Page 6 of Flight of the Omega

IV

JP had been at midlothianfor three weeks, and he’d been successfully evading Jack for about that long too. The jerk had almost touched him when he’d tricked JP with a sugared plum—a delicacy JP could hardly resist in humanoid form, let alone when his bird instincts were in play—but JP had prevailed, stealing the plum and taking off with it before Jack could pet him or worse.

The other birds cooed and fawned over Jack, letting him stroke their necks and smooth their feathers. Jack had them eating out of the palm of his hand. JP would never allow himself to be tamed like that. Never.

Although, the scritches did look inviting sometimes, particularly when he had an itch he couldn’t reach. Blossom made it look nice, the way her eyes rolled back, then closed. Like it was bliss or something.

JP couldn’t imagine welcoming anyone’s touch, let alone the callused hands of a lout like Jack. The one time Jack had touched him, he’d ended up with bruises. Burr had told him he was just delicate (well, actually, he’d called JP a pussy, but JP didn’t see how that was an insult), said he needed to get over it.

“Your father’s going to be disappointed,” Burr said, and JP failed to see why he should care. The old man had stopped caring about his happiness a long time ago; why the hell should JP worry about his pop’s?

At any rate, his whole plan was to avoid being bridled and saddled, and so far, it was working like a charm.

It threatened to come down around his ears the morning that Jack was nice to him at breakfast. Until that morning, Jack had been standoffish and cold. His disdain for JP wasn’t much of a secret; he wore it openly in his eyes, his stance. Even his tone said, “I wish you’d pack up and go back to where you belong.”

Thing was, JP didn’tbelonganywhere. He wasn’t useful to his father anymore, so he’d been sent down here. There was no leaving, no going back. He was stuck down here until he died or his old man decided that he was good for something after all.

So Jack was just going to have to get used to him. Not that JP intended to make that easy. After all, he found it amusing—and maybe a little frustrating—that Jack hadn’t put two and two together and realized JPwasthe bird he called “Cerulean.” JP could have told him, sure, but it was much more fun watching the fool be rude to him and then wonder why “Cerulean” was so standoffish.

Served him right, in JP’s opinion. Jack was frustrated with “Cerulean” because he was so used to just instantly befriending the birds. Saffron, Blue Sapphire, and Orange Blossom fawned over him; they adored him. They’d told JP as much—“Jack’s a good fellow, you should be friends with him.”

But he wasn’t a good fellow, not in JP’s opinion—he’d formed an opinion of JP before he’d even arrived, and he was frustrated because JP didn’t just trip all over himself in avian form. It would be well worth the look on his face when he finally realized “Cerulean” couldn’t be tamed because he was JP. Jack would realize that he’d been rude to JP, almost cruel, so of course he wasn’t going to be friends with Jack just because he’d shifted into feathers.

That morning, though, JP’s resolve faltered. He was just heading down to breakfast—late, as per usual, because he liked to sleep in and because he was trying to avoid Jack—when he almost bumped into the ranch hand in the hallway.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured, tipping his hat. He seemed like he was in a dream.

“You should be,” JP snarked, because he wasn’t about to acceptsorryso easily.

Jack glanced up, then looked away. He seemed shockingly tired, and JP let his gaze rake over the ranch hand, taking in his rumpled clothes, stuck with mud and hay. JP quirked a brow. “What are you doing in here anyway?” he sniped, folding his arms, almost wincing as he jarred his arm. He’d hurt his wrist the day before.

Jack opened the door to the mess, holding it wide and gesturing for JP to go ahead. “Long night,” he said.

JP eyed him warily, then stalked by him into the hall. The sound of Duckie, the cook, stacking plates echoed through the cavernous room; everyone else had eaten breakfast before the sun rose.

“What happened?” JP asked, finally letting his curiosity get the better of him. He cursed Jack for being the strong and silent type.

Jack moved to the coffee maker and picked up the carafe, pouring out a mug. JP sniffed. “Blue got out and went lame.”

“Oh,” JP said, his heart stopping. He suddenly felt sick. Going lame was no small thing for a race bird, JP knew. “What happened?”

Jack shook his head, and JP’s heart settled into his stomach, dissolving in churning acid. Jack glanced at him. “How d’ya take your coffee?” he asked.

“Cream and sugar,” JP said, then clamped his mouth shut because his voice was shaking.

Jack said nothing, just added creamer and tore open a few packets of sugar, dumping them into the mug. He poured himself a second mug, left it black. “We got her back, but it took all night. We chased her all over. We figure a griffin got in and chased the flock everywhere.”

“No,” JP almost gasped, stirring his coffee with the spoon in his good hand. Griffins—big, lion-type things—weren’t uncommon here. They’d been imported—of course—to control the deer population after the native wolves had been hunted to extinction. Humanity never learned, it seemed. The griffins escaped and reproduced. Bears were endangered now, because the griffins were taking over. Still, JP had only ever seen one in a textbook, and he hoped he never had to outrun one.

Jack nodded. “We got ’em all rounded up, except Blue.” He frowned. “Well, except Cerulean, but that bird seems to come and go as he pleases. Anyway, took us forever to find Blue. She’d wrenched her leg.”

“What did you do?” JP asked, then screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to know the dreadful answer. His wrist seemed to ache more.

A broad, warm hand landed over his. He opened his eyes. Jack peered up at him with that soulful brown gaze. “You care about the birds, huh?”

“Well,” JP said, glancing away. How did he explain without telling Jack he was a shifter? He supposed he could just say that.

Jack continued before he could say anything. “We brought Blue back to the barn and got her leg splinted. Took almost all night, and she’s in a lotta pain. I stayed with her until she woke up from surgery.”