“Just you,” Martin said. “Smoking.”
“Look who’s talking.”
In the dusky purple twilight, he did look especially gorgeous... though who was she kidding? He would probably look gorgeous under florescent lights in the middle of having stomach flu.
“Pony up, cowboy,” Tiffani said.
He laughed. “Your wish is my command.”
This time he transformed with all his clothes still on. Tiffani could see the practical angle of that—as well as why somebody wouldn’t want to undress on a rooftop of their workplace on a night that was turning a little chilly—but she had to admit to being a little disappointed.
And there he was. Still Martin—though it was hard to imagine a horse named Martin—but so incredibly different. He tossed his mane at her.
She tossed her hair back at him.
He laughed a horsey laugh.
Very tentatively, as though he would melt away beneath her touch like a dream, she stretched out her hand and petted his nose and the star on his forehead. It was like touching warm velvet.
“I’ve never been on a horse before,” she said. “That was another thing I used to lie about. Don’t tell anyone—actually, you know what, tell whoever you want, I’m done caring. How do I, um, mount?”
Martin lowered himself to the ground, which was probably not a level of consideration you got out of actual horses.
He also folded his wings down to each side, swooped almost flat, which was definitely not a consideration you got out of actual horses.
Tiffani took a deep breath and carefully climbed up.
His back was so wide and he was tall even with his knees bent. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he came slowly up to his full height.
“If I start choking you, neigh,” she said. “But otherwise, I’m probably going to wind up clinging pretty tightly. And the rider holds on with her knees too, right?”
Martin nodded.
Tiffani jammed her knees as tightly against his ribs as she could. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him, but she also hoped she wasn’t getting herself killed. At the moment, the latter fear had a slight edge.
“Okay,” she said. Her voice shook a little. “If I fall and smack my head and wake up telling everyone I fell off a pegasus, don’t let them commit me. And if I die, tell Jillian I love her.”
Martin made an outraged-sounding whinny.
“I’m not saying I doubt your driving skills. I’m just saying this is intimidating. But... I’m ready.”
As soon as his hooves left the roof, Tiffani knew this for the lie that it was. She hadn’t been ready. There had been no way she could ever have been ready.
She was gliding through the new night air, smooth as a knife through butter, and the breeze was warm and Martin’s wings moved in steady, slow beats. Her place on his back was rock-steady. Her frantic clinging to his neck became a much gentler embrace.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “This is magic.”
The stars were coming out all around them, peeking through the sky as it darkened. Below them, the city was spread out like a carpet, and all her worries seemed small.
From here, no matter how big they were on the ground, all the homes and country clubs of the people who had snubbed her and belittled her looked like dollhouses or Monopoly pieces. She couldn’t worry about them from this height. Why would she even look at them when she could look at the river, winding its way through the landscape like a silvery snake? When she felt like she could reach up and touch the moon?
From here, she could do anything. She could be anything.
She could be Martin’s soulmate.
She was Martin’s soulmate. Suddenly she was beyond all reasonable doubt.
He was a flying horse, and she was a woman who rode flying horses. Her hair had come out of its sensible bun and was streaming back over her shoulders. She felt like she should have been wearing a sword, but maybe that was getting a little bit carried away. All the same, she felt powerful and grand. Heroic.