Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“It’s impossible to keep Charif down for very long,” Safia admitted, sobering. “Although if Zdan showed disappointment in him, that would curtail his activities. None of the children want Zdan to be disappointed in them.”
“For the moment, he’s safe at your farm.”
Petru gathered her close to him and took to the air without further discussion. When he did that, Safia always lost her ability to breathe, just for a moment. The miracle of soaring across the sky was secondary to the closeness of their bodies. She loved these moments together, with the moon looking down at them and the clouds feeling close. Flying was always going to be one of her most favorite pursuits—other than making love.
I’m certainly glad that is higher on the list. I would have been worried I was doing something very wrong.
I’m certain there’s always room for improvement. The more practice, the better you’ll get at it. She poured comfort into his mind as if he needed it. It was extremely difficult to keep the laughter out of her voice. I do realize that in certain circles, you are referred to as Hän ku oma és gyenge. I know I’m not the best at your language, but I do believe that means “old frail one.”
The smallest of giggles escaped. She clapped a hand over her mouth with one hand while the fingers of her other dug into his shoulder to keep from falling. She didn’t believe he’d let her fall, but she never giggled. That was for schoolgirls.
He didn’t drop her, but he did growl. As growls went, it was a fantastic rumble, much like a clap of thunder but only for her ears. That turned her giggle into a full laugh. The looming war should have ruined their day, but instead, he made the night seem fun and exciting. Just being with him was fun. She snuggled closer to him.
“As old frail ones go, you’re not bad, Petru.” She nuzzled his shoulder with her chin, sharing not only the feeling of fun with him but her growing need and love for him. Sometimes both emotions would suddenly be overwhelming.
He turned his head and focused solely on her, the intensity of his look causing an instant fluttering in her stomach, a clenching in her feminine core, heat rushing through her veins and little sparks of electricity dancing through her nerve endings. She’d never felt more alive.
His answering smile was brief, but it was there just for her, before he turned his attention to settling them down at the furthermost corner of her family farm. This was one of the most remote areas, hilly and covered with more trees than any other section. The forest crept close to the fence, sliding over and under it, occasionally forcing the family to cut down the extending branches of trees and brush reaching to reclaim the land.
“We talk about clearing this section for the sheep, but we never do,” Safia explained. “We like the wildlife close. The predators leave our flock alone for the most part. We’re vigilant, and there’s easier prey.”
She was nervous now that she was going to try shifting into something as small as the little owl but excited as well. To her, this was the ultimate challenge.
“You’re making it far bigger than it really is, sívamet. You’re already adept at your clothing. You’re getting close to being able to move the soil without fear. This is a small thing when you are so good at detail.”
His tone steadied her. He would never allow anything to happen to her, but more, he had such complete faith in her. She had to admit, she could use a little of that herself when she pictured the detailed image of the little owl in her mind. It was so small.
“It is only your spirit entering the owl. The essence of who you are, not your physical body,” Petru pointed out. As always, he kept that same calm tone. No judgment.
Safia knew if she said she wanted to wait, he would do so, and he would never judge her. Where had she gotten it into her head that he and his brethren looked down on everyone else?
She threaded her fingers through his. “I’m ready.”
The pad of his thumb slid over the back of her hand. “This is for fun. I call you Pelkgapâd és Meke Pirämet for a reason. You are my fearless defender. This is nothing in comparison to what you do every day. This is simple and fun. Once you do it, you will be able to take any shape you desire. You can run with wolves or cheetahs, soar with hawks or eagles. You will have the ability to utilize whatever you wish just for fun or to aid you in combat.”
While he spoke, he held the image of the little owl in her mind. The patterns in the feathers were imprinted on her now. She knew the tiny bird, the way it looked and moved. Its mannerisms, the notes of its call.