Matthieu could only stare. While he did, Everard glanced at the pink whelp, who’d sneaked across the room to stand at the edge of the Austro-Hungarian needlepoint rug. His tail stuck straight out, and his back legs were slightly bent.
Everard gasped, then rushed across the room to shoo the child off the carpet. “No, Chuck! We do not do that on the rug. Naughty!”
“I hate that term,” Harry said huffily. “It’s hurtful.”
Matthieu felt a headache coming on. “Naughty?”
Harry laughed. “No! Disgrace. Disgraces are dragons. The term is hurtful and very backwards. I know no one else believes me, but that’s because dragons seem to think that clutches are made by magic and wishful thinking. They’re not—they’re made when a compatible omega dragon mates with an alpha dragon. End of discussion.”
“We shall see,” Geoffrey muttered, but Matthieu heard him plainly.
“As such,” Harry continued, “dragon omegas—”
“Disgraces,” cut in Geoffrey, snapping his mouth shut after a nasty look from Everard.
“Dragon omegas,” Harry persisted, “have the highest biological chance of producing a clutch. I aim to prove it, too. That’s where you come in.”
“You’ve been selected to be part of the breeding program,” Geoffrey said coldly. “This is an honor, omega.”
The way Geoffrey said it made it sound like exactly what it really was—a punishment.
“Merde,” Matthieu said.
“Oh! That word I recognize!” Harry exclaimed.
“Good for you,mon petit chou.” Everard looked Matthieu up and down. “You might as well go without a fight. You literally have no choice. If you go through two heats without producing either a clutch or an omega offspring, you will be free to leave the Pedigree and do whatever you wish.”
Matthieu snorted. In two heats, he’d be free regardless. “Who am I supposed to whore myself for?” he asked. He hooked a thumb in Geoffrey’s direction. “Him?”
Geoffrey flinched. “No.”
“That’s a relief,” Matthieu remarked. What aconnard. Granted, most dragons were assholes, but Geoffrey came off as an asshole’s asshole.
“You’ll be placed with Ian Brand of the Topaz clan.” Geoffrey spoke the words with a cold, clinical finality, but behind his frigidity, Matthieu got the impression that Geoffrey would have liked very much to shred him into tiny pieces with his claws. “Contracts are drawn, and all that remains is for you to sign and for us to leave this wretched place.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“California.”
“I hear it’s quite nice,” Harry enthused. “Lots of lizard species there. A pity I’ll probably never visit.” He pouted.
“That’s where the bronze bastards live, cupcake. We may go there one day, but not until Darwin can adequately defend himself.”
“Oh, of course, Ev,” Harry said, scooping up the pink baby dragon, then giving his mate a look of nauseating sweetness. “I’d never put Darwin in danger.”
From the floor, the purple whelp let out a tiny jet of flame. The pink one in Harry’s arms huffed.
“California,” Matthieu stated.
“Do you object?” Geoffrey asked, sounding pompously offended on the state’s behalf. Why the dragon had taken such an instant dislike to Matthieu, he had no idea, but he was at least not going to be the one knotting him, thank God.
“Since you’re not going to be my alpha,” Matthieu said disdainfully, “no. No objections. Let’s go. It’ll get me out of this cloister, if nothing else.”
While it wasn’t the Paris he’d dreamed of, leaving with these dragons meant Matthieu would finally escape thismerdiquebackwater and see something of the world at last. As for his traveling companions? Well, he’d worry about them later.
2
Ian
