Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Everything was good.
I finished in the shower and changed into a pair of white cotton shorts and a gray tank top. I wasn’t anywhere near as muscular or as fit as Xavier, but I did occasionally go to the gym, and I had a personal trainer on and off. I gave my hair a little shake-up with my hands. I didn’t want to look like a freshly showered mess.
Night had fallen like a dark drape over the sky. Without any nearby light pollution, I could make out every individual constellation. I found my favorite one: the Archer. He was close to the Bear and the Phoenix, just above the Marvel.
He symbolized protection and true aim. His arrow never missed. With the Archer watching over you, safety was a near guarantee.
“You like looking at the stars?” Xavier asked. He sat on a low chair next to his tent, the back tilted so he, too, could gaze up at the starry expanse. He had his legs open, his shorts high enough so that I could see the ring of gold scales around his thigh. If they were any shorter, I’d be seeing a lot more of him.
“I do.” I grabbed another chair and dragged it next to him. “I’m a big astrology buff.”
“Oh, really? Tell me what I’m looking at, then.”
I sat down and looked up. A map formed in my vision, connecting invisible lines between the bright dots. I pointed out a few to him: the Gorgon, the Actress, the Mother, the Bear.
“And that’s the Archer. It’s my favorite one.”
Xavier perked up. He looked at me, the fire making his eyes sparkle. “That’s interesting. Archery is one of my favorite sports. I’ve been trying to teach myself how to make a bow and quiver out of sand.”
“How’s that going?”
He lifted his open hand, empty, and closed it around a long and lethal-looking arrow that was the color of sand but appeared to be as solid as if it were made of the strongest wood. The arrowhead looked incredibly sharp. “This is the only thing I can create so far. The bow doesn’t form for me, much less a quiver. I’ve done it a few times before but just can’t manage to make it consistent.”
“Why do you think that is?”
He shrugged before he pushed the arrow into the ground. It stuck in the dirt before it collapsed into a small cascade of sand. “I’m not exactly sure. I’ve got some kind of block. It also takes a lot of training to create weapons from our powers. Guess I just need to find a source of inspiration.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, looking back up at the stars. “Honestly, I don’t think I know all that much about dragons.”
Xavier opened his arms and wore a happy grin. “Ask away, then. Let me be your dragon guide.”
“That’s fine,” I said with a laugh. “I can google it myself. I don’t want to keep you up too late.”
“Blake, I’d stay awake until the sun came back up for you.” He cleared his throat. “To protect you.”
Right. Of course. That’s what he meant. I swallowed and tried not to focus on the pleasant feeling that rose from that thought.
Protect.
Such a powerful word. It anchored itself in my chest.
“Okay,” I said, deciding to learn straight from the source. “I heard you mention that this was your hatching grounds… is that true?”
He nodded and took a sip of the beer he’d been holding. “It is. Dragons normally find deserts like these to lay and hatch their eggs. There’s plenty of space, lots of warm, soft dirt to dig in, and not much foot traffic that could disturb the clutch. Mom actually laid us on the same spot the house was built, around that rock formation.”
“Whoa, that’s interesting. And how long do you, um, incubate?”
“It varies. The average range is three to seven years after we were laid. And we don’t all hatch at the same time. Damien was the first to hatch, making him the oldest. There could be years before the next sibling hatches, or it could be days.”
“Huh, yeah, I had no idea that happened. I thought you guys just… I don’t know, were born like everyone else.”
Xavier winked at me. For some reason, it made my stomach feel kind of twisted. But in a good way.
“This is probably a dumb question, but when do you consider it to be your birthday?”
“Not a dumb question at all,” Xavier said. He had one hand casually resting between his legs. For a few fleeting seconds, I thought of how lucky that hand must be. “We have two days we celebrate. Our clutch day is when we were laid; we all share that. And our birthday—or hatch day, as some dragons like to say—is when we officially break out of our shells.”