Chapter Eleven
Just when Cricket thought her and Radley were getting along, things went south again. He’d climbed on the private jet easily enough, his eyes darting around the lush interior while also attempting not to look amazed at all he saw. Everything went smoothly for takeoff, but the longer they were in the air, the sourer Radley seemed to get. His face was pinched in annoyance though she hadn’t said a word to him. She’d spent her time flipping through a magazine, sipping at the small glass of fairy wine the attendant had given her. Radley had denied any drinks, even the water that was offered very clearly as not having been tampered with. As if he didn’t trust anything she could give him.
Finally, after an hour of his clear annoyance, Cricket closed the business magazine she’d been perusing and turned toward him. He was sprawled out in the plush chair, his legs open in a way only those with such masculine energy sat. His hair was out of place from where he’d been tugging on it, hanging around his face in waves.
“Is there something the matter?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
Radley glanced at her as if he hadn’t even remembered she was there. Confusion passed his face before he blinked it away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Cricket studied him. “As a matter of face, you look pale.” The closer she looked at him, the more she realized how pale he actually was. Sweat coated his brow even. “Are you ill?”
“I said, I’m fine,” Radley growled, but his voice lacked the usual animosity it held, as if even that was too much to bear.
Staring at him closely until he shifted in his seat under her scrutiny, Cricket blinked in surprise at the realization. “You’re not. . . afraid, are you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” was the too quick reply.
Her eyes widened. “You’re afraid of flying. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I never said that,” he growled. On cue, the plane dipped a little and the big bad alpha gripped the arms of his seat as if they were about to plummet to the earth.
Cricket pursed her lips to keep from laughing. “I see.”
Radley glared at her, which threatened to make her laugh more. “This stays between us.”
Cricket mimed that she was zipping her lips. “Your secret is safe with me, wolf.”
He grimaced, clenching tightly to the arm rests. “I’ve never flown before. I didn’t expect it to be so. . . rough.”
The small tidbit of information made something twist in Cricket’s chest. He’d given that fact without any threats, without anger, so she replied similarly. “The smaller planes tend to feel more turbulence. I suppose I’ve never thought about it before on account of the wings.” She pointed to her back where her wings sat out spread around the special chair she sat in. The back was narrow in order to fit between her wings without issue.
His eyes followed her gesture and took in the large pink wings at her back. “You don’t hide them much. Not like other fae.”
She shrugged. “I prefer not to. Glamouring them makes me itch. It’s much easier to keep them out.” It was a source of discontentment with her father. He typically preferred her to protect the wings when out, but despite that, she never did. Most other fae took it as a symbol of her power, not realizing she was just being stubborn. It was a mighty inconvenient itch though.
The attendant stepped from behind the wall and inclined her head just slightly. “We’ll be arriving in a few minutes, Lady Snapdragon. Would you prefer us to land or follow the usual protocol?”
Cricket glanced at Radley and the cold sweat on his brow. “It’s probably best to land.”
The attendant nodded. “As you wish.”
“What’s the usual protocol?” Radley asked once she disappeared to strap herself in. “What other option is there than to land?”
Wincing, Cricket shifted in her seat. “Usually, they just open the door and I leap out.”
“You what?”
“Would you like to try? I’ll hold you,” she offered, but he was already shaking his head before she could finish.
“Fuck no! Wolves aren’t meant to fly. We’re meant to run.”
Smiling gently, Cricket shrugged. “We’re only held back by the limitations we give ourselves.”
Radley met her eyes and something passed between them. Call it understanding or something else, but Cricket felt a little bit better. Still, he scowled and shook his head. “You fae are all crazy.”
There was a little less animosity in those words, as if the wolf might be warming up to her. She couldn’t be sure, but out of the corner of her eyes when she looked forward again, she would have sworn Radley looked at her wings again, and again, and again.
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