12
Ian
It was a long and quiet drive to the Topaz consulate, not because the consulate was particularly far from Aurora, but because Ian’s head and heart remained trapped within the walls of Geoffrey’s brownstone in Drake Commons, the large and very expensive complex of townhouses Geoffrey owned. Had he been a younger dragon, Ian might have rested his head against the door and watched the world pass by. Instead, he thumbed his phone, sending a blank, editable document up and down to keep the screen on. All he needed was a point of entry—an idea, a revelation, or a loophole—and from there, he could build a case that would prevent his father from losing his ever-loving shit on the Drake family.
Maybe.
Ian’s partially healed leg throbbed, and he winced more out of realization than pain. Words would not placate his father, and the law wouldn’t stop him from staking claims on what he believed rightfully belonged to the Topaz clan. If it was discovered that Matthieu and Geoffrey were mated, Sigric would call for Geoffrey’s execution, and if that fell through, then he would pivot and exact his right as head of the Topaz council to execute Matthieu. Either way, the mate bond Geoffrey and Matthieu shared meant that if one died, the other would soon follow, and Ian would lose them both.
He couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Do you think all is lost?” Matthieu asked quietly from where he sat. Ian looked in his direction. The spacious white leather interior of the BMW made Matthieu appear particularly small, and Ian’s conscience screamed at him.Protect. Shield. Defend.
It was an odd impulse, considering Geoffrey was the one mated to the boy.
Geoffrey.
Ian’s heart tightened. He thought he saw Matthieu wince.
“No,” Ian said. “Not everything is lost.”
Even in such a tumultuous time, the world marched onward. On a global level, nothing had changed. The blush in Matthieu’s cheeks and that radiance of his skin persisted, and his eyes, while melancholy, hadn’t dulled. Geoffrey, likewise, was still the same man Ian had adored a century ago—uptight, high-strung, and achingly handsome. All that was altered was their circumstance.
Geoffrey and Ian had worked their way through adversity before. The game wasn’t over yet.
Matthieu was silent and seemed to wilt despite Ian’s reassurance, so Ian added, “I will keep you safe.”
“I am mated to your lover,” Matthieu protested. He didn’t look at Ian, keeping his gaze on what lay beyond the window. “You are under no obligation to me.”
“That’s not true.” Not many things in life were easy—Ian had learned as much when he was still a whelp. What mattered was how he overcame the obstacles that stood between himself and happiness. In this instance, the path forward was simple. “You are now the most important person in Geoffrey’s life… and that means that you’re now the most important person in my life, too.”
Matthieu’s eyes widened, and he snapped his head to the side to look at Ian. Ian returned his gaze and offered him a kind but tired smile. For as long as he lived, he would love Geoffrey, and if Geoffrey came to love Matthieu, then Ian would do so as well, and do so wholeheartedly. He would make this work.
Cherish. Adore. Nurture.
With his dragon so fond of Matthieu, it wouldn’t be a chore. Perhaps they could find a way to make it work between the three of them. The last hundred years with Geoffrey had taught Ian that a bond was not the end-all, be-all so many dragons made it out to be.
As long as Geoffrey and Matthieu had room in their hearts for him, Ian would give of himself endlessly.
“What are you saying?” Matthieu asked, his tone hushed. He glanced nervously at the partition which separated Ian and Matthieu from the driver, as if Sigric himself was on the other side, conspiring against them.
But Ian didn’t falter. He wasn’t afraid. “If you and Geoffrey are mated, then you and I are mated, too. Where his heart goes, mine will follow. I will love him forever, Matthieu, and that means that I will love you forever, too.”
* * *
Four peacocks awaited the arrival of Ian’s black BMW 7 Series. They stood in a neat line by the front door of the consulate, their beady black eyes following the car as it crawled to a stop. Ian recognized them from where he sat. Not only did the birds always line up in the same order, but they all had small physical tells that set them apart. Killian was the largest by virtue of his plumage alone. From time to time, Geoffrey teased him about being served for Thanksgiving dinner, but as large as he appeared, Ian knew better. Beneath Killian’s thick feathers was a skinny shrimp of a bird who’d be roasted disappointment if served on a platter.
Not that they ever would.
The boys were too precious to end up on a dinner plate. The notion of eating any of them sat as well with Ian as eating a poached dragon egg.
Bellamy, who was the bizarre middle child of their small peacock family, had a penchant for eating anything, friend or foe. More than once, Ian had witnessed Bellamy peck absentmindedly at his brothers, a dazed look on his face, like he’d momentarily forgotten that not everything in the universe was made of food. His absentmindedness had once led him to peck at a house cat who’d wandered onto the property, and he’d come away from the encounter with three deep gashes across his chest where feathers now refused to grow. Geoffrey delighted in calling them racing stripes, and had once proclaimed that Bellamy was now faster than ever.
Ashley was, as far as peacocks went, the most flamboyant. His colors were the brightest, and he held himself as prettily as a Pedigree omega and with as much pride as a dragon standing within his hoard. As the car stopped and the driver opened his door, Ashley lifted his head in a regal manner, and Ian could have sworn he saw him batting his eyelashes.
Apart from Lucian, who traveled the best, and who had distinct coloration around his eyes, the last of the boys was Flake, whose genetic leucism had gifted him with brilliant blue eyes and pure white feathers. Flake fanned his feathers as Ian’s driver, Fiona, opened his door, sending the other peacocks scrambling. Killian brayed in agitation. Bellamy pecked at Flake’s tail feathers, discovered that they were not a solid surface, and tumbled through his brother’s plumage to land in a heap on the walkway.
“Quelle folie,” Matthieu commented as he followed Ian out of the car. His cheeks were slightly more flushed than they had been prior to their conversation. “Is your cock unharmed?”
