Page 35 of Shifter’s Thunder

“Thank you.” She gripped his lapels and kissed him fully, lingering for a second. “Walk me to Tinsel’s house before you go to the station?”

Tanner pushed aside a trickle of unease. It had been a long, emotional week; she was likely just tired. He offered her a courtly bow, then extended his arm. “I would be honored, your majesty.”

Avelunne laughed as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Oh, majesty, is it?”

“You seem to be the last moonwing standing,” Tanner said, covering her hand with his. “Ergo, you are the successor to the throne and the ruler of your clan. Just showing proper respect.”

She leaned into him as they walked. “Underneath your upright manner and shining armor, you’re a very whimsical being, Tanner Stands in River.” She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. “I love that about you.”

The silence in the station weighed on him more than it should, and not even good coffee helped.

It had been a quiet afternoon, though that would change as soon as the New Year’s Eve champagne started flowing. Tanner sat at his computer, staring at patrol rosters for the coming month, but the words swam before his eyes. The uneasy feeling from the morning hadn’t gone away, and he didn’t know why. He needed to talk to Avelunne. They were too far apart for telepathy, and it wasn’t a conversation to have via text messages. He wanted to ask her how she envisioned her life now that she was a citizen of the Glade, and how he could fit into the shape of her future without crowding her.

Restlessness overtook him. He grabbed his phone. “I need a favor, my friend. I need to go home and get something nicer than my uniform to wear tonight. Can you cover for me for an hour?”

“Be there in ten,” Shiloh replied, his tone light and unconcerned. “Tell Avelunne welcome to the Kotoyeesinay madhouse, by the way.”

“Will do.” Tanner disconnected and grabbed his coat.

Shifting and flying would help clear his mind. He landed on the sturdy front railing of his cabin. A quick shift back to human form and a hop down from the railing took him to his front door.

In the center of the living room stood an easel with a canvas he hadn’t seen before. It was a half-finished portrait of him painted in colorful oils, capturing him laughing. Taped to the corner of the frame was a piece of folded paper. Uneasiness flared as he pulled the note free and unfolded it.

The easy words first: I love you. My body dances for you. My dragon heart sings for you. You are my thunder, my once-in-a-lifetime bolt of lightning.

I accepted the offer of sanctuary because I want the chance to be among people who embrace magic, care for strangers, and rescue captives on the word of a wounded, cursed dragon. The sanctuary is an open invitation to come and go. I must choose to go.

The harder words: I have no place here. I have been given food, clothes, and shelter, but I have nothing to trade, no way to contribute. I need that, or I will never be independent. I’m told there are still wild places where I can fit in and learn how to make my way in the modern world on my own. I need that, too.

The hardest words of all: Even though your thunderbird clan may have come from the age of ice, in your large, generous heart, you are a shifter who needs a true mate. It breaks my heart that I will never be that for you.

It will be well past moonset when you’re reading this, and I will be gone. The painting is not yet finished. If the moon and wind spirits are kind, perhaps we aren’t, either. I will write when I can.

Tanner sank onto the couch and set the note aside. The silence of the cabin mocked him. In his desire to protect her, to wrap her in the safety of his home and his town, he had smothered the very thing that made her Avelunne. She needed the sky. And worse, the damn moonwing curse had convinced her that she was defective, that the profound connection between them was one-sided. He wanted to shift, to find a storm and rumble the world with his pain. She was leaving because she loved him enough to want him to have a “true” mate.

He stood and paced the length of the room, his hands clenching and unclenching. He cursed the moonwing curse and the years she spent as a captive in hell. Anger flayed him for not finding the words to bridge the gap her curse created. Shame sneered at him for failing her.

He stopped at the window, staring out at the snow-covered valley. Slowly, the fires of rage and hurt turned to ash as his discipline reasserted itself. Allowing himself to feel emotions was cleansing. Wallowing in them was pointless. He needed to think. He needed to be the man who saw details others missed. He crossed to the couch and picked up the note to read it again, this time trying to get a sense of the meaning behind what she’d written.

Words he’d blown past before stopped him now. Past moonset. She’d assumed he would work the full shift, like he always did, and wouldn’t find her note until after midnight. She much preferred to fly at night. Leaving while the moon was visible gave her dragon the best advantage. Which meant she hadn’t left yet.

Hope, jagged and desperate, bubbled up, galvanizing him. She might still leave, but he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. Not to control her, but to show her the truth. He pulled out his phone.

The bitter, brittle air made the open field behind the Transition Center seem barren, but Tanner barely noticed. His attention was anchored entirely on the dragon standing in the snow. Her scales shimmered, silhouetting her elegant form against the shadows of the mountains.

A heavy canvas harness crisscrossed her chest, securing the bag of art supplies he’d given her to her back. He’d known she was leaving, but the tangible reality of it hurt.

He spoke quietly, knowing she’d hear it. “I’d like to talk to you before you go,”

“I can’t stay,” her voice whispered in his mind, the telepathic connection sounding clear but distant. “I love you, but I can’t stay.”

“I know. I’m not asking you to,” Tanner replied. With a silent prayer to the wind god, he formed the words. “I would like to go with you. Please talk to me.”

He sensed her astonishment through their connection before she shielded. She remained motionless for a long moment, then sank into a crouch. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was about to launch, but instead, she shifted.

She stepped out of the pile of harness straps and the bag, fully dressed in layers of flannel and denim, and her pink coat. Even from several paces away, he could feel the residual heat of her dragon magic keeping her warm.

She walked closer but stopped well out of arm’s reach. Her hands slide into her pockets. “You don’t want to go where I’m going. This is your home, your nest. Your sanctuary. They need you. You need them.”