Water was streaming down his chest and bare legs. Scales delineated the muscles of his chest and belly, but he seemed to have grown a lot of black hair as well. It was shocking to see him this way, but worse was that her memories of coupling with him shot suddenly through her, filling her body with a different sort of warmth. No. Not him, she reminded herself sternly. I didn’t couple with him. I’ve never mated with anyone! Yet the thought could not negate her knowledge of it, nor cool the lust in her belly. She backed away from him, only a step, but he halted where he stood and his grin grew wider.

“I won’t touch you,” he promised. “I just want to see your wings.”

She turned, her face burning.

“Open them up, then,” he commanded, and she did. Water droplets had been trapped in their folds and slid down when she opened them. They tickled and she shivered. Rapskal laughed. “That’s amazing. The colors flickered. Oh, Thymara. So beautiful. I wish you could see them for yourself. You would never feel shy of them again, never cover them again. Move them, just a little, would you?”

She was tantalizingly aware of him standing behind her. She distracted herself by fanning her wings slightly and was startled at what she felt. Strength. And increased size, as if they had only been waiting to unfold. She fanned them again. Flight. Was it possible now? She stifled the thought. Sintara had told her she would never fly. Why did she torment herself?

Rapskal had come closer. She felt his breath on her back, sensed his closeness. “Please,” he said quietly. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch, but can I please just touch your wings?”

Her wings. What was the harm? “Very well,” she said quietly.

“Open them wide, please.”

She spread them and felt him take hold of the ribbed end of one. It was oddly like holding his hand; the sensation was rather like her fingers. He spoke softly. “I wish you could see this. This line here is all gold.” He traced a line with his finger, and she shivered at the touch. “And behind it is a blue like the sky right before it gives way to night. Here, there is white that gleams almost silver.” He stretched her wing wider and very lightly drew his finger from her shoulder to the very tip. She shivered again, but with heat, not chill.

An odd thought intruded. He was using both hands.

She snapped her wings shut and spun around. His shirt was on the floor. “Oops.” He grinned.

“Not funny!” she objected.

His grin grew wider, and as she turned away, she could not keep an answering smile from her face. It was funny. Rude, but funny. So very Rapskal. But it also made her uncomfortable. She walked away from him.

“Where are you going?”