“I cannot believe that your young, brilliant omega wouldn’t have noticed how astoundinglyennuyeuxyou are,” Matthieu bit back.
While Ian, unlike the rest of his family, didn’t wish any Amethyst dragon harm, he couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face at Matthieu’s retort. Subtly, he sent humorous energy back through the mate bond, hoping that if he thrust his emotions in the direction Matthieu’s irritation had come from, Ian’s enjoyment for what Matthieu had said would make it back.
It seemed to. Matthieu turned his head and smiled, then slipped his hand onto Ian’s thigh.
“I’m an omega-beta,” Harry corrected, sounding nothing but helpful. “I know that it’s probably very confusing, so I don’t mind if you want to continue calling me an omega, but I figured I’d let you know just in case the distinction is as important to you as it is to science.”
Steve looked up from his perch on the rear deck and fanned his dewlap. He shuffled over until one of his arms fell over the back seats and stretched his toes. Darwin lifted his head to sniff Steve’s feet, then sneezed and buried his head against Harry’s stomach.
“Bless you,” both Drakes, Harry, and Ian said at once.
“Àtes souhaits,” Matthieu echoed.
Darwin purred sweetly in thanks.
“I’m not sure how anyone becomes an omega-beta,” Matthieu replied, “but if it is what you most comfortably identity with, I will do my best to call you by it.”
“Thank you.” Harry stroked Darwin’s head, then did the same for Bellamy, toying with his ornate crown of feathers. “You really do remind me of Iggy, you know. A French, redheaded version of Iggy. I think he’ll be very pleased to meet you. For so long, he’s had no one, but now he has Alistair, and the babies, and me, and you. How wonderful is that?”
An understated melancholy trickled through the bond. As small as it was, Ian’s gut clenched, and he was compelled to remove one of his hands from the steering wheel to slot it over the hand Matthieu had rested on his thigh. Their fingers wove together, and, very gently, Ian squeezed.
“I understand how he feels,” Matthieu said simply, his voice detached and impersonal. All the pain he felt, he shared only with those closest to him—Ian and Geoffrey. They alone would know how much that statement had impacted him. “It’s funny how life works, isn’t it? To one moment be totally alone, and the next to be surrounded by so many who care for you.”
Harry sighed happily. “That’s what happens when you find your family.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Ian stole a glance at Matthieu, whose cheeks had turned pink and whose skin glowed with health and love, then peeked into the rearview mirror and appreciated Geoffrey and his stately, statuesque beauty.
For so long, Ian had struggled to find his place within the Brand family, afraid to be alone. He’d been pigeonholed by the ones supposed to love him and tolerated their poor treatment of him out of fear.
No more.
Harry’s words carried in his blood in the same way as oxygen, feeding long-neglected parts of himself once suppressed and ignored.
Family was not necessarily linked by blood, or genetic sequence, or scale color—family was what he’d found here in this car. Family was Geoffrey. Family was Matthieu. Family was Harry, and even Everard, no matter how much Everard liked to grumble about it. With them, Ian had found his place, and no matter where he went or what life threw his way, he could rest easy knowing one thing for certain—now that he’d found it, he’d never be alone.
* * *
Alistair Drake and his mate lived in what appeared to be a suburban house with a lawn, a driveway, and a white picket fence. If it hadn’t been for Harry, who’d tucked Darwin under his shirt like a child might a basketball and launched himself from the car while carrying Steven beneath his arm, Ian would have been convinced that his GPS had led him to the wrong place.
“Is this really it?” Ian asked uncertainly.
Harry rattled the gate of the fence, somehow managed to free the latch from its setting, and hurried down the path leading to the front door.
“Underwhelming, I’m aware.” Everard undid his seat belt, but made no attempt to leave the car. “Our youngest brother is… unique.”
Ian couldn’t help but stare. While the house was the largest in the neighborhood, it hardly looked big enough to comfortably accommodate a dragon and his mate, let alone three growing whelps. “Where does he store his hoard?”
“You’ll have to ask him.” Everard shrugged. “Most of it is caught up in investments, as far as I’ve been told.”
Likely sensing Ian’s disquieted astonishment, Geoffrey reached forward and squeezed his shoulder. “Compared to many, our family is unconventional, my love.”
Ian caught Everard frowning at Geoffrey’s display of affection. Everard shook his head and mumbled under his breath, “Yes. Quite.”
Harry arrived at the front door and rang the bell no less than five times. Waiting, it seemed, was not one of his strengths.
“We should get going.” Geoffrey sat back, undid his seat belt, and tucked Bellamy to his chest. The bird looked hungrily at Everard’s belt buckle. Everard shrank against the door, clutched the nestler to him like a shield, jogged the door handle desperately, and, for once, did as he was told.
All three dragons and Matthieu followed Harry’s lead to the front door, arriving at the stoop just in time for it to open. A familiar man stood in the threshold, dark-haired and purple-eyed, the same as every Drake Ian had ever met. Alistair Drake himself—not an Attendant—had come to greet them at the door.
