“What?” Geoffrey asked.
“Wasn't I clear? With no Giles person readily available, the solution is clear. Until something more suitable can be arranged, Walter will live with me.”
2
Wally
Beyond the broad bay windows of Wally's room grew a tree. Its small green leaves and smooth gray bark were unlike the kind Wally had grown up with in California, so he spent a while perched by the window, watching and waiting, as uncertain of himself as he was with his surroundings.
Why had they brought him here?
A frown tugged the corners of Wally's lips. On more than one occasion, Superintendent Alcazar had told him that it was uncomely to frown, and that lips had one of two purposes: to smile, or to wrap themselves around a dragon's cock. Anything else was unsuitable for Pedigree omegas, and was to be avoided at all times, whether in the presence of a dragon or not. But it was a stupid rule, and Wally deepened his frown on purpose in quiet defiance of it.
If Superintendent Alcazar saw him, Wally would no doubt get the strap, but as far as Wally knew, Superintendent Alcazar was thousands of miles away.
Outside the window, a squirrel sprinted across one of the tree’s branches, then leapt into the air and plummeted to a lower branch on an adjacent tree. The commotion shook loose a few leaves, which spiraled and looped on their way to the ground. Wally watched them, trying very hard not to feel small and scared.
Disgraces weren’t ever chosen by dragons. Ever. Their purpose in life was to atone for the sin of not having been born a dragon, age out of the Pedigree, and live quietly far away from the family they'd failed. They were not suitable consorts for respectable dragons, and they were not shown pity or kindness. By virtue of their birth, they were a blight on draconian culture, and as such, they were to live with as few luxuries as possible. Superintendent Alcazar had told him so, and Wally knew it was true.
Which meant that the room he’d been given and all of the wonderful things in it were not for him.
Wally glanced nervously at the large, luxurious bed with its thick, soft-looking blankets and the comfortable chaise positioned several feet from where he’d taken station. Near the door was a mirror, its gilded frame worth more than Wally could ever hope to make in his life. Even the carpet—which was Persian, if Wally had to guess—was too much.
It was a test. It had to be.
The Drakes were waiting for him to indulge, and once he did, they’d swoop in to punish him. It was what Amethyst dragons did, after all. They were a scourge on the draconian world—the kind who stabbed others in the back, unlike the Topaz clan, who did their stabbing from the front, thank you very much.
And now Wally was theirs.
Another squirrel raced across the branch in pursuit of the first. Wally tightened his lips and pulled the neckline of his shirt over his mouth, no longer wanting his frown to be visible. Were there cameras here? There had to be. How else would the Amethysts know he was being disobedient?
Maybe,a troubling voice whispered in Wally’s head,there are no cameras, and they’ll punish you for perceived wrongdoings whether true or false.
Wally shivered. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the bay window, keeping the frown off his face and his feet off the carpet.
Hours passed. Wally watched the tree outside until his feet ached and his hamstrings protested, at which point he sat on the hardwood between the window and the plush carpet and took to searching the room for hidden cameras. They had to be somewhere. By his estimation, close to five hours had passed since he'd been brought to the room, and not once had a handler presented himself. The Amethysts had to be waiting for him to break.
It was too bad for them that he wouldn’t. Not ever.
Wally wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
More time passed. Shadows crept their way across the room, gaining on the daylight until there was almost none of it left. Before the last sliver of light disappeared, there came a knock at Wally’s bedroom door. Wally, who was only a visitor and not the occupant of the room, chose not to answer. As a Disgrace, it wasn't his place to say who could or couldn’t enter.
When there was no response, the person on the other side of the door knocked again. Then, after a pause, asked, “Mr. Brand?”
Anxiety clenched in Wally's chest. By birth he might have been a Brand, but blood did not excuse the fact that he was a Disgrace, and therefore a disappointment. The name wasn't his to answer to.
“Excuse me, Mr. Brand, but are you there?”
Wally said nothing, but the individual on the other side of the door didn't leave. Another series of knocks sounded, these more insistent than the ones before.
“I do apologize,” the man on the other side of the door admitted, “but Mr. Drake has made it quite clear that you are to be brought down to dinner. It pains me to have to do this, but if you don't answer, I'll be forced to open the door.”
Wally's heart leapt into his throat, and he glanced across the room in horror, wondering where he might be able to hide. There was no en suite bathroom he could duck into, and he knew that if he dared climb into such a luxurious bed and feigned sleep, he'd be skinned alive. However, if he remained on the floor speechless and still, he could very well be reprimanded.
What was the better option?
Panic struck. Like a fish out of water, Wally sucked in a rasping breath, then pressed his back firmly against the wall and tried his best to disappear.
