Chase descended in a tight spiral, centered on a tall, elegant apartment block. The building's large, flat roof was beautifully planted with lush rosebushes around a vibrant green lawn. Chase landed so gently, Connie barely felt his hooves touch down on the grass.
The pegasus went down on one knee, stretching out one wing like a ramp. When she didn't move, he bent his neck to look back at her again, the dark eye warm and concerned. He nickered, very softly. His velvet-soft nose nudged her limp foot.
Connie slid gracelessly off his back. Her knees couldn't support her. She would have collapsed in a heap, but suddenly Chase's strong arms were around her.
“It's okay, Connie,” he said softly. “I've got you. It's going to be okay.”
“It is not.” Abruptly, irrationally furious, Connie shoved futilely at his hard chest. “It's not okay, Chase! Nothing is ever going to be okay, ever again! I crashed, and I lost my plane, and, and, and you're a fucking horse!”
“Pegasus,” Chase corrected.
“Do not dare argue zoology with me! Or, or mythology, or whatever fucking field of study is fucking relevant here!” Connie pounded her fist against his shoulder. He didn't flinch. “You should have told me, Chase! I crashed and, and all this time you're some sort of shapeshifter, and you should have told me!”
“I know,” Chase said quietly. He kept holding her, no matter how she scratched at him. “I'm sorry.”
“You should have told me,” she snarled at him. Hot tears burned her eyes. “You lied. You're a fucking liar and I hate you and I never want to see you again.”
Then she collapsed against Chase's chest, burying her face in his flight suit as she cried.
He let her sob, just gently cradling her as her tears soaked his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, strong and reassuring.
When she'd cried herself out, he put a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. His steady black eyes met hers.
“It's not lost, Connie,” he said, with utter certainty. “We are going to get your plane back. Trust me.”
Connie shook her head. “It's gone. I lost my mother's plane, Chase. The only thing I had left of her, and I destroyed it.”
“You saved it.” Chase took hold of her shoulders, making her face him square on. “I saw it sinking as I carried you away. It went down in one piece. We will get it back.”
“How?” Connie's mind shied away from estimating the cost of any recovery mission. “It's at the bottom of the sea. It'll be impossible to recover.”
One corner of Chase's mouth quirked. “Connie, you just saw me turn into a pegasus. Are you seriously going to argue with me about what's possible?”
She had to admit, he had a point.
She sniffed, swiping the back of her hand across her dripping nose. “Why didn't you tell me? About the pegasus thing, I mean.”
Chase let out his breath in a long sigh. “I wasn't allowed to. The rule in my family is that we're only allowed to reveal what we truly are to our mate after marriage.”
“So that's why you kept proposing. There really was a
secret you weren't allowed to tell me.” Connie paused, blinking. “Wait. Your family? Are you all… whatever you are?”
“Shifters. We're called shifters. And no, not my whole family. My mom's side of the family are all ordinary humans. But me, my cousin Killian, and my dad are all pegasi. My uncle was too, but he died when I was little.”
“So there's three of you.” Connie's mind reeled at the thought of there being other people who could do what Chase did. “Three shifters.”
“Um. You should probably be sitting down for this bit.” Gently, Chase sank down on the grass, drawing her down with him. “There are a lot more shifters than that. There's a whole hidden society of us.”
Connie stared at him. “A whole society of people who turn into pegasus…es?”
“Pegasi. And no, of course not.” Just as Connie started to relax, he added, “The vast majority of shifters are just ordinary animals—bears, wolves, lions, that sort of thing. Pegasi are very rare. Even rarer than dragons.”
“Dragons,” Connie echoed faintly.
“Ah, well, yes.” Chase raked a hand through his hair, frowning. “I should probably tell you about those sooner rather than later, seeing as how one was responsible for crashing your plane. Well, I think technically it was a wyvern, but you said you didn't want to get into comparative mythical zoology, so let's just call it a dragon for now. Particularly since I can hardly believe it was really a wyvern. I thought they were just a story. Like leprechauns or unicorns.”
“Oh, good,” Connie said, unable to control the hysterical edge to her voice. “Everything is back to normal. You've gone back to talking a mile a minute without making the slightest bit of sense.”