“Oh, he will find us.” Alexei slips his hands into his pockets, a smug tone lacing his words.

Is there anybody who can’t read my blasted mind?

“It will take him a while. Running a straight line is a challenge in the Faelands, but he will find us.”

“How?”

His only answer is a mischievous wink, long black lashes brushing ivory skin. My groin tightens. Everything Alexei does seems to affect me that way. The fact that he’s male doesn’t seem to register. He looks so young he could be mistaken for an eighteen-year-old, yet those dark, unfathomable eyes look back at me across centuries. I force myself to turn away and take in my surroundings.

The rock shelf we’ve landed on towers above a dense canopy crowding the base of the cliff and extends wide enough to fit two or three houses. Far beyond the vast blanket of trees, more jagged mountains rise into the clouds. Apart from a distant white dome nestled in the crack of a valley, no buildings mar the rolling beauty. No roads or walls divide the land. Birdsong fills the air in a deafening pitch. The scent of wildflower weaves amid earthy forest lushness. It’s breathtaking.

But at the corner of my eye, everything shimmers and shifts. The canopy undulates in waves until I look at it directly. If I blink, the treeline fluctuates against the hills. Even the mountains seem to alter their shape, one second displaying a sharp edge, the next smoothly dropping into deep valleys.

I’m definitely not in Normalville anymore.

Then again, I haven’t been for some time.

The Flame whirls through my limbs, bursting along veins, flaring in my hands, as if celebrating its own presence in the land. A heady elation expands my chest, even as a new sense of being grounded fastens my legs to the earth. I feel strong. Electrified. Vibrant with life. I feel amazing.

Alexei stands beside me, his shoulder pressed to mine. His giant wings rustle behind us. He rests his hand on my lower back, sending a surprise bloom of warmth and safety through my abdomen. Without thought, I tuck my arm beneath the leathery skin of his wings to do the same. I’m still angry, but there is also that desire to be closer. To touch him. To smell his nearness.

Am I Hazing? I don’t feel drunk.