And honestly, he’s sorta right. I always feel better after flying with my friend slash boss. It’s a different perspective on the tiny monster haven that’s my new home.
His incredible muscles bunch underneath my thighs, and then he takes off into the sky, soaring between two enormous trees. I press into his muscular back, having learned the first time we flew that he is utterly unconcerned about being whipped in the face with branches. And he forgets that I amhighlyconcerned about it.
When wind drags my hair behind me, I look around. We’re above the treetops, Malik’s wings beating the sky in steady, birdlike movements. I never took much time to stare at bird wings before I started riding Malik, but his are so large, it’s easier to see the full range of motion.
First they curl up into an inverted U, then they press forward straight ahead, and finally they swoop down and back up againinto a U. Flight is such a wild and weird thing, but I often get lost in the movement of his wings when we fly.
Down below, the dense forest surrounding Shifter Hollow moves lazily by. Malik swoops low over the lake. From this altitude, the mermaids’ city below the surface is partially visible despite being set deep along the lake’s bottom.
We leave it behind as tiny gusts of wind dance over my cheeks and hair, tangling it into a knot that’s always a bitch to get out. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, loving how the wind kisses my skin, its temperature cool in comparison to the warmth of the sunrays that filter through Ever’s bubble-shaped protective ward.
The flight is over too soon, Malik descending gently out of the sky to land in the middle of Sycamore Street. His feet touch down, and he folds his wings back, as cautious as ever not to jostle me. I stay seated on his back for a moment, sad as the wisps of wind that always follow me disappear.
Malik shifts from one foot to the other, swishing his tail from side to side. I pop my eyes open to see him staring over his shoulder at me. “Everything alright, Lou? We’re here.”
“Yeah, I know,” I murmur. “I was enjoying the perfect sunny weather.”
He snorts. “Seventy-eight percent of havens pick a weather pattern and stick to it year round. That’s why it’s always the same here within Ever’s wards. But just under twenty percent of havens opt to follow the weather patterns of wherever they’re located. It’s fascinating to me. Can you imagine living in a haven where it was sunny one day and a blizzard the next?”
I match his disbelieving sound. “Uh, yeah. I lived in New York state when I was in the human world. I can absolutely believe that. The sun is what’s so nice of a change though. Normally in winter in New York, the skies are gray for a few months straight.”
“I feel so bad for humans,” Malik says on a sigh. “Not being able to control the weather, not having magic.” He crosses his arms and sighs again loudly.
“Thank gods we had potions and crystals though,” I remind him. “You’d love the little shop I worked in before I came here to be with my nieces.”
I slide off his back, brushing horse hair off my jeans. When I look up at my boss, he’s staring at an adorable red, white and turquoise retro-style diner in front of us. A flashing neon sign on a tall pole tells us it’s the Galloping Green Bean.
I elbow Malik in the side. “Did you see Alba through the window?”
He snorts like a horse and stomps a foreleg, his tail lashing against his sides. “Not yet. Perhaps she’s not working today, or her nephew, Taylor, is covering for her.”
“Well,” I say with a laugh, “let’s go see, friend.”
Ten minutes later, we’re seated in a colorful booth on the far back wall of the Galloping Green Bean. I’m on a red bench seat, and Malik rests opposite me on one of the long, curved centaur benches they use in lieu of chairs. It seems like it should be awkward watching someone with four legs and two arms “sit,” but he makes it look graceful. If I glanced quickly, it would seem like a hot human guy was sitting across from me.
He sips at his water, glancing around surreptitiously, blue eyes roving the room. I know he requested this booth so he could look for Alba without having to glance behind him.
“See her yet?” I whisper over my menu.
He shakes his head, disappointment obvious on his handsome, angular features. Honestly, Alba’s missing out if shedoesn’t take him up on it when he finally asks her out. He’s like Legolas and a centaur smashed together, with better style. The fitted vest he wears accentuates his broad shoulders and thick, muscular chest.
“She’s probably not here,” he murmurs. “I could have asked Taylor. I saw him this morning. Gosh, I’m an idiot.”
Reaching across the table, I place my hand on top of his. “Malik, just make the move. The worst that can happen is she says no.”
He visibly pales, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat off his brow.
“Malik!” a brash female voice echoes off the shiny metal roof.
His worried expression falls, a broad smile replacing it as he rises from the bench.
I turn as Alba trots to our table, stopping next to our booth with a scratch pad in one hand and a purple pen in the other. She’s usually gruff and sarcastic—love that—but she beams at Malik. Only for Malik, I’ve noticed.
Gods, they’re so fucking cute.
He shifts on the bench and runs a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in his manbun. Blushing, he rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. “Alba, how are you?”
“Busy,” she says with a smile. “But glad you’re here. Do you need a few minutes with the menu?”
