Sigric Brand, head of the Topaz clan, did not deign to lift his head when his son—the seventh of nine clutch-mates—burst into his office without knocking. Molten-copper eyes locked on the screen of his desktop, fingers flying across the keys, it would have seemed he was not aware that he had company had it not been for the twitch of irritation that throbbed in his temple.
“Father—” Ian said in as loud a voice as he dared. Being cautious around his father was an old habit that Ian had learned early in life. One never knew what might set his father off, but his wrath was always best avoided whenever possible. All dragons healed well, but the Topaz clan had little physical magic, and as such, healed more slowly than the majority of their peers. Ian had spent enough of his early years regenerating burned and maimed limbs to not be permanently wary of his sire.
“No.”
The single syllable from Sigric made Ian flinch, but he paused, gathered his courage, and tried again.
“Father.”
Sigric stopped typing. At length, he looked up from the screen. A stern expression of displeasure curled his lips, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “I have too much to do to spend my time entertaining your constant cavil, Ian. There is nothing you can say or do to reverse my decision. You will return to the guest house and await the delivery of your omega, and when he arrives, I expect that you will exercise due diligence to uphold your end of the experiment.”
There had been a time in Ian’s life where he would have lowered his gaze and agreed with his father’s word regardless of the detriment to his own emotional wellbeing. Now could not be one of those times. Ian closed in on his father’s desk, his fists balled. He had half a mind to slap the laptop shut, not because his father was distracted by it, but because without a display of aggression, Ian knew he would never be taken seriously. Doing damage to Sigric’s laptop, however, would end with talons digging into his throat and his sire’s snarling visage no more than a nose length away. Ian slammed a fist down on the desk instead, but it did little more than send unpleasant vibrations up his arm and leave him looking juvenile.
Sigric did not appear impressed, but he did narrow his eyes with annoyance.
“Why does it have to be me?” Ian pressed, unwilling to let embarrassment derail his desperation. “Nicholas has expressed on more than one occasion that he is preparing to file the necessary paperwork to produce a clutch. He would be thrilled to have been selected. I will call him this second, and I will guarantee you that he will drop everything to come take my place.”
“No.”
“No?” Ian tightened his fingers until the crescents of his nails dug into his palm. “Father, there is no reason in the world why Nicholas shouldn’t take my place. He is willing, and I am not. Is that not enough?”
With a low, steady sigh, Sigric wheeled back from his desk. He stood at his own leisurely pace, straightening his spine until he stood entirely, intimidatingly straight. Ian, in an infantile bid to challenge him, held his shoulders back and stood straight as well, peering up into Sigric’s eyes.
“Well?” Ian demanded when his father did not reply.
“As I said before, Ian, you will return to the guest house and await the delivery of your omega. My decision is final.”
Anger ate through Ian like fire through paper, turning what small amount of regard he had for his father to ash. The dragon who lurked in the back of his mind hissed, and Ian nearly hissed along with him. “This is senseless!”
Sigric’s face took on a bitter, pinched expression. “I do not have to explain myself to a mere whelp. I’m your sire and you will do as you’re told, or else.”
“I am thelegal representative for the Topaz clan,” Ian protested, no longer willing to stay meek. Fighting for himself was one thing, but Ian was fighting for far more than his own safety or peace of mind. He had to find a way to make his sire see reason. “You must see the work I do is not conducive to raising a clutch. I do not physically have the time to take care of whelps. Icannot.”
Sigric shrugged, the fine material of his suit rolling with the motion like ripples on still water. “Attendant nursemaids exist for a reason. They were good enough for you and your brothers. Behave, for once in your life, like a real dragon.”
Ian wished to take one of the silver-plated fountain pens on Sigric’s desk and jam it into his father’s nostril.
“If you must know,” Sigric said as he stood, then stepped around his desk, circling Ian slowly and at a distance, like the predator he was. “My decision was not made on a whim. I chose to submit you to the lavender imbecile’s game for a reason.”
“To torture me?” Ian rebuked. He did not turn to watch his father as he paced, sure that if he did, he really would lose all composure.
“No.” Sigric sighed. “Contrary to what you may believe, it is not myraison d’êtreto torture you, or any of your brothers. The weight of my decision is hinged on several things, but primarily, it is based on what you can offer that your brothers cannot.”
Ian’s mind churned. “Pardon?”
“Your permanent residence is located in Amethyst territory,” Sigric said simply. He rounded Ian and came to stand next to him at his desk, resting one palm on its surface. “As legal representative for the Topaz clan, you have been given diplomatic immunity in the heart of enemy territory—a courtesy that will be extended to any whelps you sire.”
The bottom fell out of Ian’s stomach.
“If the preliminary research the periwinkles have done is to be trusted, you will breed a clutch with your omega during his first heat, and, more than likely, you will bond with him.”
The bottom of Ian’s stomach splattered on whatever lay below, scattering his nerves in all directions.
He couldn’t bond with the omega. It was impossible.
“And, based on your net worth, I do not believe that your paperwork for a second clutch would be turned down, even if you filed it immediately following your first.” Sigric plucked a stray hair from the front of his suit and let it fall to the floor. “What we need, Ian, is for there to be a strong Topaz presence in Amethyst-owned land. At the conclusion of the experiment, Nicholas will be given a Disgrace as well, as will each of your brothers. But you? You will be the one the purple pansies see—the one who will serve as a constant reminder that we are here, that we are doing everything in our power to rise up and fortify Topaz numbers, and that we refuse to fall behind. I willnotallow them to achieve the upper hand.”
There was no hope. Once his father got an idea in his head, there was no shaking it, and with no other Topaz permitted residence within Amethyst territory, Ian had no chance at passing the torch on to one of his clutch-mates.
