SkyFall (Taken on the Wing Book 2) by Elizabeth Munro Page A

alarming asymmetry of her
upper torso she hasn ’ t received even a scratch. He
read somewhere about a tornado destroying a house, leaving the kitchen table
and an unfinished puzzle intact. They ’ re
an unfinished puzzle alright, Soar and Cloud, and he hopes forgiveness hides
somewhere in the pieces.
    He checks for broken bones, every touch
sweet and soft as he caresses her tense muscles the way he used to. Soar doesn ’ t see the body that used to drive him
wild, only her and the chance he may never
see her that way again. He knows her body as well as his own and after a minute
her shallow breaths deepen and she swallows.
    “ There, ” he
tries. “ I ’ ve
got you, Cloud. ”
    “ Pants! ” she shouts and tries to
cover up but her left arm doesn't come down with the right. Soar ’ s running out of time. She can ’ t draw her wings in to increase her blood
pressure until he relocates her shoulder and he can ’ t do that without hurting her and making
things worse.
    “ Alright, little gryphon. We ’ ll find you some pants. Indoors first,
okay? ”
    Soar gathers her in his arms and holds
the base of her left wing, reaching around behind his back with his left hand
and immobilizing it as best he can so no movement pulls at her shoulder. His
other arm takes her just below her butt.
    “ Easy, ” he
stands and waits only long enough for her to inhale again then he sits on the
rail, swings his legs over and drops, taking air as gently as he can and
gliding toward his van.
    Cloud clings, her fingernails sink in
wherever they find purchase on his skin.
    “ Remember what you used to ask? ” Soar whispers over the wheeze of wind and
chatter of breaking glass. He flares his wings so their descent and landing
will be gentle. “ You always pushed me for that
one word answer, elegant you called it, and I have it. One word that tells you
everything. One word on which the rest of my days hinge. ”
    Tell me about your day, Soar.
    A rough tremor shakes through her. She
draws in sharply and doesn ’ t exhale though she tries to
grunt past the blockage in her throat. Half a mile later he touches down and
her muscles relax. With her head drawn back, her breathing eases. Soar keeps
her bare feet from the ground as he finds the key and opens up. A slush of hail
and broken glass covers the toes of his boots.
    Once inside, he draws his own wings in
and wastes no time in setting her shoulder. It ’ s tricky without someone to hold her wing
so he improvises. After wedging her in at the table, he ties the wing up before
putting her hand on his shoulder, locking her elbow and feeling the dislocated
joint. He snaps it back in place.
    Cloud screams, a good sign, though no
less alarming than the silence he listened to all the way to the ground. After
lowering her arm and bending it gently across her stomach, he holds it still.
The rest of the job is up to her.
    On his knees at her side, Soar holds her
shoulder as she continues to shriek. Her throat rattles with the discharge of
phlegm, which combined with swelling, choked her. The sound breaks and she
swallows.
    “ Draw your wings in, Cloud, ” Soar
coaxes. “ Please, little gryphon,
please. ”
    Soar keeps her upper arm pinned to her
side so her shoulder doesn ’ t dislocate again and she
growls and tries to fight him. Elbows in is not a comfortable position for
shifting but it ’ s better than the alternative
of relocating the joint again.
    Another cry breaks free as Cloud does
what he asks. Her large flight muscles soften and narrow then become rigid and
he has to hold her tighter to protect her shoulder as the big bones draw down
and in and the feathers start to fade.
    “ Fucker! ” she hollers, presumably
at him, and Soar would laugh if she wasn ’ t
in so much pain. He ’ s never heard a curse stronger
than ‘ crap ’ pass her lips and hopefully
never will if this is what it takes to make her swear.
     A solid fist bashes the camper door as
the last flight feathers