Extraits

She was dark purple when I first saw her, but she’s a solid silver right now. I’ve never seen a gryphon change colors completely after answering the call. Usually they become a mix of whatever color they’ve joined to; this is all new to me,” a tenor voice announces.

“Maybe it has to do with her Ouphe blood?” a female asks.

“It’s possible. Her color is strong though, no sign of fading or weakness like I’ve seen in passing gryphons.”

“She’s been out for a week, Ami. You keep saying that, but it doesn’t mean rut all if she never wakes up!” Ryn shouts.

“You should have warned me you were coming,” Zeph berates.

An irritated huff fills the room. “I told you, I didn’t have a choice. I only reacted to what I felt. If you had been protecting her better, she would have never forced me there!” Ryn accuses.

“Altern, Syta, please.”

My eyelids snap open, and I cringe against the bright light that assaults me. I blink back the brightness and find Zeph and Ryn squaring off with each other. Ami is watching them from the side of my bed, and Loa is moving to get between Ryn and Zeph. I sit up slowly with a groan, and all eyes in the room snap to mine. I quickly fist the falling sheet at my chest, realizing that I’m once again naked in my bed.

“Why the fuck am I always naked when I wake up in here? Which one of you perverts keeps making that happen?” I croak, my voice deep and gravelly from disuse.

“See, I told you she’d be fine eventually,” Ami proclaims.

The story of what I thought I was when I woke up flying in the sky that first time, slipped out one night when I was working late at Tysa’s house. She and her mate, Moro, laughed so hard they had tears streaming down their face, and now I have black dragon scale-looking Narwagh armor. Tysa is the fucking best, and aside from Sutton, my only friend here. The looks of mistrust and disdain from people are still a daily occurrence, but mostly they just ignore me now, which I suppose is a step in the right direction.

Sutton snaps his fingers in front of my face a couple of times. “Focus, Falon, you’re as bad as Sarai sometimes with daydreaming and distractions.”

Holy shit, I’m a dragon! How the fuck am I a dragon?

I look around, and shock filters through my excitement and disorientation. I’m soaring over cliffs that are a reddish-purple, and not because the setting sun turned them that color, they just happen to be reddish-purple mountains. There are patches of trees and other greenery speckled about, and I know right away that I am not surrounded by the Rocky Mountains anymore. I’m a fucking dragon, somehow flying through the sky, in a place I’ve never seen before, and I have no idea how any of it is happening.

A glittering light catches my eye, and I realize it’s a lake of some sort. I have the sudden drive to see if I can catch what I look like in the reflection of the water. Just as that thought flashes through my mind, I feel myself lean in that direction and give a couple powerful flaps of my massive wings to propel me exactly where I want to go. It seems I’m a narcissistic dragon. I ride the wind toward the sparkling lake and try to figure out how my dragon body just seems to know how to do this.

I’m shoved against a wall as soon as I clear the doorway, and lips seal to mine. The kiss is hurried, a little messy, but I can work with that. I grind my hips forward, and the hard bulge in his pants protrudes against my lower stomach. I reach down and start to undo the button on his jeans. I moan as Trevor—shit, I think that’s his name, or was it Turner?—runs his hand under my shirt and cups my breast with a firm squeeze. His tongue swirls with mine as I try to recall what he said his name was when he approached me at the bar. All I can really remember was the brown scruff dusting his jaw, muscles, and the hint of his farmer’s tan peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt.

I take over the kiss, modeling for him exactly what I like. I dive into the memory of when he came to talk to me, and dig through it for his name.

“Your boyfriend’s been in the bathroom a long time,” a tan, brown-eyed, brown-haired man tells me, pointing to the helmet sitting in the seat next to me.

I finish the bite of food in my mouth and then run my gaze up the stranger’s lean but nicely muscled body. I take a discreet inhale of the air around me and pick up a distinct pine and soil scent. He’s a wolf shifter. He gives me a knowing smile, and it’s clear he’s already picked up the same olfactory hints from me. I reach out and lift my helmet off the seat and place it on the polished wood of the bar I’m sitting at. I don’t bother correcting the boyfriend comment. I’m decked out from head to toe in riding armor, and the helmet’s obviously mine. He’s either stupid or shit at opening lines; either way, he’s pretty to look at and currently exactly what I’m looking for.

I take another bite of my burger as Tan and Pretty sits down next to me. I unzip my jacket and shrug it off, exposing the gray ribbed tank top I’m wearing underneath and a lot more skin. He takes another deep inhale, and his arm brushes against mine. I’m just a shade lighter than him, but I have my father to thank for the extra dose of melanin and not the sun. My grandmother said he was from some island somewhere, although it was easier to sit through a bikini wax than to get her to be more specific than that. She never liked talking about him much.

Travis, or whatever the fuck his name is, tries to take control and bites at my bottom lip a little too hard. It yanks me from my wandering thoughts. I growl at him and then return the favor, and he hisses at me. I’m tired of this freshman make out session that’s going on. I want to fuck, shower, and get a little sleep before I need to get back on the road, and Tyler is not being nearly as aggressive as he was at the bar. I want a hot hook up, not a slow and sensual lesson in the merits of the karma sutra.

I suck on his tongue and muscle myself away from the wall I’m pressed against. I flip our positions and slam him back. The yellowing plaster of the wall cracks a little, but I doubt the manager will notice; this motel room isn’t exactly a five star establishment. I grab Tate’s hands and direct them to my ass, and then I reach down and rub at his hard length which is, annoyingly, still in his pants. I kiss him harder, but instead of the growl and aggressive response that I’m hoping for, Tristan stiffens.

I pull back to look at him, and irritation flashes through me when his eyes aren’t filled with heat like they were at the bar or when he was just feeling me up.

“I don’t like dominant play,” he informs me.

I stare at him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds. “Then you shouldn’t pick up chicks more dominant than you,” I challenge.

“I didn’t think you were. You were pretty quiet and went along with my lead back at the bar,” he counters.

“Yeah, because I was eating and didn’t give a shit about whatever the fuck you were talking about.” I separate from him and shake my head as I walk over to the door and open it.

“Are you kicking me out?” he asks, shocked.

“I wanted a good fuck, but at this point, my hand is more likely to give me that than you are,” I answer simply and motion out the open doorway.

He stares at me openmouthed for a few beats as his eyes grow more and more incredulous. “I should have fucking known you’d be some alpha bitch when you got on that butch-ass motorcycle and brought me here,” he accuses, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

My eyes narrow with anger. “That butch-ass bike is a Ducati XDiavel S, and she feels better between my thighs than I’m sure you ever would have. Bye, Troy, wish I could say it was nice to meet you.”

“My name is James,” he barks at me and then stomps out the door, mumbling something about how I probably don’t even like men. He makes a beeline for his shitty truck, and I slam the door, leaning back against it with a huff. James? I could have sworn it started with a T.