Turns out, they’d been following me and Pidge around the whole time, laughing their asses off. I look around the clearing now. I know they’re here, and yet I couldn’t tell you where if my life depended on it. Pidge had a conniption fit when I asked them for help though. She went all flashy and angry and then made me promise to trust her.
That’s when she took things to a whole other level. Here Pigeon and I were, riding high on our perfect execution of a bunch of death-defying shit, when she flashed me the next lesson. She insisted that it was vitally important to clean my wings each time I partially shifted...with my tongue. I, being the dumbass that I am, trusted her. I was about four feather licks in when she finally admitted she was fucking with me.
“It took me the rest of the day to get the feather fuzz out of my mouth!” I shout at her when the image my thoughts conjure up sends her into another fit of gryphon purr-chuff giggles.
“Just for that, I’m going to put a stop to the explicit fantasies I’ve been allowing to play out in our head for the last three nights. You know, the ones about us with Treno...and Ryn. I was on board with your dirty little daydreams because I knew it made your kinky ass happy, but tonight...tonight I’m going to replay every detail of Downton Abbey that I can remember. How do you like them apples?” I threaten.
I get the distinct impression—from Pigeon’s new fit of gryphon giggles—that she might be calling me out on my insinuation that she was the only one enjoying those fantasies. I say nothing, and she gives me a condescending mental “mmm-hhmmmmm.”
“Anyway, that’s not the point,” I defend. “I want you to swear on all of your dirty gryphon porn hopes that this next challenge is serious,” I demand.
Pigeon sends me an image of her crossing over her heart with her talons and then raising them to the side like she’s being sworn in as a witness or something. I exhale a resigned breath and pinch my temples.
Fuck, this is going to hurt.
Pigeon takes over, and we rise easily into the sky. She circles the clearing we’ve been working in and then drops. As we dive, she replays the sequence that we’re trying to accomplish, and I concentrate on each step. Our wings shoot out at our sides, and we activate our feathered flaps and slow. I shove forward until I own our body again. My feet hit the ground, and a cheer roars inside of me when I don’t immediately biff it.
I get exactly three strides in...and then biff it. I smash into the ground hard, but my feet don’t get the awww fuck memo, because they keep going. The next thing I know, I’ve folded myself ass over head, and I’m pretty sure I need to get very comfortable with this position, because I’ll never be able to move again. I grunt, stuck, as the dirt and debris settle around me.
“Sandra Bullock made this bobcat-pretzel thing look a hell of a lot sexier in Two Weeks Notice,” I observe as Pigeon proceeds to lose her shit.
She just keeps showing me images of a two-by-four flipping end over end across the ground, as if that’s supposed to mean something to me.
Fucking chirpy little parakeet.
Just when I’m on the verge of shouting I’ve fallen and I can’t get up and assume things can’t get any worse, a round of clapping starts up inside the trees to my right.
Just kill me now.
12
The clapping starts to sound louder, and I roll my eyes. Pigeon and I are giving Sice and Dri enough material for them to start a long and prosperous career in standup comedy. They’re the life of the tavern now, or so they say, regaling the patrons with stories of my epic fails and all the dumb shit Pigeon makes me do. I stay firmly planted in the pool of mortification I’m currently lounging in and wait for one of them to come help me up.
“Just when I think you can’t get any more interesting, Falon, you do something that proves just how wrong I was,” Ryn states, humor and amusement leaking out of his tone in spite of his obvious efforts to stem them.
I freeze, shocked that he’s here, and try to keep my cool despite my current predicament.
“That’ll teach you to underestimate me,” I chirp, rolling my eyes at him and at myself, because fucking hell, I really can’t move. My legs are wedged somehow in front of me, and I’m stuck in a fucked up backbend from hell.
I spit to clear my mouth of some of the dirt that’s invaded and try to think through how the fuck to get out of this.
“A little help here, Pidge?” I order.
She ignores me, focused fully on Ryn as he slowly moves closer to us.
“What are you doing here?” I ask on a grunt as I attempt to get my arms underneath me so I can de-pretzel myself. “Aren’t you supposed to be off fighting a war? Remind me which side you’re on though, because I still can’t tell,” I snark.
Ryn snorts out a laugh, and his leather boots come into my line of sight. He doesn’t immediately move to help me, and I growl.
This fucker is going to make me beg, I just know it.
“So what are you up to out here, unprotected and alone?” Ryn asks, and there’s a hint of something I can’t quite put my finger on in his tone.
Concern? Incredulity? Relief?
“Oh you know, just falling for my gryphon’s bullshit,” I answer casually and spit a little more dirt out of my mouth.
“If I touch you, will your gryphon take issue with it?” he queries, a slight rise in his voice on the word gryphon, betraying the confidence he’s currently exuding.
I check in with Pigeon to gauge how she’s feeling right now. The erotic fantasies must have worked like a magic eraser, because I sense none of the rage that was there when she tried to kill him before. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that she’s kicking back with a bowl of popcorn, eager to see how things are going to unfold.
“She said she’d make an exception just this once,” I lie, apparently not very well either, because Ryn chuckles like he can see right through it.
I zing of warmth shoots right through me as Ryn grabs me by the waist and picks me up. He manhandles me like I weigh nothing and sets me on my feet in a move that shouldn’t be so easy for him and so hard for me.
I push my mess of hair out of my eyes, and Ryn’s holding a small canteen out to me. I eye it for a second and then him before reaching out for it. I take a deep pull, intending to swish and wash my mouth out, but it’s not water like I thought it was. Sweetness explodes in my mouth, and I immediately choke on it, surprised by the flavor when I expected there to be none.
I bend over and spit the saccharine-laced liquid out of my mouth. I then proceed to attempt to hack up both of my lungs.
“Cum on a tree sprite, Falon, don’t try to kill yourself so soon after I just rescued you,” he teases, hitting my back firmly to help clear my lungs of fluid.
I finally get a hold of myself and manage to straighten up. I take another pull from the canteen still in my hands, this time expecting the explosion of flavor. I clean my mouth out and then drink a good amount down.
“Careful,” Ryn warns, “Toag nectar is used when a soldier needs energy in a long battle. There’s no telling what it might do to your more delicate sensibilities.”
I snort. “I’m tough, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Altern,” I challenge, using the title he has amongst the Hidden.