I can tell by the smirk twisting on his face that he thinks he’s won. So, instead of pouting, I gather up the papers and tuck them under my arm. Will Drax read it for me and tell me what it says? Can I trust him to be honest?
My gut and my dragon both give me a resounding “yes” without hesitation. I don’t even know him, so I don’t know how I can be so sure, but in a world of uncertainty right now, I’ll cling to the one thing that seems solid as long as I can.
I clear my throat and set my face into the stoniest expression I can.
“Why do you want that cursed amulet? I went to Belinda’s house, and I saw what that thing did to her. It was horrifying.” I shake my head. “What are you going to do with it?”
“That’s not your concern,” Auri answers coolly. “I give you a job to do, and you do it. That’s the deal. You can read all about it in the fine print. Now, if you don’t have any more questions…” He turns his attention back to his computer without waiting for my answer.
I have a thousand more questions, but clearly none that Auri will give me an answer to, so I stand up and stride out of his office. At least I got my contract and I’m leaving with my balls. Small victories.
DRAX
Not mates.I growl under my breath at such an absurd idea, delicately prodding at the bond the way humans often tongue asore tooth, unable to stop reassuring myself that it’s really there. How can Mac say we’re not real mates? He wears my ring, and his dragon has accepted me, what more could he possibly want?
“Why the long face?” I startle at the sound of Roman’s voice. I was so absorbed in thoughts of Mac that I didn’t hear the wolf come in.
I reach up to feel my face. I let go of my glamour as soon as we returned home, so my face feels perfectly normal, just the right length.
Roman laughs.
“Why are you pouting?” he asks, seeming to forget about his first bizarre question.
“I’m not pouting,” I grumble, needlessly flipping through the book of mages I pulled off the shelf and haven’t actually started reading yet.
Roman heaves himself over the back of the couch and flops down, stretching out so he takes up all the space I’m not occupying. His feet nudge against me in a way that feels purposeful, but his face scrunches up in a grumpy look that dares me to mention it. He sniffs the air, then frowns.
“Does it have something to do with the fact that you smell like you fucked the dragon?” His nostrils flare and he breathes in a little deeper, the irritation in his eyes replaced by a warm, horny expression. “Not the worst smell, if I’m honest. You work quick though. How long has he been here? Twelve hours?”
My tail swishes with annoyance and I glare at the wolf. I wish there was some way to block my scent from him. I don’t want him sniffing me and imagining my mate naked and sweaty.
“We didn’t fuck,” I growl. “We mated.”
His bushy eyebrows fly up and he barks out a laugh.
“Youmated? Jesus, that was fast.”
“Again, what does human religion have to do with this?” I grumble. “And fate doesn’t care about timelines. Don’t wolves have fated mates?”
He shrugs. “Fate, hormones, who can tell the difference? I can tell you that it’s not normal to mate when you don’t even know someone though.”
“Maybe not for you,” I mutter, trying to refocus on the dusty tome in my lap. His words echo in my head though. “Not normal for wolf shifters or not normal in your realm in general?”
“Not normal anywhere that I know of.” He sneaks his feet under the book and into my lap. They brush against my soft cock, but there’s nothing sexual about the touch or about Roman’s scent, so I don’t push him away.
I grunt in understanding. Is that why Mac was upset? He’s the one who initiated the mating bond, but perhaps he acted rashly and regrets it?
“How would you court someone you wanted to mate?” I ask.
Roman snorts with amusement. “I wouldn’t.”
“How is it done though? What are the rituals?”
“Dates. Doing nice things to show your interest.” Roman shrugs again. “It’s kind of individual.”
Maybe I could find a book about it to study. If I can perform the right rituals, perhaps Mac will be happier. I nod in thanks. At least he’s given me something to think about.
The library doors swing open, and my mate’s scent washes over me instantly. I sit up, inadvertently dumping Roman’s feet out of my lap, and crane to see Mac entering. He stops just inside the door with a large stack of parchment in his hands. He blinks and looks around at the room like he’s not quite sure where he is or why he’s here. His gaze lands on me, and I can feel the zing of relief in our bond, warming my insides and soothing the lingering sting of his earlier rejection.
