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removed his cynical false face.
    Her clit pushed against its hood. She’d had plenty of time to contemplate what she was going to do with this man.
    Heart pounding, she deliberately placed her hands on top of his. “Don’t move.”
    She wiggled to her knees, equalizing their height. Su rested her shins on his hands, holding him still. “Don’t move. Or I’ll stop.”
    Bending in, she brought her lips toward his. He bunched his shoulders but didn’t shift position.
    She stopped scant millimeters from his mouth. She could feel his warmth on her face, and her lips tingled as she paused.
    â€œYou going to do this?” he asked.
    â€œYou’re not in charge here,” she countered. “We do this my way or not at all.”
    He bowed his head, a curiously amused look through his eyes. “I am your servant, madam.”
    An illicit thrill had her nearly shuddering in orgasm at his words. How often had she wanted permission from a lover to set the pace, to satisfy her curiosity about his body and his reactions? How often had she wanted to do things her way?
    Slowly, she closed the gap between them, watching as he closed his eyes. Su touched the tip of her nose to his. At his hiss of frustration, she rubbed their cheeks together.
    His stubble did not rasp her as she had anticipated. Rather, his facial hair skimmed her skin like bird down. Pleased, she leaned forward, pressing her neck and ears against the subtle give of the feathers.
    â€œAre you actually going to kiss me?” he grumbled as she pressed the insides of her wrists against his face.
    She hummed in response, amused; then moved to softly rubbing her mouth against his, back and forth, enjoying the huff of air he gave as he struggled against her.
    Finally giving in to her own desires, she pressed into him harder, tilting her head to the right, opening her mouth, letting her tongue lick his teeth, tasting him.
    He stroked back until she groaned.
    â€œDamn.” Every single one of Umar’s body hairs stood up straight and the follicles itched. He rubbed his arms and legs as best he could. Unfortunately, there was no acceptable way to soothe the nagging irritation on his groin.
    He knew what this nagging, maddening sensation meant.
    He was going to shift.
    â€œWe have a problem,” he answered, kicking off his shoes.
    â€œWe do?” she politely inquired.
    The fine hairs on his upper face and the heavier ones in his beard stubble thickened. As he ripped off his socks, the skin of his feet had already shrunk and turned a handsome shade of yellow. Umar always did like his bird feet.
    â€œI’m shifting.”
    As feathers sprung from his skin, Umar saw the same vision he had since his first transformation.
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    Once upon a time, a man saw a woman dancing upon the boulders. Her under-dress was the finest cotton from Egypt, dyed with precious saffron. An emerald decorated her elegant nose. Golden bells encircled her chiseled ankles.
    She was everything beautiful and joyous in the world; her smile held dappled shade, her brow, the moonlight. Her eyes were as diamonds, her lips like a scarlet thread. The man’s heart was captured as surely as if she had thrown a net over him. He had to have her. He crept behind her, hiding in the shadows. Stashed deep in a crevice between two rocks, he found a dress made of red and gold feathers. He took it, for he both feared and desired her.
    She was magic come to earth. As long as he controlled the dress, she would stay with him. He would never be alone and he would possess a piece of the magic that made life worth living.
    Many years passed. She bore a child, then another. He relaxed his vigilance, believing her content. Until the day the man came home and discovered that she had found where he had hidden her dress. As she took to the sky, she cursed him, caging him as he had caged her. The roc flew off, their offspring riding her back.

CHAPTER 10
    The legend