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When she left the bedroom she shared with Marcus, he was standing at the end of the hall, near the rectangular table, as though he’d been waiting for her. He opened his mouth to speak but Parisa exited her room at the same time and called out, “Yes, it’s tight, but I think I can manage.”
Havily’s gaze fell to the beautiful long line of cle**age that overflowed the haltered top then dropped to examine the waist, which was loose. “I can adjust this for you,” she said. “The clasp is in the back.”
Parisa put her hands on her hips and turned around. Havily adjusted the waistband, making it snug. “There’s an entire industry geared to women’s flight apparel.”
“I can just imagine.”
“There. I think we’re both ready. Let’s fly.”
As Havily turned toward Marcus, she saw that his gaze was settled on Parisa’s cle**age—and why wouldn’t it be, since the snug fit pushed her br**sts up and out? Still, she rolled her eyes.
Directing Parisa toward the front door, she let her get in front of them a few paces. When there was sufficient distance, she elbowed Marcus. “Do you have to be such a guy?”
He looked at her, startled, then glanced up at the ceiling. “Sorry, sweetheart. Old habit.”
“Yeah, well, get some new ones. And what’s with the sweetheart?”
“Darling?” he suggested.
“Aack,” she cried, and walked faster, moving ahead of him.
“You know,” he called after her, “for a second there you looked just like Endelle.”
She ignored him and focused instead on teaching Parisa the basics of flight.
Havily wore an emerald-green flying halter, boned to support her br**sts and tight around the waist to keep the whole thing from sliding around while she maneuvered through the air. The black pants, snug at the ankle, were a stretch knit that gave ease of movement.
Her back itched and tingled, the wings ready to come.
She stood opposite Parisa, whose breaths were high in her chest in anticipation, her amethyst eyes glittering. The un-ascended non-ascendiate hopped from one foot to the next. Her flight suit included the same black pants, but the halter was a sexy boned creation made of super-soft black leather. She really couldn’t blame Marcus for staring. The woman’s cle**age was spectacular.
Both sets of feet were bare since they’d be practicing on the front lawn beneath the shelter and protection of the enormous dome of mist.
Havily smiled then closed her eyes. She hadn’t mounted her wings in over a week and she tried to fly often. Her preferred place to take to the air was off the Mogollon Rim, near Thorne’s house in Sedona. Though it had taken a good decade to gain real confidence, she loved launching from the two-thousand-foot cliff and flying through the canyons, catching the currents, floating, feeling the eddies tease her wings as unexpected drifts of air appeared from hidden canyons.
Yeah, she loved it.
Parisa, already filled with the longing for flight, would be crazy about the Rim. Maybe one day they could fly it together.
Havily took a deep breath and spread her arms wide. This was the moment she treasured, in her opinion the most important gift of ascended life, the blessing of flight.
Her wing-locks hummed, vibrated, and wept with fluids to ease the emergence of the feathers and attendant mesh superstructure from the locks. As the wings began to glide in a swiftly flowing sweep out of her back, she arched slightly then gasped. The sensation, so much like ecstasy, caught her behind her knees. She honestly would have fallen but the wings themselves kept her aloft. Once extended, she opened her eyes to find herself staring at Parisa, who had pressed her hands to her cheeks, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Your wings are so beautiful,” Parisa cried.
Havily preened. “I know.” Her wings were light brown and speckled with dark brown spots in increasing numbers toward her back. A light green about two inches in diameter formed a band a few inches from the tips of the outermost feathers. She turned this way and that. The movement of course sent her rising off the ground a few feet as the curve of hundreds of feathers caught air. She gave a flip of both wings and twirled in a spiral. She drew her wings in and landed on her feet.
Parisa clapped her hands. “Oh,” she cried. She closed her eyes, and a moment later she mounted her wings.
Havily sucked in her breath. “Whatever mine are, yours are majestic.”
Parisa threw her arms wide. “I need to fly,” rushed from her lips. She lifted her wings then flapped.
“Wait!” Havily cried. She had made the same rookie mistake, flying straight up into the air without either instruction or practice.
Havily launched after her and, as the resulting forward spin threw Parisa in what could be a deadly maneuver for the mortal, Havily caught her bare feet and gave a downward tug. The movement forced Parisa to lift her arms, which brought the wings up and out. The resulting parachute effect permitted the untried ascendiate to drop gently back to earth.
As soon as Parisa touched down on the grass, she brought her wings in close and dropped to her knees. “Well, that was foolish,” she cried. She took deep breaths.
Havily floated down beside her and also brought her wings to close-mount, chuckling. “I tried to warn you but you took off so fast. Sorry, I should have said something ahead of time. As much as you think you’ll know what to do, there is still quite a bit of skill involved.”
Parisa looked up at her, a hand pressed to her chest. “I was so sure I could do it.” She blinked several times. Her cheeks were flushed and Havily could almost hear the loud hammering of her heart. “I hate to think what would have happened if I’d fallen to the ground.”
“You have no idea. I spent a week in the hospital in my early days. Broken feathers, or feathers ripped from mesh, hurt like a bitch.”
Parisa started to laugh then covered her face. A few more breaths and she rose to her feet once more. “Okay. Teach me what I need to know.”
* * *
Marcus folded a lawn chair from the pool area to the front patio. The moment of sheer panic he’d experienced when Parisa’s first flight resulted in an out-of-control forward roll had dissipated as he watched how Havily, with a piece of clear thinking and expertise, pulled on Parisa’s feet and brought her safely to ground. Genius.
He locked his hands behind his head and smiled. His woman had chops.
These were two beautiful women, lean and fit, and both pairs of wings were exquisite.
Parisa’s royle pair still stunned him. He wondered what her wings could possibly mean for Second Earth. There were several myths surrounding royle wings, primarily indicating that a vampire who presented royle wings had the capacity to bring peace to a land, a quality that the first ascender, Luchianne, had.
