“Fine. If you don’t hear from me by then, it’s because I hope you were,” was the reply as the door slammed shut behind me.

Ember

Lover’s Bluff, as it was called by the locals, was a lonely outcropping of rock that jutted out over the ocean, several miles past the main beach and in the middle of nowhere. In the daylight hours, it was a sightseeing and picture taking spot. At night, it was known as the place where couples would go to prove their love, joining hands and leaping to the foaming waters below. If their love was strong enough, rumors went, they would survive. If not, one or both would drown.

Lexi claimed it was wonderfully romantic. I thought it was pretty stupid, myself.

I rode my bike down the narrow road until I reached the tiny parking lot in the shadow of the bluff. At the end of the pavement, a flight of steps zigzagged their way to the flat outcropping of rock overlooking the waves. A guardrail hemmed in the perimeter, and a large Danger sign warned you back from the edge. Not that it did much good.

I left my bike by the railings and climbed the steps to wait. Overhead, a huge full moon peeked through the clouds, keeping silent company. I wondered if the rogue would show; if he would really risk discovery to go flying with a virtual stranger. Maybe he was testing me, gauging how serious I was about breaking the rules, making certain I wouldn’t expose him to Talon. Or maybe he was just playing the stupid hatchling, having a good laugh at her expense.

As the minutes ticked by, that worry grew. I’d checked my watch a dozen times on the way here; one more glance showed that it was fifteen minutes past midnight, with no rogue dragon in sight.

Well, what did you expect, Ember? He’s a rogue after all. Untrust-worthy, just like Talon said.

Angry now, I walked to the end of the pavement and, in defiance of the ocean, hopped over the rails and stood at the very edge, peering into the roiling water.

Wel , now what? Do I go home? Or do I say “screw it” and go flying by myself? The thought was tempting. After all, I’d snuck out, broken curfew, and had come all this way; it seemed a waste to go back home just because some lying stranger wasn’t here like he’d said he would be…A cry echoed over the distant waves, and my heart stopped.

Backing away from the railing, I stood rigid, counting the seconds, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement. The cry came again, closer this time, and I held my breath.

And then, a massive winged creature exploded through the waves beyond the rail, surging into the sky in an eruption of foam. It rose above me, beating the air with powerful wings, the downbeats whipping violently at my hair, before it dropped to the ground with a crash and another bellowing cry.

I staggered back, even as my dragon surged up with a joyful shriek, nearly bursting out of my skin. I barely kept myself from Shifting right then and pouncing on the stranger just ten feet away.

He was older than me, probably by a couple decades, given his size.

Dragons aged slower than humans and remained hatchlings until our fiftieth year, when we became young adults. In my true form, I topped out at maybe five hundred pounds, about the size of a large tiger. This dragon had a few hundred pounds on me, all sleek muscle and sinew, and though he wasn’t nearly as huge as a full-grown, bus-sized adult, he was still impressive. His scales were a deep navy blue, the color of the ocean depths, and his eyes gleamed a brilliant gold in the darkness. A sail-like fin ran from between sweeping ebony horns, all the way to the tip of his slinky tail. Which he wrapped around his clawed feet as he sat down, cat-like, and watched me.

I gazed up into the narrow, scaly face, and realized he was smirking at me. Looking very Riley-like, even in dragon form. Annoyance quickly replaced excitement, and I crossed my arms. Here I was, gaping like a stunned human at my own kind. If Dante knew, he’d never let me live it down.

“That was quite the entrance,” I said, only now realizing that I was completely soaked from the explosion of seawater caused by beating dragon wings. Which were now folded neatly over his back now, dripping puddles onto the rock. “Would you like me to applaud?”

The dragon—Riley—grinned, showing a set of sharp white fangs.

“Did you like that, Firebrand?” he rumbled, his voice low and mocking, and if I’d had any doubts that this was the same rogue, they would be gone now. “Frankly, I wasn’t expecting you to show.”

“You don’t know me very well.”

“I guess not. Though it’s nice to hear you haven’t forgotten everything about being a dragon.”

He’d been speaking in Draconic, I realized, the native language of all our kind. I’d grown up speaking Draconic, only learning English when our human education had begun, years later. I hadn’t been answering in Draconic, because not only did the language consist of verbal communication, but many words and phrases required complex and subtle nuances to get the point across. It was physically impossible for the human body to mimic important things like tail position and pupil width, so speaking flawless Draconic in human form wasn’t possible. But I understood it perfectly.

“You’re one to talk,” I challenged. “You’re the rogue, the one who abandoned everything Talon stands for. Are you even going to tell me your real name? Or was that just a lie to get me out here?”

“It wasn’t,” the rogue said mildly. “My real name is Cobalt, or it is when I’m in this form. And don’t spout Talon’s garbage at me. I’ve forgotten more about Talon then you’ll ever know, hatchling.”