Page 72 of Feathers and Scales

“Do you partake?” he asked.

“Not really. I don’t like the taste. I’ve only really had wine from this century, when Simon made me drink last New Year’s.”

He smiled, picturing Simon harassing her into trying it. “Dragons only drink at social events. Being under the influence makes it difficult to control our other side.”

“What is it like being in your dragon form?”

“Our dragons are our weapon, so when we shift, we give in to our instincts. Everything is muscle memory. When you’re facing an enemy, hesitation means death.”

He pulled out a towel-wrapped wineglass and raised it toward her. “Will you join me?” He swept his arm over the boulder.

She sat on the rock, and he joined her. He poured the liquor into two glasses and passed one to Izzy. She sniffed and sipped at the drink, face brightening.

“This is sweeter than I expected.” She took a longer drink. “The one Simon gave me was dry.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He took a sip. A mixture of cherries and spices burst over his taste buds and left a sweet aftertaste. He memorized the name for later.

“Is it safe for you to be drinking…if it makes your dragon hard to control?”

“A little indulgence won’t hurt.” He released a long breath. “Actually, I’ve never felt more in control than I do now. Being with you. The breathing exercises have been helping me when I’m not around you.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure it’ll get better with practice.” Izzy smiled briefly and fidgeted on the rock. “What did you bring for us to eat?”

He handed her a container. “I’m not sure. It’s all on the chef.”

With excitement gleaming in her gaze, she released the sealed lid.

She’s never been this interested in food.It seemed his surprise worked.Delicious aromas floated toward Daxton, making his stomach growl. A venison roast sat in the container, with steamed broccoli, parmesan-baked asparagus, and a baked potato.

They ate together in companionable silence. He took pleasure in watching her reactions. From the upward pitch of her mouth, she was enjoying every bite.

When his own stomach was satisfied, he leaned forward. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I love seeing you in your element, but you wear it like a protective shield. I want to be more open with each other.”

She put her fork down and grabbed her glass, her face as red as the liquid she swirled around. “You’re pushy, but I’ll do my best. What do you want to know?”

He cleared his throat. “Why do you call yourself Izzy?”

She chewed a bite of asparagus sluggishly as a shadow crossed her features. Her intense gaze lingered on her plate; she seemed lost.

His arm muscles tightened. He wanted to reach out and hold her.

After a few tense seconds, she swallowed. “It’s a nickname from my previous Coheart, Fotios.”

The darkness along the link spoke of the foggy episodes she had. “Is that whose voice you hear?”

She nodded.

“You don’t—”

She held up her hand. “It’s okay. I want to share him with you.” She breathed in deeply. “Back in ancient Greek times, I used to go by Isidora. When I met my Coheart for the first time, he was a philosopher, and I became his pupil. He called me by the short form—Isi. I kept it, wanting to hold on to a part of him. Simon insisted on Izzy—with Z’s and a Y—to modernize me and…I don’t know. I like it.” She gave Daxton a tight grin after her explanation. A sheen glimmered in her eyes—emotion she quickly blinked away.

He placed his hand over hers. “What happened when Fotios learned you were a Fallen?”

A shy smile touched her lips. “Nothing. He didn’t look at me any differently. I was still a daughter to him. He just helped protect me from my demanding family, men who sought ownership over me, and the enemies who threatened to destroy our homes.”

Along the link, impressions of deep sadness and stinging pain filtered in. Memories of swords and fire, but a steady form acting as a shield against it all. He felt a kinship with the man—appreciative of his sacrifice in helping Izzy.

She shifted. “He was my best friend, who I’d want to contact in the middle of the night to share in my day or talk about the latest philosophical discovery. He was the man who helped shape me—raised me.My everything. We could have conversations with just our eyes, as if we had spent millennia together.”