Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (12 page)

W
hat the hell just happened
?

With Gresham’s help I FINALLY discovered how to manipulate my chakra and access my animal form. His methods were…unconventional, to say the least, but they were effective. I felt my form within me. It wanted O.U.T. And I wanted to let it fly. But suddenly I sensed that something held it back. I don’t know what.

I do know that it hurt like hell, and I suspect that’s not a typical occurrence. Gresham’s reaction frightened me. Though he wouldn’t say it, I think something went wrong. Bad wrong.

Gah! This is all so frustrating. I feel that if I could just picture what it is that I am trying to release, then I would be exponentially more successful.

My next plan of attack is…more practicing. More studying. More research. Though, if I am honest I’ll admit that at this moment I am not looking forward to trying to reach my form again. Pain is a very powerful deterrent.

“
B
ut
, Stella, I
can’t
date him, don’t you see?”

In fact I did not see. Over the course of several weeks, I had deduced that big, playful, powerful Boone Adder had it bad for my suitemate, and I knew she was into him, too. My efforts to facilitate the match had been rebuffed at every turn, and I was getting sick of seeing them moon longingly at each other when they thought no one was looking. I thought they should just make out like teenagers and get it over with.

Timbra then explained to me that dating and, relatedly, procreating in Thayer was different than in the world I knew.

In Thayer, genetics weren’t just histories, they were legacies. As human species had descended from so many sources, not just apes, evolution was taken very seriously. Proud forbearers had demanded from the dawn of time that sons and daughters find mates only within their species, and for good reason. Viable offspring couldn’t be produced between two people so genetically disparate as, say, those of cervid and canine descent.

I had learned in a biology course that mules, the offspring of male donkeys and female horses, were born sterile because of the two species’ differing number and structure of chromosomes. This sounded a little like that.

“Wait a minute,” I said, throwing my hands up in distressed disbelief. I sat cross-legged on Timbra’s vintage braided rug. “Are you telling me that you and…well, everybody here, are limited to relationships only within your species? You can only have sex with guys who are deer?”

“Ohhhh, no, no, no,” she assured me.

“Whew.”

“Yeah, people hook up interspecies all the time. I mean, this is college, and some people have never spent any time with someone outside their species. We’re all adults here. You combine curiosity with booze and private rooms, and the result is some strange bed partners. Bex, for example, has raised her tail for the entire soccer team. That wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t insist on scent marking every one of her conquests. They finally caught on when no other girls would come near them. After that, a lot of guys avoid her like the clap, but Bex is Bex and will never be alone for long.”

I definitely agreed with her there. Bex was one of those girls that exuded sexy/trashy, which some…no,
a lot
of men found irresistible.

“Okay then. If hooking up is accepted, why can’t you and Boone get together? It’s not like anyone is looking for a mate. Are you? And if, as you say, you can’t make a baby, then what’s the harm?”

“Well, I just don’t believe that I should date anyone with whom there’s no future,” she said. “What’s the point, ya know? Besides, I tend to fall pretty hard, and I like Boone so much that I know I would eventually get hurt.”

Yes, I could see the same quality that made Timbra such a good friend could also put her at risk of heartache. She was kind and gentle and generous; her heart was open and her demeanor unassuming. I hoped she did find someone wonderful as a mate, but she also deserved happiness right now. I knew she pined for Boone, but I’d said my piece. It was her business, and I respected her opinion.

“All right, I get it,” I said and blew out a breath. “But at least tell me who else is hooking up; I haven’t been around much to see it. Somebody besides Bex should be getting laid around here, and it sure isn’t you or I.”

Timbra’s eyes lit at that. Like me she delighted in juicy news.

“Well, Layla is getting biz-zee on the regular with that busty waitress from Sabre Bar. The blonde? And, I can’t prove anything, but I suspect Raynor is getting more ass than a coffee house toilet seat. According to Boone, women practically throw their va-jay-jays at him. But you know what they say abou…”

“Stop.” I said. “Did you just say ‘va-jay-jay?’”

