Page 137 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Just don’t crush Mrs. Nguyen’s basil pots,” I said.

Rafe’s lips curled into a smile. “I’ll be careful.” He stood in the center of the roof, tall and still against the city, and then the air around him changed.

There was no explosion. No grotesque ripping of bone or flesh. It was more like watching a hidden truth become visible. His human form expanded into shadow and motion, the lines of him lengthening, reshaping, unfolding.

His body rose in one long, sinuous curve, dark against the city. Scales replaced fabric and skin, deep black with a burnished undertone that showed pink when the lights touched him. His neck arched, powerful and elegant. Claws settled against the roof with surprising care. His head lowered, eyes still Rafe’s somehow, gold-dark and aware.

I forgot how to breathe.

He was beautiful. Stunning.

Those were human words for human experiences. This was something older and stranger, immense and impossible. Awe opened in me so quickly it hurt.

“Oh,” I whispered.

He tilted his head slightly.

I pressed both hands to my mouth, because if I didn’t, something embarrassingly emotional might come out. Laughter. Tears. A noise only Max would understand.

“You’re…” I shook my head, uselessly. “Rafe.”

His long body coiled more tightly, careful of the vents and basil pots.

I stepped closer.

He lowered himself to the roof, forelegs folding, shoulder dipping to make a path for me. The gesture was so considerate, so aware of my height and fear and human limitations, that it nearly undid me all over again.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

He huffed softly through his nose.

I chose to interpret that as yes.

Climbing onto a dragon was less graceful than fantasy had advertised.

There were ridges along his neck, natural places for my hands, and he lowered himself more when I struggled to find footing. His scales were cool beneath my palms, smoother than I expected but not slick, textured like polished stone that was alive under my fingers. I settled where his neck met his shoulders, knees tucked securely, fingers gripping the ridge in front of me.

The city looked different from that height. Wider.

“Okay,” I breathed. “Okay. This is fine. This is incredibly fine.”

Rafe turned his head to look at me.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted.

His eyes held mine.

“I still want to go.”

He waited one more second, giving me a final chance to change my mind.

Then he gathered himself. The air tightened around us, stirring grit across the roof in widening circles, and he pushed off. For one terrifying, glorious moment, my stomach forgot what gravity was.

Then we were airborne.

I gasped, and it quickly turned into a laugh.

The roof dropped away beneath us. The streetlights pulled into lines. Windows became constellations. The city opened in every direction, all steel and glass and motion, the rivers gleaming on either side like dark ribbons catching pieces of light. Wind rushed around me, cold and clean, tearing loose strands of hair from my ponytail. I tightened my grip, and Rafe adjusted at once, the long line of his body leveling into a smooth, steady glide until the panic inside me found something solid to trust.