin I can scarcely breathe. Then I tilt my wings and send my body into a downward spiral, plummeting back toward the clouds below.
And I relish this moment, this freedom, knowing that soon, very soon, I will have to abandon it once more. And abandon it I will. But I won’t do it for myself.
I’ll do it for her.
Always for her.
Even if she’ll never be mine.
