Page 41 of Ensnared
I reach inside and bring out a black neoprene suit, a one-piece with long sleeves and legs and a hood. “And this will protect me from freezing?”
Ty nods, eager as a puppy. “Yeah. We can also blow hot bubbles at you if you get too cold.”
Hot bubbles?
I glance up at Jack again, and he shrugs as if to say, ‘You might as well go with it.’
For a moment, I debate with myself whether this is a spectacularly bad idea. The day is overcast and windy, but I suppose this is as warm as Alaska gets on late September afternoons.
“Okay,” I relent. “Let me get changed.”
Five minutes later, I’m ready. The neoprene sticks to my skin and rubs uncomfortably on my thighs, but it fits well enough. The sleeves and legs are still a little too long, so I turn them back, and the zipper strains over my breasts. Other than that, I think it’ll do the trick. Even the smell gets less noxious after a couple of minutes. Princess Penny doesn’t seem to agree. She comes close, sniffs me, barks, and retreats.
“Yeah, I get that,” I tell her.
Ty pulls a pair of black booties from the bag and hands them to me. “We won’t be doing any diving today, so I didn’t bring the oxygen tanks. Besides, you’d need to get certified for that. I thought we’d just try and see if you like it, and then we can get you your own wet suit and gear so you don’t have to borrow this one.”
He’s talking fast and fumbles with the zipper, so I take his hand and smile up at him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
We head down to the beach, away from the village and anyone who might see that I’m accompanying the sea dragons on this excursion. On the pebbles, Jack and Ty strip naked, then walk right into the surf. The sea is calm today, at least this close to the shore. Only gentle waves lap at my feet as I follow them, but Jack calls at me to wait.
“Just so you don’t get hit by a tail or something,” he explains and wades deeper.
They don’t seem to be affected by the cold at all. Ty salutes me, then dives in, his sleek body disappearing under the waves. Seconds later, a massive head pokes from the surface, and he returns to the shallows in the form of a magnificent sea dragon.
Where Jack’s dragon is blue and almost white on his back, Ty’s is a study in yellow and green. His scales offer a thousand different hues, flowing from a golden yellow on his stomach to a deep forest green on his tail. There’s a ruff around his neck that reminds me of feathers, and his snout is broader, shorter than Jack’s.
I wade closer, my feet cool but not freezing in the protective gear. With careful steps, I walk under one wing and trail my fingers on the thin, leathery membrane.
Ty grumbles and pulls his wing close, folding it against his body.
“Does that tickle?” I ask him, and he dips his big head in answer.
He’s fascinating. I press my palm to his flank, feeling the heat of him. Then I come up to his head and look into one great, black eye. Somehow, the same intelligence and humor I’ve become used to shines back at me, even though he’s now a giant scaly creature.
“This is incredible,” I whisper.
Something nudges me from behind, and I whirl to find Jack standing right there. I didn’t even hear him come closer, which just testifies to what perfect predators they are. They could snap me in half with those massive jaws and have me as a snack.
I rub the tip of Jack’s snout, and he breathes warm air over me. “Your scales are kind of pearly here,” I tell him quietly. “So beautiful.”
Ty sniggers. There’s no other word for the sound that comes out of his broad chest. Jack’s silver eyes narrow, then he swishes his tail and smacks Ty in the rear leg.
“Am I not allowed to compliment him?” I ask, grinning. “Because I can tell you, Ty, that I’ve never seen talons as elegant as yours.”
He bumps his snout into me, and I splash into the sea, coming up spluttering and coughing. I swear he’s laughing at me, the bastard, but I can’t really do anything beyond tickle his wings, and he’s too large and fast for me to catch.
Jack nudges me, then glances over his shoulder to his back.
I don’t get what he wants at first. “You know, this no-talking thing is kind of a bummer,” I complain. “We should establish some sort of sign language. Like—flap your right wing for yes. Flap your left wing for no.”
He rolls his eyes and nudges me again, then looks at his back.
“Ohh, you want me to climb on your back.”
With exaggerated patience, he flaps his right wing.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, but I manage to scramble up his front leg and onto his back, despite the wicked spikes raised all around me. There’s a nook just behind his neck that’s smoother than the rest of him, and I straddle it, then grip him tightly.
