Matthieu bowed his head. “And after, to serve at your side during your meeting with the esteemedMonsieur Drake.”
With that said, Matthieu curled his fingers in a wave, grinned a grin that made Ian’s cock twitch, then turned on his heel. A moment later, he was gone, but memories of him smiling at Ian from Geoffrey’s bed, covered in treasure, lingered. Ian touched the place on his cheek where Matthieu’s lips had been.
Of all the omegas he and Geoffrey could have been given, he was glad that Matthieu had found his way to them, too.
13
Geoffrey
After Ian and Matthieu left, Geoffrey felt unusually tired, with the beginnings of a headache, so he decided to lie down for a time. He could smell Matthieu on his bedsheets. Geoffrey vacillated between wanting to ask Angela to strip the bed and burn the sheets and wishing to wallow in the scent forever.
The mate bond was very strange. Geoffrey had been told, or led to believe, that the bond ensured exclusivity. There was never a question of infidelity with mates, because the idea of it was impossible. Nevertheless, Geoffrey still loved Ian. Still desired Ian. Still felt, in his most secret heart, like he was bonded to Ian. Even lying on bedding suffused with the scent of his supposed mate, Geoffrey would have ceded his body willingly to Ian’s touch had he been there to touch him.
Based on the evidence of his arousal at the thought of another person, a mate bond with Matthieu seemed impossible. The only reason Geoffrey gave it any credence at all was that he felt it. He wanted to touch Matthieu and smell him and taste him. He wanted to immerse himself in the omega and drown in his brandy eyes. Then he pictured Ian and his desire for Matthieu dimmed enough that he could again feel his longing for the Topaz dragon.
Geoffrey hadn’t thought it possible, yet here they were: he was mated to an omega, yet felt as if he still shared a bond with a dragon. He wanted them both, and the paradox was tearing him apart.
While he jerked himself off in a vain attempt to tire himself into sleep, Geoffrey’s mind surrounded him with both men. They kissed and caressed and owned his body, bending and shaping it to their whims. Had the fantasy not been impossible, it would have been quite utterly perfect. Then he was struck by a long-buried memory. There had been a dragon who supposedly had more than one mate, or at least that had been the rumor. Geoffrey had never been sure how much credence to give to the tales, but now, as he turned it over and over in his mind, he wondered.
* * *
Geoffrey remembered being at the council when it had happened. He’d stood behind his father, Grimbold Drake, head of the Amethyst clan. At that time, Grimbold wasn’t the head of the council—Liu Wei of the Gold clan was—and they were outside of Beijing. Aurora was centuries from being founded.
Ødger Jormun, head of the Opal clan, stood with his counsel, Snorre Jormun. He inclined his head to Liu Wei. “I regret the necessity of this,” he said. “Snorre has been the Opal counsel for over two thousand years.”
“Perhaps,” Liu Wei spat, “that is the problem. We think that the Opal counsel needs a change of scenery. His own homeland would be fine.”
That was over four thousand miles away. Geoffrey knew the reason for the exile now, in hindsight, but at the time he hadn’t understood.
“My uncle is a venerable dragon—” Ødger started.
“Snorre Jormun is a relic and an embarrassment. He is crass and uncouth and his behavior has been scandalous. In the past, we’ve overlooked his offenses because we’ve been obliged to, but, as was inevitable, Snorre has gone too far. Even if I didn’t think sending him away was the best option, Emperor Kangxi has given me no choice. Snorre is to be exiled from the Nine Provinces and never allowed reentry. In addition, as head of the council, I recommend that he be supervised in the future to prevent further… mishaps. Perhaps you can finally cure him of thinking that he is allowed to do what he pleases merely due to an accident of continued survival.”
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” complained Snorre Jormun, the now former Opal counsel. “All I did was take a piss.”
Liu Wei looked like he longed to incinerate Snorre on the spot. When he spoke, he did so in a curiously pointed way that, even then, had made Geoffrey question his retelling of the supposed events. “You were drunk and took a piss, as you say, in the Imperial Garden. You are lucky that the emperor is merely asking for exile, and not your perverse dragon’s head. Get him out of my sight, Jormun. I do hope your next counsel is less troublesome.”
Ødger inclined his head again at Liu Wei. “I assure you, Erik is very obedient.”
“For an Opal,” muttered Ammon, head of the Onyx clan.
“Erik?” Snorre exclaimed. “That wet-behind-the-ears whelp? He’s not yet five centuries old. Surely you must be joking.”
“That’s quite enough. Jormun, deal with your clansman, or I will.”
At that point, Snorre began to curse rather imaginatively in a combination of Cantonese and Old Norse. There were numerous hand gestures and the room was singed by dragon fire a few times before Ødger managed to drag Snorre from the room.
Grimbold shook his head. “It happens sometimes,” he said softly to his son. “Old dragons becoming like whelps again. Even we, it seems, are not meant to live forever. It’s almost a shame. All that knowledge is now contaminated with the self-control and reasoning of an egg.”
Geoffrey had frowned and thought to himself that he hoped he never became that old.
* * *
Geoffrey sat bolt upright in bed. “Snorre,” he said out loud.
“Sir?” Angela asked. She carried a loaded-down tray.
“Nothing, Angela. What do you have there?”
