Unfortunately, no. Landing takes practice. Splatting is common.
This is information you should have shared before you pushed me off the bleeding ledge.
Was the ledge bleeding?Tyrez sounded genuinely confused.
The grasslands were growing ever closer.Are we landing in the grasses?
Yes. They are soft and squishy.
Never in a million years would Ash have thought Tyrez was a Dragon who used the word “squishy.”
Hey, it’s a good word.
Just help me out here. What the hell do I do?
Tilt your wings like this to shed momentum.Tyrez showed him the proper angle.Focus on a spot—try to stay away from the rocks.
Not squishy,Ash agreed, struggling to mimic the larger Dragon. His progress through the air decreased. A little.
Once you are about a hundred feet from your target, backwing like this. Drop your hindquarters low, stretch out your hind legs. Get ready to grip the ground with your talons.
Ash sailed past Tyrez as the larger Dragon backwinged, but he remained linked mentally as he complied. The ground still seemed to be rushing at him far too fast.
Suddenly, he was there. His hind legs hit hard, but he managed to grab the earth with his talons...
And he did a spectacular face-plant.
Spluttering, he picked himself up. Bits of grass trailed off the leading edge of his wings and neck spikes. He squinted at Tyrez, highly suspicious the Dragon was laughing at him.
Grass and dirt are not squishy at all,he complained.
For a first effort, that was rather good. I crashed into a tree. A very bristly tree.
Meeting that glowing turquoise gaze, Ash was flooded with emotions he couldn’t hope to label. But overriding it all was euphoria.
He’d flown. As a Dragon. And landed. Sort of.
Tyrez took them back to human. Filled with joy, Ash hardly felt the pain this time. Especially when strong arms reached for him and pulled him close. And then the big Dragon bent and touched his lips to Ash’s.
So gentle, as though he was afraid Ash might break. The arms, too, fingers spread, ready to release at the slightest sign of retreat.
The past surged, and Ash shivered as it threatened to destroy the moment. Bolstered by the exultation of wind against his wings, Ash refused to let it. Instead of pulling away, he pushed into the kiss. Reached up to tangle his fingers in the silky black strands of Tyrez’s hair—he’d longed to do that, to touch it, to see if it was as soft as it looked—and he opened his mouth beneath the big Dragon’s. Teased his tongue against Tyrez’s.
The surge through the link took his breath away, and Tyrez uttered a low moan before he broke loose. His eyes gleamed down at Ash, and when the smaller man spread his fingers over the rock-hard chest. He felt the deep thrum of the heart hammering through the scales.
Tyrez trailed his fingers along Ash’s jaw. Demeti had often done that, and Ash couldn’t stop it this time, he flinched from them. The big shifter’s mouth straightened before he pulled back. Then he, ever so slowly, reached to pluck grass from Ash’s golden hair.
“Splatting is messy,” Ash said, swallowing. Dammit, he’d been so close. But he was so damaged . . .
“You did taste a bit like grass,” Tyrez admitted. He shook a lock of Ash’s hair, and a tuft of sod dropped out, bouncing off his nose on its way to the ground.
Tyrez laughed, a deep chuckle so freely offered that tore something loose within Ash. He began to laugh, too. It started low, an echo of Tyrez’s, but built when he couldn’t stop. He was aware it had a slightly hysterical edge, and Tyrez looked a little concerned as he gasped for breath.
“You okay?” the big Dragon asked.
“Yeah. Good. Very good.” When had he ever laughed like that? Clutching his stomach, Ash straightened and gazed out over the grasslands. Without his Dragon sight, the details seemed almost blurred. But he thought he saw something moving out there.
Then suddenly, his perspective shifted. He was looking down from above, and it was no longer night, but midmorning. Below him, as far as his eyes could see, were plunging, bounding forms. Dires. Hundreds of them, jaws open and tongues hanging from between razor-sharp teeth. Behind them lumbered creatures he’d never seen before. On their backs were riders. Some held dart guns in their hands. Others were unencumbered—women, their expressions set and determined.
