“Harry?” Alistair asked as he set his eyes on the omega-beta who’d rung the doorbell. Slowly, he turned his gaze on the others in the group. “Everard? It’s unlike you to ring the bell… or to let locks stand between you and my lair.”
“Yes, well, as you might have figured out by virtue of the veritable circus standing on your doorstep, today’s visit is of an unusual variety.”
Alistair’s eyes reached Ian, and at once, his brow knit with rage. Purple scales erupted down his neck, and sharpened, glimmering fangs displaced his molars. Claws displaced his fingernails, designed to rend and rupture flesh. With a snarl, Alistair advanced, but Geoffrey stepped out from behind Everard and stood in his way. Bellamy, who was in his arms, honked in warning and flapped his colorful wings aggressively. While Ian didn’t see anything particularly delicious on Alistair’s person, Bellamy wasn’t one to let a challenge stop him.
Unsurprisingly, Alistair stood down. Ian would have, too, if threatened by the modern-day equivalent of a feathery blue dinosaur. A hostile dragon, at the very least, could be reasoned with. A peacock, barring the gift of delicious raisins, could not.
“What is a Topaz dragon doing on my doorstep?” Alistair demanded as his claws tumbled one by one from his fingertips. Harry watched with wide eyes, then squatted down to pick one up from the landing. He stowed it in his pocket. Bellamy looked at the claws, likely thought they were some species of yogurt-covered cashew, and honked to be let down. “And all these nestlers? Are they Amethyst? Why are you stepping forward to defend him, brother? Why are you trusting him around these eggs?” Alistair’s attention swiveled to Geoffrey. “He’s the legal counsel for the Topaz clan, isn’t he? What information has he uncovered about you that would bring you to stand in his defense? And why have you all come to see me today? I have exceeded the amount the council deemed necessary to sanction my clutch. There is no reason for any legal action to be taken against me, my mate, or my children.”
“Legal troubles are the least of your issues now, Al,” Everard said. “Although I may have to rescind that statement if you don’t pull yourself together. You’re dribbling. I’d expect such sloppiness from a whelp, but from you? If the council found out that you were shedding claws in public like a common cat instead of absorbing them like a respectable dragon, all the riches in the world wouldn’t save you from their fury.”
Harry hesitated, then silently reached for a second claw and stowed it alongside the first.
Geoffrey’s posture stiffened. “Brothers, please, compose yourselves. Alistair, the conversation we’re about to have is the kind best had behind closed doors. May we please be let in?”
Alistair puffed up—no doubt he’d noticed Matthieu, who stood at Ian’s side. “And an omega? Everard? Geoffrey? Who is this, and what is happening? He smells like family, yet doesn’t.”
“My name is Matthieu Boudreaux.” Matthieu lifted his chin, his eyes fierce with his conviction. “Cousin of your mate. I am here to call upon you and upon him. Please, help us. If you do not, there is a chance that your brother, our children, and I will die.”
32
Nate
Nate sat in the library, studying a rather obscure sixteenth-century illuminated manuscript on alchemy with Malory by his side. Malory couldn’t read yet, of course, but he enjoyed looking at the pictures and could follow along well enough through their parent-offspring bond to periodically provide baby dragon insights. Unlike one of his brothers, he could also be relied upon to contain his fire, so he was allowed to study with his papa.
Nate took a second to feel for the others. Abelard was with Alistair and Chaucer was napping with Olive. All was right with the world. He went back to his manuscript.
A horrible noise rent the golden—and heretofore silent—afternoon.
“HONK!”
Then there was squealing, and a crash, and the sound of pig trotters clacking on the hardwood floor.
In Nate’s mind, Chaucer went,Wheeeeeeee!
Malory rolled his purple eyes at his papa.
“What the hell?”
There was a polite knock on the library door. Nate stomped over and threw it open. Alistair stood on the other side, looking apologetic, uncertain, and a little anxious. Nate’s irritation mostly dissolved into a puddle of sentimental goo. He couldn’t help but adore Alistair. It was impossible not to.
“Honk honk HONK!”
There was a crash followed by a porcine squeal.
“What the hell is going on?” Nate asked. “Are we being invaded?”
Alistair glowered, which was adorable. It made Nate want to kiss his very patrician nose. “In a manner of speaking, love.”
There was another crash. Nate scooped Malory up. “Do we attack? Don’t expect me to hide. Sebastian has been showing me—”
“Ignatius, please listen to me. Harry and Everard are here, and they’ve brought Geoffrey with them.”
The burst of pleasure that Nate felt upon hearing his friend’s name was soured by learning Geoffrey was also present. He was probably worse than Everard when it came to being officious, intrusive, and annoying.
Alistair went back to wringing his hands fretfully. Abelard, who’d been hiding under Alistair’s sweater, poked his head out and laid his muzzle along his sire’s neck. Alistair stroked the whelp’s head absentmindedly. “In addition, there’s a Topaz dragon with them.”
“What?” Nate’s heart started to pound with adrenaline and fear. He flashed back to that horrible day with Perry and Harry, when they had barely survived a Topaz dragon attack. It would not happen here, in his den, with his family present.
