Perfect Misfits (2 page)

It was too late; her body flew through the air. She reached out and snagged a tree branch, to swing in the forsaken snowstorm at the mercy of a small twig protruding from a tiny ledge. Looking down into a vast crevasse with no bottom in sight, she thought maybe she’d get what she wished for, after all.

“No, I take it back, I don’t want to die. Creators, help me, please. Why do you hate me so?” Tempest squeaked, looking up into the sky, which continued to dump endless amounts of snow. Her hands, next to frozen, would not support her weight for long.

Above, Rogue perched on the small ledge preparing to jump after her. “Rogue, no! Stay!” she desperately commanded. A single tear rolled down her cheek, symbolizing her desperation and fear. The crazy beast would die with her; she knew that. If she fell, he would jump after her.

Rogue howled a mournful cry. His large grey-and-tan-spotted body crouched low. Tempest knew he was angry; his pointed ears lay flat against his large square head. She felt his frustration through his piercing red eyes. She swallowed a shriek as her hands slipped slightly.

Rogue moved even closer to the edge, causing chunks of snow to fall in her direction. “Rogue, listen to me. Don’t do this. You don’t need to end your life because of me.” Even as those words tumbled out of her mouth, Tempest knew the poor beast had no life worth living on the miserable mountain. They were both misfits not suitable to live with the regular folk on Levare. And there was no way to escape this miserable rock covered with ice and snow.

Tempest closed her eyes, wishing she had the power or ability to remove them from this horrid situation. It was impossible, of course, because she had no gifts—only misfortune. Poor Rogue also shared in the bad luck. He was a Gargdog, half gargoyle and half dog. His problem was his wings. A spell gone wrong, they were barely large enough for a pixie to fly with—useless wings on a grand creature. That’s what misfits were—rejects from Levare, banished from the world as though they never existed.

Her body trembled with the last bit of strength oozing from her limbs.

“Rogue goes with Tempest! I will not stay here without you,” the Gargdog growled in the form of words. She smiled up at him, proud of his speech. “I see you’ve been practicing since they separated us.” It was her attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry, Rogue,” Tempest squeaked as she slipped another half-finger length.

“Rogue loves Tempest. Not want Tempest to die without him.” Rogue hung his head. She felt his sadness.

“Rogue, I don’t have much strength left,” Tempest said weakly. “I’m not afraid of death. You know I could never be Fedor’s bride. His touch would kill me, anyway. This way is better. I won’t feel a thing,” she lied, trying to sound brave.

“We will go together. Neither will I live under his control any longer.”

Her arms now shook uncontrollably. Her hands had no feeling, but her brain forced the signal to her fingers to grasp as tightly as she could. She closed her eyes and said a quick, silent prayer for all the other misfits who suffered like her and Rogue.

We’ve endured so much pain in our lives. Please, Creators, let us have a painless death.
With her silent prayers complete, Tempest opened her eyes, looked up, and whispered, “I love you, Rogue,” and let go.

· · · · ·

The snow glittered like diamonds falling from the sky. But concealed behind the white beauty was death. This time, the dream revealed the mysterious form. Long, disheveled blonde hair hung framing her tiny face. A pair of jade-green eyes stared up into the sky, glimmering with unshed tears. Her little pointed ears suggested she might be an elf. It was as though she was staring right at him.

He felt her sorrow and despair as if it was his own.

Damn this eye.

She’s hanging onto something, but what and why? If I had the sight of two eyes, I’d be able to see the whole picture.

He turned his head to the side, trying to put the small pieces of the vision together.

Tiny hands held onto a small branch when a screech tore from the girl’s mouth. Her hands slipped.

His heart stopped.

Now, tears fell freely from her misty cat-shaped eyes.

Ryder turned his head in the opposite direction. Air left his lungs.

He stared, paralyzed with fear, looking down into the vast crevasse as her feet dangled in the air. She would surely fall to her death.

Don’t open your eyes
.
Dream, my ass
.