“Um. Yeah.” Her long black eyelashes blinked in confusion.

“No. Just. No.” My eyes squinted in disgust.

“Well, what do you call it? I can hardly say vagina; I’d sound like my grandmother.”

“Well I don’t know. Lady bits? The grandest canyon? Notorious V.A.G.?”

I cracked myself up on that one and rolled onto my side laughing at the scandalized look on Timbra’s face. I was on a roll, though, and continued to spout ridiculous names as they came to me until it was obvious by Timbra’s huffed breaths that I had passed funny and gone right on to obnoxious. Something I’m working on.

“All right, I’m sorry,” I said. “I call it ‘my girl,’ but have been known to even refer to it as ‘pussy’ in the heat of the moment.” ‘Pussy’ was used sparingly and always whispered, as befitting its naughty station.

“What about Ewan?” I asked to change the subject. God knew I wanted him. Surely he was getting some action.

Timbra’s head snapped up at that, her slender ears twitching. I should have known she’d be uber perceptive. “Why do you care who Ewan’s doing?”

“I don’t,” I shrugged. “We’ve just covered everyone else, and I’m curious.”

She didn’t buy that for a second. She eyed me with doubt and said. “I’ve seen him spending time with Pippa Sterling.”

“Pippa? The spin instructor?”

“That’s the one,” she agreed, eyes wide in mock outrage.

“Good for them,” I said, though the last thing I felt was generous upon contemplation of her high, tight bottom and steely abs.

Timbra shrugged in apology, but perked up. “It’s sangria and soul food night downstairs.”

God, I loved her.

S
abre Bar was hoppin
’. It was Friday, so the music was loud and so were the patrons, who were letting off steam after a tough week of classes. Timbra and I joined right in, ordering a round of shots for ourselves and our little group, which we spotted in a corner. After a quick toast ‘to our metamorphoses,’ we settled in to comfortable conversation and frequent bursts of laughter. Since the topic was broached, I took the opportunity to quiz Layla, Boone, Ewan, and Bex about their progress with their animal forms.

I already knew Timbra was well on her way to mastering hers, which was—no surprise—a large deer species. As a doe, her form had not given much fight. Once she learned to release it, it simply leapt from within her. She described the experience in terms of rebirth—that she was new and whole for the first time, as if she had been searching for something her entire life, and when she finally found it, she pulled it around herself like a favorite sweater.

To say I was envious was a serious understatement. Not only did I not know my genetic background or my father, I had no idea what my form would be. And that last exercise with Gresham had only served to scare the hell out of me. I had since been unable to achieve the same level of connection, fear overriding my desire to face my metamorphosis. Gresham had been patient, but I could tell was again nearing frustration with me.

“Layla, how goes your search for your form?” I asked.

Layla handled everything with an air of confidence and indifference. “Well, when your form is a crow, it’s not that hard to handle, Stonewall.”

I hadn’t known her form was a crow. That certainly explained the tattoo.

“And you, Boone?” I knew he was descended of massive ancient hunting dogs, but I hadn’t heard if he had learned to manipulate it.

“I succeeded just today. That’s part of what we’re celebrating tonight.”

“Oh, congratulations!” I said at the same time Layla piped in with a smirk.

“Took you long enough, dog.”

“Listen,” Boone said. “When you’re as big as me, you have to take your time. You can’t just ram roughshod. No, a big man like me has to take things nice and slow. The result, though, is always worth the wait.”

We all knew it was innuendo, and he delivered it so well that when he finished, we just smiled and shook our heads. I sneaked a look at Timbra, curious if she thought him as cheeky as the rest of us.

The poor girl was so gone. It was obvious, though probably only to me, that she was thinking hard about being on the receiving end of his largess. I gave her a sharp elbow to the gut and a pointed look. She had the good sense to look abashed, and I could only shake my head, knowing that she refused to act on her interest.

“Bex and Ewan found their forms weeks ago,” Layla relayed, unfazed. “I hear Ewan’s was a sight to behold.” I knew they had; but I hadn’t heard details. Some people found the process deeply personal while others, like Boone and Layla, let it all hang out.

