Page 11 of Flight of the Omega

VI

JP stared deep intoJack’s eyes, waiting for that awestruck look to fade. When it didn’t, he released the ranch hand’s shirt and stepped away. It was impossible to deny that he was one and the same as “Cerulean,” especially when he’d purposefully done a half-shift, leaving his tail feathers trailing on the floor, as though to drive the idea home.

Still, Jack just stared at him. JP did a half-turn, twisting back to stare at the ranch hand.

Finally, Jack paused, then looked around the room. “So,” he drawled, “this is where you go? Like, at night?”

“Yes,” JP huffed. “Why would I want to stay in a dirty old barn?” He crinkled his nose.

“It’s just fine for the rest of the flock,” Jack protested.

“But I’m not the rest of the flock,” JP mocked, folding his arms. “I’m an angelic. I’m used to a soft bed and baths and whatever you humans deem fit for consumption.”

Jack frowned. “You’re just as dirty as the other birds,” he said, his gaze roving the room.

JP felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Well, Iguess.” He tried to be clean, but it was hard to tidy up when one lacked thumbs. It was even easier to knock things over when one was an eight-foot-tall bird.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything? All this time …”

JP flushed and looked away, folding his arms. “I wanted to see if you’d figure it out.”

The ranch hand frowned at him for a long moment. Then he said, “Why’d you bring me up here to tell me this? You could’ve told me just as well in the stable.” He paused, before adding, “And what was with how you were acting? You sick or something?”

“Or something,” JP muttered. He hadn’t really thought about Jack asking so many questions of him; his plan had been half-formed, scattered at best.

He’d known he was going to into heat for a couple of days now. He’d been nesting—the sheets and the dried flowers of all the previous arrangements he’d had Teal the gardener bring him attested to that.

He’d thought Jack might accept him. And he needed that now, after the disastrous matings he’d been forced through on his father’s instructions.

He’d never picked his own mate before. And he thought that … maybe … Jack would be gentle with him.

Of course, it was also difficult to find a human who was interested in shapeshifters. The shapelocked birds were less picky, although they still preferred their mates to look like them most of the time.

JP was an odd case, because he’d been raised by humans; he preferred them to avian faces, to feathers and claws. He supposed he’d imprinted on humans, and so he preferred his mate to wear a humanoid face. Shifters were few and far between, and most of the humans he’d met figured JP was just a bird, even in humanoid form. They were all right with sleeping with him for the novelty, but not for the long term. They wanted to brag. They wanted to see how weird it was. That was all.

Jack seemed … different, at least, so when JP had realized he was going into heat, he’d pinned his hopes on Jack.

He realized it was silly, considering how … rude he’d been, but in the week and a bit since griffin attack, JP had seen more and more of Jack’s gentleness. He’d watched how the ranch hand interacted with the injured Blue; he’d heard about how much he cared for the flock. His refusal to give any of them up, even if they weren’t useful anymore. The concern in his touch, the softness of his voice when he spoke to JP and touched his injured wing.

JP wanted that, maybe all to himself. He wanted a mate who would be gentle with him, kind and caring.

Of course, there was still a good chance Jack would reject him, like most of the other humans he’d encountered. Even if Jack had said Rocket the bird was his first boyfriend, that could have been a one-off thing, not an indication of Jack’s usual inclinations.

And there was always the chance that, even if he did like birdsthat way, he didn’t like JP. Even JP could admit he hadn’t exactly made a good impression.

He wrung his hands. Why was it so difficult to say? He’d been hoping Jack would put two and two together, figure it out, but the look on the ranch hand’s face suggested he was still just as baffled.

JP felt his cheeks heating up. “I, um.” If he were in bird form, this would have been easier. Instinct would have taken over; he would have flapped his wings and fanned his tail. He would have run in circles around the nest, then sat on it and his mate would intuit what he wanted.

He didn’t think Jack would pick up on those cues. Jack, talented and kind as he was, didn’t speak bird. He got what the flock said a lot of the time—like when Saffron cooed that she loved him—but that was different than mating dances.

He gestured vaguely at the nest, the heap of blankets strewn with plant detritus. JP flushed harder. Did humans find that attractive? Or would Jack think it was part of the mess?

“You wanna sit on your nest instead of in the stable?”

JP closed his eyes, exasperated. Jack really was going to make him spell it out, wasn’t he?

Ah, hell, he should have known better by now. Of course he was. Jack just wasn’t that bright. Not that JP thought he himself was much smarter, but …