The reassurance he broadcast at Aimi—because somehow, he felt her worry for him—was perhaps a tad more confident than Brandon actually felt. Then again, he needed confidence right now.

Plummeting to the ground gave a man time to reflect on things, such as vowing to never pass up a chance to eat cheeseburgers slathered in every condiment known to man from a fast food truck. He also needed to visit the Grand Canyon and see a sunset just because he’d always thought it looked cool on television. But the thing he still wanted to do most? Fuck moonbeam within an inch of her life because he felt like a moron for passing up the chance.

All the optimism and confidence in the world couldn’t hide the fact that he was going to die—smashed into the ground, creating a Brandon slurry. He saw his demise in her frantic flight, heard it in the panic oozing somehow from her to him.

And then it occurred to him.

I can fly, too. At least he used to, but the question was, could he change shapes, back into the hybrid one he’d met Aimi in?

Is anybody in there?

For a second, he could hear shades of Pink Floyd in that phrase.

Yes. I am always here.

He noticed how his gator’s words didn’t seem to roll the S’s anymore. When had it learned to control its accent?

There is no it anymore. Me, myself, and I are one.

Not quite the sanest thing he’d ever heard, but no point quibbling. Want to give me a hand here?

Don’t you mean a wing?

Whatever. Didn’t it figure his other side had lost its accent and acquired a sense of humor.

He closed his eyes, mostly to ignore the earth rushing at him. Arms and legs spread wide could only do so much to slow a man’s descent.

At first, he felt nothing. Why isn’t this working? He forced himself to shut down the outside world and tug on that part of him inside that used to house his beast, except it wasn’t there.

Where had it gone?

Everything is one now.

There it was again, that assertion that they weren’t two entities. What a strange concept. He and his beast had always each had thoughts, distinct ones, while sharing one body.

Not sharing. Not anymore.

It implied there was no line between man and beast.

Not implying, stating.

All is one.

If true, then flipping shapes should be as simple as moving a limb.

Snap. Ouch. Still fucking painful, too.

The bad news, he lost his damned shirt, and it was chilly enough to make nipples cut glass. The good news?

I’ve got wings. Whoosh. He banked on the air currents, a gradual loop so as to take his momentum into account. His wings extended, catching air.

You didn’t die!

The exuberant exclamation hit him almost physically, and he recoiled. He peered upward and, despite the dark night sky, saw a silver streak heading for him.

No way was he letting her grab him again. He’d been emasculated enough for one day.

Where are you going? she asked. We have to return to the plane.

Back onto that death trap? No, thank you.

No, thank you? How polite.

Did she just read his thoughts?

Not exactly. It’s more like you don’t hide them very well.

Did that mean everyone could hear him? How utterly appalling.

Not everyone. Only me, on account we are connected.

“Are you telling me I hear you because I’m reading your thoughts?” Brand spoke out loud because the mind thing just seemed freakishly wrong.

You hear only the thoughts I’m projecting at you.

Like this? He squinted his eyes and projected one message. Don’t grab me like a mouse.

No need to shout. I hear you fine, and you hear me fine, and I won’t grab you if you stop flying away and come back with me to the plane.

The problem with following her back was that the plane didn’t seem too safe right now. He could see it angling toward the ground, looking to make an emergency stop. Only an idiot would go back on board, or—he glanced at her and noted her craning toward the plane—someone who had family still within.

“Let’s go save them.”

Save them? Her mental query sounded genuinely confused. Save them from what?

“Crashing. Death.” When she blinked at him, with a translucent set of eyelids, he added more clues. “As in fiery ball of doom. Kaboom.” He blew up his hands.

She laughed, a trilling sound as she dove and wove around him, her body undulating on the air currents, close and yet not touching him.

It was oddly erotic.

The plane is not blowing up. There is plenty of open space for landing in this area. And even if it did look like it might hit hard, we’re not wilting flowers. We are Silvergrace. We would survive. We always survive.

