“I’m ready, sir,” Wally insisted.
Yes,Grimbold’s dragon agreed.Covet. Protect. Breed.
But Grimbold shook his head. “Not yet.”
That night he fed Wally a white chocolate blueberry éclair while Wally sat on his lap in the media room, an episode ofBuffy the Vampire Slayerplaying on the television. Wally, who knew the viewing order and title of almost every episode in the series, couldn’t recall for the life of him which one it was.
* * *
One day, four months into Wally’s stay in Grimbold’s lair, two of Grimbold’s sons paid the estate a visit. Wally recognized them right away. One of them was the doctor with the sharp tongue who’d looked at Wally with sympathy and called him a tulip. The other, willowy and fair, was the Amethyst dragon who resided in Topaz territory, and who was scandalously mated to both an omega and a Brand.
Grimbold dismissed Wally, then saw them through the foyer and into one of the main sitting rooms. The door was left ajar. Wally, who was still skittish around other dragons, but found their presence fascinating, came out from around the corner where he’d been hiding and slotted into place near the door.
“The boy will be going into heat soon, Father. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t already.” That came from the doctor—Wally recognized his voice. “All the research Harrison has conducted into color theory mating suggests that a Topaz and an Amethyst will not be able to produce offspring. Have you noticed a mate mark appear?”
Wally’s heart stood still. He leaned against the wall and looked down at his hands, tracing his way upward to search for a mark that wasn’t there. What was this color theory being brought up? He’d never heard word of it before. Was it the reason Grimbold had never taken him to bed? No dragon wanted a mate who couldn’t bear a clutch.
There came a muffled reply which Wally didn’t catch. Sickened by the thought of being replaced, he moved away from the door, intending to visit the nearest bathroom to retch, but returned after little more than five steps. Even if it hurt, he had to know the truth.
“You’ll need to submit the official paperwork,” the willowy dragon said. “As the head of the council, it’s your duty to uphold the law. I’ll complete and submit the forms myself if Sargon won’t. It’s imperative that it’s filed soon. The Topaz rebellion isn’t anywhere as powerful as it was after Ian first wrested the position of clan head from Marduke, but—”
Like before, the reply was muffled, but this time it was curt. Wally strained to hear, but couldn’t make out a single word.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, yes. Of course. I’ll prescribe an effective blocker—at least then the boy won’t lose his mind to his heat and demand you sate it by breeding him. In your situation, it’s the kindest thing we can do.”
The kindest thing to do? Wally winced. There had to be something else going on—some angle he was missing. Grimbold was too kind to agree to such a thing, and his dragon too vocal in its want to ever allow Grimbold to discard him. Crushed but hopeful, Wally lingered by the doorway. It was his hope that he might hear a clue that would illuminate the situation.
He heard the doorbell instead.
Startled, Wally tucked himself into a partially concealed position near the grand staircase. The angle he stood at allowed him to view the door through the railings of the banister while also giving him ample space to duck and hide if he so chose. Carsons, who never seemed to be far, appeared from farther down the hall and hurried to open the door.
A nightmare stood on the other side.
Blond hair. An imposing build. Sun-kissed skin and harsh, coppery eyes. A deceptively serene smile curved his lips, but Wally saw right through him. After all the horrible things Wally had suffered at his hands, it was impossible not to.
Marduke Brand’s nostrils flared. He looked away from Carsons and locked eyes with Wally.
Devour,the dragon inside Wally’s sire uttered, so ruthless and cold that Wally shivered.Obliterate, scorch, destroy.
“Hello,” Marduke said after a long, tense moment that left Wally’s palms clammy and shut down his brain. With a leisurely twist of his head, he redirected his gaze to Carsons. “It’s come to my awareness that Grimbold Drake has stolen a piece of my property. I’d like to speak to him, please. It’s about time I took it back.”
13
Grimbold
Grimbold found himself caught in a trap of his own making. Every night he slept with sweet Walter, his dragon unwilling to be parted from the boy more than was necessary, and every night Walter and his dragon begged for the same thing: that last, final joining. If Grimbold gave in, the boy would be forever stuck, with no recourse, and while Walter might think that was what he wanted, Grimbold knew that forever was a very long time.
Every day, though, he knew he was living on borrowed time. It was why he asked for Everard to provide him, and Walter, with what would amount to a bit more breathing room—a few more months for Walter to be utterly sure of both himself and what he wanted.
When Everard arrived at Grimbold’s summons, however, he wasn’t alone. He had Geoffrey with him, which probably boded ill. Geoff should have been thousands of miles away in California, not paying a social call on his sire in Aurora.
“Did you bring what I asked of you?” Grimbold queried Everard.
“Yes, I did. As to that, we’d like to talk with you.” He flicked Walter, who stood nearby with Beatrice at his side, a complicated look. “Alone.”
“Of course. Walter, will you excuse us?”
The boy gave a solemn nod, his hand on Beatrice’s head. “Sure.”
