Geoffrey sniffed. “It is a bit ostentatious, I suppose.”
A strident honking noise sounded, making Matthieu jump. “Putain,” he swore. “What the hell was that?”
The dragon beside him groaned and muttered, “Damn.”
“Honk. Honk honk honk hoooooonk.”
The source of the noise became evident as a peacock stomped over, stopped in front of the dragon, and unfurled his tail feathers. “Honk!”
“Go away, Lucian,” Geoffrey hissed at it.
The bird merely pranced a bit and then honked again.
Geoffrey sighed, dropped something on the ground from his pocket, then strolled by the distracted bird. Matthieu looked down and saw the peacock devour what appeared suspiciously like a raisin, peck the ground a bit, then devour another.
“Do hurry before he runs out of fruit,” Geoffrey called. “Otherwise he’ll try to follow us inside.”
“Do you and that peacock have a history?” Matthieu asked.
Geoffrey looked pained. “He belongs to Ian Brand. Your… uh…”
“Soon-to-be sperm donor?”
The look the dragon gave him could’ve frozen a volcano. “Yes.”
“And you know his bird.”
Geoffrey rang the doorbell. “I would not say we were intimately acquainted, no.” Color rode high on his cheeks.
“But you had raisins in your pocket.Fascinant.”
Matthieu, despite himself, was interested. Something was going on here. He wasn’t sure what, but now he was determined to find out.
Geoffrey was saved from answering when the door swung inward. The interior of the mansion was, if possible, worse than the faux classical exterior. What Matthieu could see from the entryway was stuffed full of a horrible mélange of mismatched antiques and pretentious contemporary pieces. All in all, it was thoroughly hideous. He shuddered at the idea of having to live here, potentially for centuries.
The best-case scenario, Matthieu decided, would be one in which he didn’t catch. In that case, he’d be free of his awful dragon and his hideous lair in a year. If the worst-case scenario happened and the dragon did manage to sire a clutch with him, Matthieu would have more to worry about than a hideous eyesore of a home.
“Mr. Drake, it’s good to see you again,” said a smooth voice. It belonged to a man so butlery, he should have had “Jeeves” stamped onto his forehead. “Is this Master Ian’s new omega?”
Matthieu crossed his arms over his chest. “The omega has a name and a brain and the ability to speak for himself,compris?”
The butler raised both brows, but otherwise, his expression remained unaffected. “I apologize, sir,” he said in French with only the merest trace of an American accent. “Please, forgive me.”
Maybe this hellhole would be tolerable after all.
“You are excused,” Matthieu replied in French. “My name is Matthieu Achille Boudreaux. And you are?”
“Bishop, Master Matthieu. I’ve been informed by Lord Brand that I should show you to the guest house.”
Geoffrey inserted himself smoothly into the conversation, switching it to English. “Thank you, Bishop, but it will be unnecessary. Harrison and Everard have entrusted me with Matthieu’s safekeeping, so I will deliver him myself. I remember the way to the guest house quite well. Unless, of course, you’ve moved it on me?” Geoffrey stood, his arms crossed over his chest, practically vibrating with tension.
“No, sir. I assure you it’s in the same spot it’s always been in. Would you care for me to send up some refreshments?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Oui,” contradicted Matthieu. “While some of us seem happy to thrive on air alone, I have not eaten since breakfast.” He was pleased to see the dragon flush with what was hopefully shame. “J’ai très faim. I’m hungry enough to eat your cock.”
“What?” Geoffrey choked.