How ominous sounding. But in a sense, it reminded him of the Mercer clan. As his grand-mère often said, “Yeah, we get shit on, but when it happens, we always rise above and manage to whoop some tail.”

“Well, if you’re not worried about them at all, then why do you want to rejoin them? I, for one, would prefer to ditch the plane. Falling from way too many thousands of feet isn’t something I’m in the mood to repeat.”

I’m sure there are no wyverns left to cause trouble.

“Wyverns being?”

The smaller, much less awesome creatures.

“And the one you fought at the end, it was a dragon, like you?” He might have been falling, but he couldn’t help but catch parts of what had happened between Aimi and the red adversary.

The other dragon was gone. Just ashed into flakes and blown away.

That was a red dragon, not as lovely as me, of course. Nor as talented, given I won the battle. Was it him, or did the silver dragon do a fist pump? Or was that claw?

It should have terrified him the kind of power she had. It should have, at the very least, inspired a scratch of his balls—which was totally less satisfying in this hybrid shape, given they were tucked inside with a good portion of his cock. Traumatizing when he’d first seen it, and he’d gone into a minor depression over them shrinking his dick.

I am pleased to announce I am still just as big as ever. Make that bigger.

“I say we ditch your family and go do this thing on our own.”

Okay. Her reply came immediately.

That seemed rather easy. Then again, perhaps she said yes for a reason. Ditching the Silvergrace girls on board now would save them from getting involved. Great plan. However, it still left Aimi in danger. I need to keep her safe.

Or he could trust that she was even tougher than him and not likely to be happy if he did anything to cut her out of the action. Chivalry warred with her happiness.

Protecting her would piss her off. It said he thought her incapable of being his partner. Thing was, he knew she could handle it. Probably better than he could. Look at how well she’d handled the attack. No tears or hysterics, no wild flailing with a frying pan or using silver buckshot. Aimi fought, no weapon but herself. And she’d won.

Only an idiot wouldn’t want her playing on his team.

Still, he had to try. “Are you sure you want to ditch them? I thought you wanted your sister and cousins to tag along on this birthday party mission.”

More glory and reward for us if we handle it ourselves.

Good point. Funny how his agreeing didn’t seem strange at all. Then again, who wouldn’t want more rewards?

Speaking of getting something valuable, he flipped to his back, letting his wings flutter and fan the air so he could see Aimi coasting alongside him on the current. He couldn’t deny how nice he found it.

It wasn’t the first time he’d flown with someone, but he preferred to forget about the rabid freak Bittech tried to pair him with. A few missions with that psycho reptile—a failed version of Brandon, as his uncle liked to remind him—had been enough to make him see the merit in putting down rabid pets.

Flying with Aimi proved interesting, first because he felt kind of small beside her. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t get an impression of overwhelming weight as she skimmed over him, her frame casting a shadow as it blocked starlight.

“I don’t think I ever did get an explanation of how you can be so big. I’ve seen some people defy the laws of science, especially the bear breeds, those are some big dudes, but their bears are even bigger. But you, you’re the size of a—”

Say house, and I will eat you.

“—house. Let me know what time you’re dining and I’ll drop my pants.” It was probably the most brazen thing he’d said to a woman in years, perhaps ever. Rude. Crude. And for some reason, he thought it ridiculously funny. So he laughed.

To his surprise, she sent him mental chuckles, and in that moment, he realized an interesting thing. Aimi might be a dragon, but she was still the woman he’d met, too. What she could become did not take away from her droll sense of humor and single-mindedness. He found himself rather in awe of her, and in lust. He also totally coveted her. A silver prize to start my hoard. I shall find her jewels to enhance her beauty. Fine silks to caress her body.

What the hell? He shook his head.

Is there a problem, Brand? she asked.

Yeah, there was because he now couldn’t help but think of her in terms of possession, as in keeping. When did that start to happen?

Probably because she kept insisting he belonged to her. He just couldn’t figure out why she wanted him.

What does she see in me?

He’d forgotten about their link and so could have punched something in embarrassment when she replied, I see a sexy hunk of treasure.