Every bone in his body told him this was real. Somewhere, somehow, this girl would die if he didn’t do something. The stinging burn on his paw would be bright-red. The hurt was excruciating, but pain was a familiar friend.

Ryder knew he sat perched on the highest structure in all of Levare; he’d built the tower from the centre of his home. The top of the structure contained his bedchamber. Outside the large glass doors, he sat on his chunk of crystal. It was a place where he spent endless amounts of time. Tonight, he’d decided to spend the night outside in gargoyle form, instead of inside in male form. Now he knew why.

Intuitively, he knew that in order to save the girl, he had to fall from the tower, and believed he had to hit the ground—a feat thought impossible for a gargoyle.

What will happen if I let myself hit the ground?

It didn’t matter; he had to try. Instinct said he should.

He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, hoping the girl would hold on just for a few more seconds. As his limbs relaxed, he leaned forward. His large, clawed feet were the last part of his body to leave the ledge. Unaccustomed to fear, he struggled to keep his eyes closed. His heart beat a furious tempo as the seconds brought him closer to the ground.

He focused on the girl’s tear-stricken face. He had to get to her…no matter what it took. Any second, now, he’d hit the ground. The large wings on his back were aching for release. In one quick motion, he spread them wide, only to wrap them around his body in a giant hug. He plummeted to the ground even faster. The wind whistled in his ears, but he heard her speak. “
I love you, Rogue.”

The silence following crippled him. She was falling, just like he was.

The impact of his crash on the ground was deafening, the crunch of bones sickening. Grit laced the inside of his mouth as he sputtered and spit. He didn’t have time for pain, and knew his body had already begun healing. He opened his eyes to see a mist of swirling purple-colored sparkles showering him.

What the fuck? Are they pixies?

They grew in numbers, lifting his body from the ground, and the pain subsided as he floated higher in the air. His speed increased until he shot across the sky like a star. He searched for a vision of the girl in his mind and found her.

She continued to fall.

“I need to save her!” he shouted.

Like cool kisses, something moist touched his face. The white flakes disappeared on contact. He opened his eyes to see not one, but two black forms falling through the sky below him. He didn’t know how, but he’d found her.

The millions of shining purple sparks had disappeared. He smiled and unleashed his confined wings. With a couple of powerful flaps, he tucked the giant forms to his sides and dove headfirst toward the falling figures.

What the hell is that?

The tumbling ball of a creature resembled nothing he’d ever seen before, although Levare was now host to many unusual creatures. It tumbled through the air slightly above the cloaked female. The creature had wings barely larger than two hands.

Reach the girl first. Then, save the other.

He pulled his wings in closer to his body, and the motion caused the intended velocity.

After just surpassing her falling form, he slowed his speed and spread his arms wide, catching her limp body in his arms. With an outstretched foot equipped with large talons, Ryder snagged the second falling creature by the leather attached to its neck. A growl sounded deep in the creature’s throat, and red eyes stared up at him.

The bundle in his arms weighed next to nothing. The vicious wind tore mercilessly at the black cloak she wore, ripping it away from her face. A soft moan escaped from her berry-red lips, followed by the flutter of long, dark lashes.

Chapter Two

Tempest blinked, trying to focus. The hood of the cloak whipped at her face, obscuring her vision. A coal-black eye held her gaze. She hadn’t died. She would live, and she couldn’t help but allow a small smile. Quickly, she spun her head in all directions, but large wings blocked half of her view. They were not falling, they were gliding. In seconds, she had gone from utter despair, facing death, to feeling the greatest sensation she had ever known—hope.

A whining, gurgling sound broke her happy thought, and she followed the distressed cry. Rogue dangled from his leather neck bindings, which were skewered by a sharp, extremely long claw.

“Rogue!” Tempest shouted placing a hand over her mouth in fear.

She had to make this winged creature land, or Rogue would strangle to death. Thank goodness the cloak hadn’t been ripped from her body. The long sleeves covered Tempests bare skin, but just to be sure, she clutched the cuffs into the palms of her hands and pounded on the heavily muscled chest. She couldn’t risk any part of her skin touching him.

