“My cock is quite well, thank you,” Ian replied without missing a beat. He thanked Fiona, then led Matthieu to the front door of the consulate, only to be stopped by an offended honk from the front passenger side of the BMW. Lucian glared at him from the front seat and pecked at the window to make a point. Ian, never one to leave a cock unsatisfied, corrected his offense and set Lucian free. Lucian hopped down from the seat, stumbled, then regained his balance and lifted his head vainly, like he’d meant all along to botch his landing. He teetered toward his brothers, uncertain on his feet, and came to rest his head on Bellamy’s neck. Bellamy blinked, sidestepped, then pecked at the feathery tuft on Lucian’s head. Lucian kicked at him, only to land flat on his ass.
Matthieu snorted. “Mon dragon,I confess I am quite impressedwith your cocks.”
Ian smiled back. “Indeed?”
“Oui. I don’t know much about birds, but yours seem…exceptionnels.”
He was so used to the birds and their antics that he rarely thought about it much, but Matthieu was right. The birds were a definite cut above normal peafowl. “I think it’s Geoffrey,” Ian said. “He loves them very much, you see, and I think a bit of that rubs off onto them. They are special because Geoffrey’s will demands it to be so.” Ian frowned. “That’s not exactly right, but it’s close enough. The consulate has always had peacocks. It wasn’t until Geoffrey came into my life, however, that they started having personality. They are his little family. Our little family. Do you see?”
Matthieu frowned, looking wistful and sad. “I do.Oui.”
Ian reached for and took Matthieu’s hand in his own, needing to comfort and, in turn, feel a connection. Matthieu graced him with a tentative smile.
They headed into the consulate together.
“This will be your home,” Ian stated as they made their way through the foyer and into the main parlor. The back wall was occupied by bookcases divided in subject matter between fiction and nonfiction, and the floor was occupied by several sleek, modern sofas complemented by stylish, yet functional, coffee tables. There was no rug. While Geoffrey was a great connoisseur of ancient relics, Ian had little attachment to dusty things better displayed in a museum, save, of course, for the small displays he kept in his office and bedroom—the most private rooms in the consulate—which reminded him of Geoffrey when they were forced to be apart. “You are welcome to use it as you’d like, and travel in it where you please.”
“And if I wish to leave?” Matthieu asked. He plucked at a corner of the nearest couch’s back pillow and raised an eyebrow, seemingly satisfied with the quality of the furniture.
“There are Attendants who will escort you out, if you wish,” Ian said. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “My driver’s name is Fiona, and she will be at your disposal. I’d offer you access to my private vehicles, but I’m reasonably sure you were never taught to drive.”
“Drive?Non.” Matthieu glanced in his direction, then looked away. “I thought you would forbid it, if I am honest. What if I run?”
“I don’t think you’re foolish enough to do that.” Ian slid his hands into his back pockets and looked out the window. Outside, all of the boys strutted across the yard except for Lucian, who wobbled. At this point, Ian was fairly sure the sedative should have worn off—Lucian was pretending to be drunk for show. “You know that if you run, you will be found. I think, too, that you know what would happen to you after you are recovered.”
There was a long silence. At last, Ian looked away from the happenings on the lawn to focus his attention on Matthieu. In the time he’d taken to watch the boys, Matthieu’s confidence had deflated. He looked at Ian’s scorched leg with worry.
“I will protect you,” Ian said in a soft voice, causing Matthieu to lift his gaze. Their eyes met, and Ian noticed Matthieu’s bottom lip quiver. A trembling thread of sorrow and worry embroidered itself inside Ian, but he figured that it had to be his own. With what they’d learned today, there was so much to worry about—so much to fear. “I meant what I said. But you have to help me, too. You have to keep yourself safe.”
Matthieu blinked like he was fighting back tears, but Ian saw no sign of weakness on his face. “I will.”
“We’ll figure this out.” Ian wasn’t sure if his words offered Matthieu any comfort, but speaking them strengthened his own resolve. “In the end, everything will be okay.”
“I suppose it depends on what you consider to be the end,” Matthieu mused. Despite his reluctance to agree, he seemed soothed. “I trust you,monsieur dragon.I do not think you will do me harm, and I believe what you say. You are not liketon père—I have seen as much with my own eyes.”
For as long as Ian lived, he hoped what Matthieu said would be true—if there ever came a time when he was like his father, it would be his greatest failure. There were more important things in life to aspire to than positions of power.
“Geoffrey will be here tonight,” Ian said, unable to look away from the young omega before him. His lover’s mate—the one whom Geoffrey would treasure more than his hoard, and who would bear his eggs. Ian imagined Matthieu on Geoffrey’s bed, surrounded by finery, strings of pearls draped over his bare chest and diamonds spilled down his hip. The image was pretty, but it was made exquisite when Ian’s mind broadened the fantasy to include Geoffrey, nude, beside him, dainty golden bangles on his ankles and an elegant golden circlet plucked from Ian’s hoard on his head, its floral design made all the more stunning by a single, exquisite sapphire set at its center. Both of them turned their attention across the room, their gazes landing on Ian, the look in their eyes coquettish.
Come,was the unspoken invitation.
Claim. Adore. Love,insisted Ian’s dragon.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
Ian cleared his throat, his imaginings having distracted him from his point. “As there has been a disruption to our regular business affairs, he’ll be stopping by so we can catch up. I think it would be prudent if you were there as well.”
“Of course.” A flicker of something forbidden burned in Matthieu’s eyes, and it left Ian at a loss for words. If Geoffrey and Matthieu were mated, there should have been no room in Matthieu’s heart for anyone else, yet Ian got the feeling that Matthieu was as interested in him as Ian was in Matthieu. “I will be there,monsieur dragon.Would you like for me to bring anything?”
“Only yourself.”
“Merveilleux.” Matthieu hesitated, then stood on his toes and kissed Ian’s cheek chastely. “You are very kind,” he said in a whisper meant only for Ian’s ears. “Of all the dragons I could have been given to, I am glad that I have found my way tomonsieur dragon grincheuxand you.”
Ian’s heart skipped a beat, and heat rose in his cheeks.
“I won’t keep you,” Matthieu continued. He stepped back, mischievous delight in his eyes. “I know that you aretrès importantand alsotrès occupé. I will explore the house on my own, and I will see you tonight.”
“For dinner,” Ian insisted.
