“Snorre Jormun,” Everard said, his voice flat. “What an unexpected—”
“And who is this delectable creature?” Snorre purred, looking Harry up and down like he was a morsel the old reprobate wanted to snack on.
Everard moved so his body shielded Harry’s. Scales plunged down his neck.
No one snacked on Harry but himself.
“My mate,” Everard snarled. “If you touch him, I will gut you like the rotted Norse herring you are.”
Snorre looked disappointed and unimpressed, then he perked up. “Harry? Is that you, my boy?”
Harry stood on his toes and put his head on Everard’s shoulder, peering up at the old reprobate dragon. Darwin jumped onto Everard’s shoulder.
“Who is that?” Harry whispered in Everard’s ear. In Everard’s head, along the mate tether, the question was followed with elated confusion and the forming of an incredibly exciting hypothesis. Everard couldn’t make it out entirely, but it had something to do with entwined mate bonds.
Before Everard could tell him who the large dragon was, Snorre boomed out, “This is like a family reunion! Vadim, go collect Aruna, Yinju, and Gengi. Erik, tell the servants we need tea in the dining room. This is tremendously exciting, not to mention extremely convenient.”
“No, it bloody well is not,” Everard snapped, beginning to lose patience. “I came to find my brother, who I know is here, by the way. I demand you produce him.” He swiveled to the redheaded man. “You.” He tried to remember the omega’s name and drew a blank.
“Matthieu,” Harry supplied.
“Yes, thank you, cashew. I have no idea how I could have forgotten.” Everard drew himself to his full height and addressed the errant omega. “You, limoncello, smell like my brother and another dragon—one not in this room. Why? Where is my brother?”
“Excusez-moi,” the indignant omega sputtered. “I don’t answer to you.”
Meanwhile, Everard noticed that a look passed between Erik, Snorre, Vadim, and Ingrid. There was clearly silent communication going on. In his ear, Harry let out a quiet, “Ooooh.”
“What, raspberry tartlet?” Everard whispered back.
“The mate bonds. They’re amazing.”
Everard wished he could see what Harry could. They’d have to discuss it later, in private, after they’d found Geoffrey and left this lunatic asylum.
Ingrid spoke. “Your brother is indeed here, but he is… indisposed… at the moment. But I’m sure, given the circumstances, he could be persuaded to come join us.”
Snorre snickered. “I doubt that boy is capable of coming anywhere at all. Not for a few days, at any rate.”
To Everard’s consternation, Matthieu colored, his cheeks becoming nearly as red as his hair. He ignored that, though. There were other matters afoot. “Indisposed? Is Geoffrey ill? I am a doctor—take me to him at once.”
Again, Erik, Snorre, Vadim, and Ingrid exchanged significant looks, and again, Ingrid spoke for all four. “Let’s have some tea and then we’ll see if Geoffrey and Ian are up to joining us. They are getting some much-needed sleep, I’m afraid. We’ll send a servant to see if they’re awake. But in the meantime, please, let us entertain you.”
“You are family, after all,” Snorre exclaimed.
“I beg your pardon,” Everard said in chilly tones. “Ian? Ian Brand? The Topaz counsel? What the devil is he doing here, and why is he indisposed at the same time as my brother? Somebody damn well better start explaining what’s going on.”
“Family?” Harry asked, because of course he’d get snagged on that word.
“The only family that matter, macaron, are you and Darwin and Geoffrey.”
“And Steve,” Harry pointed out.
“And Steve,” Everard conceded.
“And Perry and Seb and the nephews and Nate and—”
“I meant here, crumpet. Not in the entire world.”
“Oh. Okay.”