“Oh?” My interest was piqued about Ewan’s form and I turned in my seat to look expectantly in his direction. I knew little about his family…little about him at all, really. He was so reserved that he seemed eternally introspective. And while his whole ‘brooding’ thing was intriguing, I was beginning to suspect that it was a device to keep from revealing much about himself.

Ewan smiled shyly at me, his dark gaze meeting mine before turning down. I reached to smooth along his jaw, his perpetual five-o-clock shadow rasping beneath my fingers. With my thumb just at the edge of his mouth, I drew his face up to meet my gaze again. His eyes were wide, shocked at the intimacy of my touch. I was also shocked and looked, stunned, at my hand, wondering how it had arrived there.
Damned sangria.
“Ah. I’m sorry… I don’t know what…” I sputtered and jerked my hand back to my lap just as Bex cut in.

“My lioness was powerful and glorious,” she announced, throwing her long caramel hair behind a shoulder. “The Corleones are notoriously kindred with our forms. Once I opened myself up to her, she leapt out with ferocity.”

I gave a weak, “That’s great,” as some of the others ‘mmm’ed’ noncommittally.

“Still no progress, Stella?” Boone asked. I had not discussed my difficulty with anyone, and was a little embarrassed to learn that they all knew anyway.

“I’ve had progress,” I protested. “I came very close recently, but had some…problems and had to stop before my form was released. I haven’t gotten that far again.”

“It helped me to think of my form symbiotically,” Ewan said softly. “Not as a force trying to escape my body, but as a part of me that I willingly released. Sometimes the more you fight it, the more difficult the process is.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m really trying,” I said. “It’s just tough for me. You all know your ancestry and have at least a general idea what form to envision. Not knowing what to concentrate on releasing is…well, it’s scary, as well as difficult.”

“You’ll get there, girl.” This from Layla, who spoke in my direction, but whose gaze followed our waitress as she approached.

“Another round?” Mari, our small but curvy server, encouraged. As she cleared empties she moved around our table, shooting occasional heated glances at Layla. They weren’t revealing their relationship, but were doing little to conceal it, either.

My ears rang and I had a familiar sense of foreboding as images flashed in the periphery of my vision. A scratchy, flickering projection revealed Mari tripping on an upturned rug corner and sending the tray of empty glasses flying across our table. I’d had one or two of these premonitory visions before, and they always happened mere seconds before the event occurred.

Coursework in divining was reserved for sophos or higher, but I’d suspected that the precognitive urges I’d had leading up to my entry to Thayer might have been the beginning manifestations of my innate abilities. I’d studied the topic at length. It wasn’t just theorized, but had been proven in rare instances that, if the vision was received well enough in advance, the outcomes of any given event could be changed.

On a whim, I decided to test the theory. When Mari approached Timbra’s side, I rose from my chair. Just as I neared her, Mari tripped on the rug. I reached out to stabilize her, she gained control of the tray, and then nodded to me in thanks.

“Whew, that was close! Thanks, Stella.”

“No problem. Right place at the right time,” I said numbly as I tried to accept what had just happened.

“You’re all going to Solstice Fest, right?” Mari asked, abandoning her duties to chat for the moment.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Boone said. “I’m going to check out some of the bands, and eat my weight in festival food.”

“When is it?” I tried to rejoin the conversation. I would contemplate my newfound talent later. Much later.

I’d heard some talk of the celebration surrounding the summer solstice, but surely it wasn’t anytime soon. Could it be mid-June already?

“This Saturday,” Timbra chimed in. “You’re going. Layla’s band plays at nine.”

“You’re in a band?” I squeaked. Totally fit, though.

“Mm-hmm,” Layla nodded. “Shiny Things. Me and some people I know from back home.”

“They’re really good,” Mari said. Layla smiled at her sweetly and gave a slow blink in thanks.

“What else goes on besides music and food?” This was all new to me, and very exciting. Getting off campus for a while sounded perfect.