“Please, take us to the ground,” she yelled, pointing to Rogue. “He can’t breathe; you’re strangling him.”

They tilted heavily down and to the right. Tempest’s stomach somersaulted, leaving her breathless as their speed increased. The snow-covered peaks grew closer. She thought perhaps she’d smiled too quickly a moment ago.

He flew effortlessly.

What is he?

Strong features were an understatement. He resembled the statue she’d seen as a young girl.

A gargoyle, carved from granite.

She remembered standing at the base of the magnificent creature’s feet, looking up at the sculpted face. Tempest rarely touched anything, but as a child, she couldn’t resist the impulse. She’d reached out her tiny hand to touch his massive leg.

Abruptly, she snapped her hand away. The only thing that didn’t fit the picture now was this guy’s body and hair color. He was golden-brown like the sand she used to play in as a child. His long locks fell past his shoulders in wild, unkempt waves. He was beautiful…even with large fangs.

Well, he’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen on this blasted mountain
.
No, Misfit Mountain holds no beauty; he couldn’t be from this place. Could it be the statue from so long ago? If so, how did he get here?

They soared to the right, the jagged peaks looking as though they could reach out and snag them. Meters below, Tempest spotted the small ledge and concealed entrance to what must be some type of cave. Tremors clawed at her insides. She had overheard Fedor comment that the caves within the mountains were endless.

It hadn’t been a pleasant thought for him. The control freak hated the idea that there may be places he didn’t know about. Misfit Mountain was his to control as he deemed fit.

The large, muscled arms holding her squeezed tighter. Tempest held her breath, knowing he could snap her in two like a twig. The massive webbed black wings stretched and spread wider, if that were possible, and the movement slowed their descent until they hovered just above the snow-packed ledge.

She watched Rogue squirm for freedom, his feet paddling in the air, waiting to touch the snow-covered rock. When Rogue’s big webbed feet touched the ground, the giant winged creature flexed his large toe, retracting the talon holding the gargdog. Rogue ran in circles for a moment before stopping to look up.

When they touched down, they sank an easy three feet into the snow. His chest and arm muscles tightened as the massive wings fluttered to hold them upright.

Tempest clutched with desperation at the sleeves of the cloak, praying her skin would not contact his. She guessed his legs must weight a ton. Tree stumps would be a good comparison.

Now what?

Rogue approached them head-on. The growl told Tempest her old friend had returned; anger had replaced playfulness. He’d always been her protector.

A deep, low voice boomed from above her head.

“Back-off ankle-biter. I just saved your spotted bald ass, and this is the way you show thanks.”

“Put her down.” Rogue spoke through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Tempest found herself falling to the ground, to be once again buried in snow. She came up sputtering and shocked.

“Jerk!” she cursed. It never ceased to amaze her; males—of any species—had no manners. She shook her head sending snow flying.

Manners, Tempest…You’re lucky to be alive. Besides, you’ve never known anyone with manners.

Rogue’s footfalls crunched in the snow behind her, signaling his approach, and she felt her body being pulled backward. Her hands flung to her throat, yanking on the neckline of the cloak that was choking her. “Rogue, stop it… I can’t breath.”

Rogue refused to listen until she was at least twenty feet away from their savior. Only then did he let go.

She took a deep gulp of air rubbing at her neck, and turned her grumpy stare on the gargdog who glared up at the creature before them. Slowly, her gaze followed Rogue’s.

She stared, speechless. Her stomach did a flutter, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. There he stood. For the second time in her life, Tempest wanted to touch something.

Not something–him.

His voice broke her stunned silence. “What the hell is this place?”

“I’d believe you weren’t from this hellish mountain, but you can’t expect me to believe you don’t know where you are,” Tempest huffed.

The giant stomped forward, leaving a large trench in the snow. “I can assure you, I don’t know where I am. And, now that I’ve saved your skinny ass, will you please get the hell out of my dreams.”

She was flabbergasted.

He just insulted me…again.