The blue room was not known as “blue” by virtue of the paint on its walls, the color of the sheer, gold-dipped voile curtains and drapery that framed its windows, or the hue of the sheets on the bed. No. The blue room was blue for one distinct feature alone: its treasure.
Ian had never seen anything like it before.
Twin mountains of coins and other golden artifacts spilled across the floor, stacked highest against the back wall framing either side of the bed. At their peaks they were five feet tall, and as far as Ian could tell, they were gold all the way through. Cut sapphires as fat as Ian’s fist were tucked into the mounds of treasure, some a pale powder color, others a vibrant, cerulean blue that would have made the sky jealous, and some as dark as a midnight sky. They were joined by smaller, loose gemstones—lesser sapphires, diamonds, aquamarines, kyanite, lace agate, turquoise, lapis lazuli, tourmaline, moonstones, and still others Ian couldn’t identify on first glance—and strings of perfectly smooth pearls with stunning blue tints. Hand-carved blue marble sculptures decorated the shelves above the headboards, not that further decoration was needed—the headboard itself boasted a breathtaking blue starburst design set around a piece of domed turquoise as large as a dinner plate. Coins and other golden delights spilled out from beneath the bed and were scattered across the floor.
This wasn’t Snorre’s hoard. Not even the strangest dragons would leave all of their treasure in a bedroom. This display—and it was a display, Ian had no doubt—was a mere fraction of Snorre’s wealth. It was the equivalent of Ian’s bedroom display cases, or the fine Khorassan rug he kept in his office.
The old pervert had to beswimmingin money.
“Mon Dieu,” Matthieu whispered. He took a few uncertain steps forward, then gained confidence and crossed the room. Along the way, he shed his shoes and pants, leaving them wherever they fell, until nothing remained but a pair of cheeky black panties. Heedless of the monetary value of the wealth before him, Matthieu stepped into the small hoard, then laid upon the mountain of riches. Coins cascaded down his body, precious gems came to rest against his waist, hips, and thighs, and an errant string of pearls tumbled over his ankle and down his foot, coming to rest between his toes. “It’scold.”
Matthieu laughed with relief. He fanned his arms out and moved them through the coins as if he were making a snow angel, then wiggled his hips from side to side, making himself one with the riches that surrounded him.
Heat rose in Ian’s cheeks. The treasure on display didn’t belong to him, but it served its purpose all the same. The gold, the jewels, all the priceless relics of times long past… instinctively, Ian should have lusted for them all. Instead, all he could think of was how beautiful Matthieu looked when refracted light from the sapphire on his hip sparkled on his skin.
Ian’s mind wandered to a future time when Matthieu would nestle in Geoffrey and Ian’s accumulated riches, the dips of his slender body studded with their finest gemstones, while he curled protectively around a healthy clutch of apricot or, perhaps, aubergine colored eggs and looked at Ian with adoring, lidded eyes. Behind him, nude and equally beautiful, would be Geoffrey, who’d crown Matthieu’s fiery hair with a laurel made from spun gold and stunning amethyst. Geoffrey would look up at Ian with eyes filled with desire so hot, dragon fire couldn’t compare, and Ian would go to him—to them both.
No longer were they his earth and his moon—they were his universe.
Ian shivered. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and he swallowed it down. The fantasy inspired him, but the longer he spent in his head, the less time he’d have to enjoy what was right in front of him.
“So cold.” Matthieu closed his hands around fistfuls of coins, then threw his head back and massaged them over his neck and down his chest. Seeing Matthieu decorate himself stiffened Ian until he was sure his cock could have cleaved every gold coin in the room in half. “Feels so good. So—”
Geoffrey, who’d come into the room while Ian was lost in reverie, threw his shirt aside and crossed the floor briskly. While he strode, he wrenched open his belt and discarded it, then unbuttoned his trousers. Like Matthieu, by the time he arrived at the foot of the mound, he was nearly naked. Unlike Matthieu, Geoffrey discarded his boxer-briefs before sinking to his knees amongst the gold. Matthieu looked his way, licked his lips, and abandoned his pursuit of a literal golden shower to grip Geoffrey’s bobbing erection.
Scales plunged down the back of Ian’s neck. From within, he felt his dragon gain force, awakening as it never had before.
Breed,it urged him.Take, fill, claim.
Ian could resist no longer—he did as his dragon demanded.
22
Geoffrey
Geoffrey lost himself in sensation. Had he been with anyone else, he would have hated it, but with Ian, he’d always been able to let go and lose control, and now the same could be said for Matthieu.
The omega grabbed Geoffrey’s erection and stroked it while staring at it hungrily. “Dieu, I need—”
With a speed and strength Geoffrey didn’t anticipate, Matthieu rolled them on the treasure so he sat astride Geoffrey. His skin was feverishly hot. Matthieu reached for Geoffrey’s aching cock and slid it along his wet hole.
Geoffrey sucked in his breath. “Yes,” he said, as the air left his lungs. “Take whatever you want. Whatever you need. I am yours, Matthieu. Please.”
“Mine,” another voice growled. “Both mine. Both. Mine.”
Geoffrey looked past Matthieu’s fiery hair and saw Ian tear his clothes off with fingers that ended in talons. His body was gorgeous, stippled with scales, and he’d grown somewhat larger. Geoffrey’s ass pulsed with remembered pleasure. Ian didn’t let himself get carried away like this often, but when he did, it was magnificent.
Matthieu followed Geoffrey’s gaze and stared at Ian. “Mon beau dragon,” he breathed. He turned back to Geoffrey and kissed him—plundering his mouth like it held treasure—and ground their erections together. He pulled away slightly and said, their lips only a breath apart, “Mes beaux dragons. Je vous aime tous les deux.”
My handsome dragons. I love you both.
“I love you, too. By blood and scale and bone, I vow it. You are mine.” Geoffrey once, many decades ago, had first said the archaic words to Ian, knowing it was as close as they’d ever get to mating. Now the words sang inside him, demanding to be said again.
A wet, warm tongue lapped at his balls, then trailed upward and away. Matthieu gasped, then bit Geoffrey’s lip.
“By the sky and stars and sun, I swear it,” growled Ian. “You are mine. Geoffrey, spread our kitten’s cheeks wide for me. I need to taste him again.”
Ian lifted Matthieu’s ass up and stroked Geoffrey’s cock while he buried his face in Matthieu’s ass. The omega gasped and Geoffrey surged up, swallowing his cry, taking it into himself. Matthieu kissed him deeply, passionately, and desperately, sobbing a little every time he came up for air, French curses and endearments blurring together into sweet incomprehensibility.
