Page 47 of Forged in Fire

She nods once. Her wings spread wide, catching the pre-dawn air. Muscles bunch under my legs as she crouches, preparing for takeoff.

Then we’re airborne.

The ground falls away beneath us like it was never real. Pine trees shrink to matchsticks, then disappear into the canopy below. Wind tears at my hair, my clothes, trying to rip me from her back. But her flight is smooth, powerful, each wingbeat carrying us higher into the slowly lightening sky.

Oh, my fucking God.

I’ve never experienced anything like this. Flight without the mechanical noise of helicopters or planes. Just wind and muscle and the raw power of something born to own the sky.

Below us, the Carpathian Mountains spread out in endless peaks and valleys. Snow-capped summits catch the early light,turning them into crystals scattered across green velvet. It’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.

Beautiful and deadly. Like her.

We climb higher until the air thins and clouds drift around us. Up here, we’re invisible to ground-based surveillance. Just another shadow against the sky, if anyone bothers to look up and squint through the gloom.

I lose track of time. Minutes or hours pass—I can’t tell which. The rhythm of her wingbeats is almost soothing. For the first time in years, maybe decades, I’m not calculating angles or planning escape routes. I’m just… here. Present. Alive.

With her.

I keep an eye on the passing landscape far beneath us, picking up landmarks and guiding her flight path.

The sun climbs higher, burning off the morning mist. Eventually, in the distance, Râ?nov sprawls across the valley like a medieval painting, red roofs and church spires rising from ancient streets in the shadow of a fortress.

“Down,” I say. “Away from the town.”

She begins to descend, and I feel the shift in her flight pattern. More careful now. Controlled. She’s looking for a landing spot away from prying eyes.

We touch down in a grove of oak trees, maybe a mile outside the city limits. Her landing is smooth, barely disturbing the fallen leaves beneath her claws.

The transformation back to human form is slower than the shift to dragon. Like she doesn’t want to give up that power, that freedom. I understand the feeling.

When it’s done, she stands before me in human skin again, but something has changed. She carries herself differently now. More confident. Like she’s finally comfortable in her own power.

“You good?” she asks, and I realize I’m still crouched on the ground where I slid off her back.

“Fine.” I stand, testing my balance. The wounded arm throbs, but it’s manageable. “That was…” I trail off. There aren’t words for what that was. Nothing can capture the sensation of flying with her. Of being trusted with something so precious and dangerous.

Of feeling like I belonged there.

“I’ll be needing those,” she says, glancing down where I’m still clutching the bag with the clothes she shed earlier.

“Oh. Right. I… I… Shit.” I shut up and toss the bundle toward her, then turn away again, which seems ridiculous since she’s standing stark naked in front of me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But I’ll have the image of those pert, pink-tipped breasts seared into my brain until I’m old and gray.

“We need to move,” I say, falling back on practicality while she gets dressed. I glance down at my watch, where an integrated compass is pointing true north. “I have a cache of gear about a half mile north of us.”

“You expected to come here?” She frowns.

“I set things up at several towns in the area, in case I got stuck somewhere. Didn’t you?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Um. No.” She rolls her eyes. “Because who does that?”

“I do,” I say simply.

She nods, falling into step beside me as we make our way through the trees. But I catch her glancing at me sideways, like she’s trying to figure out what’s changed.

Everything,I want to tell her.Everything has changed.