Dec picks up both plates, and I reluctantly release him. “That’s a devoted parent. I’m grateful you had him and regretful that he isn’t still in this world.”
Dec sets the plates on the table and retrieves glasses from the cupboard, spurring me to return to the task of getting our drinks. “I was lucky he wanted kids and had never had them. I was lucky that he was my closest living relative and that he hadthe money, time, and wherewithal to pursue becoming my legal guardian and adoptive parent. I’m grateful he took me in.”
There’s a note of sadness in his scent as he talks about the man, and I can’t help pulling him back into my arms as soon as I set the drinks down. I pick him up and press his face into my neck where my scent will be the strongest, thinking warm thoughts toward him so that my scent will comfort him. I know he’s not a gargoyle who’d be able to pick up the nuances of my scent and understand my actions without words, but I’m hoping that he will get some benefit from the skinship.
“We will toast to uncles who love us,” I rumble, sitting with him on my lap and pulling his plate next to mine. I’ve eaten many meals with one of my younger brothers on my lap, and Faulkes almost never stays in his own seat. The big brute is the cuddliest of us all and needs skinship more than any of us. Dec is tiny compared to him; it’ll be easy to eat with him on my lap.
Dec breathes in deeply, nose pressed to my neck and nods. “Yes, let’s do that. Is this a date?”
I feel the temperature of his skin rise as soon as he realizes he asked that question. I don’t blush, but my wings tingle with the realization that perhaps this is a date. I really, really do not have a single degree of chill, do I?
Dec pulls away from my neck and moves to get off my lap, but I lock him in place without thinking and a short growl of disapproval erupts from my throat. He narrows his gaze at me. “Thoren, I need human words.”
My teeth grind together, and I swallow the fine particles of sand that coat my tongue from them. He needs words. Human words. Right. “This is a date, you are my—mine. You are mine, and in order for that to not be true, you’re going to have to run away like Arcan did.”
Dec stares at me for an eternity of seconds that tick by connected by moments of time slowed by the singularity created by my declaration.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one of us suffering from Mine-itis,” he finally says, turning thoughtful. “It’s weird though, right? I’ve never been particularly possessive of anything or anyone. I was a kid who shared so well that when other kids took my toys, I was absolutely unbothered. My uncle thought there was something wrong with me because I let go of things so easily. But here we are, and I meet you, and you’re... well, you’reyou, and now my heart and mind keep chanting‘mine-mine-mine’like it doesn’t matter if you don’t want me. It’s stupid because I’m not an asshole about consent. I know what it is and how to respect it, but I’m fairly certain that I would find a big stick to conk you over the head with and a crane to drag your stone ass to my cave if you tried to leave me. Wow, I need to stop talking now.” He slaps his hands over his mouth, shaking his head like he can’t believe he just spoke every thought we’re both thinking.
I pull his hand from his mouth, chuckling softly. “It’s a whole mood, isn’t it? Caveman conking and I’m keeping you no matter what. My ancestors locked their mates in their wings so they couldn’t escape.”
Dec pours our drinks and hands me the glass of wine. “I thought you weren’t allowed to mate,” he says, then raises his glass. “To the uncles who raised us. We are grateful for their love.”
I clink my glass against his and sip the dry wine with him. Setting my glass down, I answer his unspoken question. “When we were a young species, mates were our breeding partners, but the word implies a lifelong companion now. I have always wanted a mate, and my plan was to go back to Ukon to find one among the other Trustworthy, but only about fifty percent of my species ever seeks a mate. Uncle has never expressed interest ina mate. He’s always been extremely settled having his nephews, and that’s true of most of the aunts and uncles who raise our spawn. Very few couples raise children; most of them care for a nest, although some are breeding partners. My mother sought a mate and they were breeding partners.”
“Do your brothers want mates as well?” he asks, giving me the opportunity to take a bite of meaty, potatoey, cheesy goodness.
Jax is entirely too talented as a chef and it’s a shame that we’re too selfish to let her leave us without much whining and begging. She’s tried to get a job elsewhere twice, and Uncle raised her salary to outmatch the competition. I think she job hunts whenever she decides her skills have improved enough to warrant a raise, but she is worth every fucking penny we pay her.
“A few of them have said they would seek out mates when we go back to Ukon, but the others are content with our plan to harvest the nest we hatched in.” I’m looking forward to becoming an uncle to a flock of hatchlings.
“When do you plan to go harvest the nest?” Dec asks curiously.
“The eggs we’re watching will be ready to hatch in about three years. The nest isn’t full yet, but we’ve watched a new egg added to it about once a year, so it will be full in about three, and then we’ll bring our babies here.” Three more eggs and the nest will be full enough for the spawn to hatch.
“Ok, you’ve lost me. Why does the fullness of the nest matter to when the hatching happens?” he questions, confused.
“Our young hatch together or not at all. The egglings remain dormant as their nest fills up, but once their nest is full, the bond between egglings will snap into place and then they mature and hatch. Our species doesn’t want to live alone, and we are born bonded to our nestmates. We live together, grow together, and many times the bond lasts for the entire lifetime of the nestmates.”
“So, on our first date, we now have a rough date for when we’re going to become parents. That seems fast,” Dec mumbles, like he didn’t mean to say that aloud.
But, yeah, it’s true. “We have three years to decide if you want that.”
I would let him go if he didn’t want the babies. They’ve been part of my plan for fifty years already. We waited for the last group to leave the nest and then put our mark on it so everyone would know that we intended to take the next group. Once a week, Faulkes travels to the nest to make sure our children are still healthy and that none of the eggs have cracked. We’ve lost four eggs in the last ten years, but we’re hopeful that the next three will be strong enough to withstand the wait, and I won’t give them up for any mate, even one as delicious as Dec.
“Dec is short for Delicious,” I suggest as my mind wanders back to what he’s hiding under his clothes.
“It’s not, and if I’m with you, I’m all in on gargoyle babies. I won’t even complain about sharing custody with your brothers,” he smirks, tapping my plate with his fork. He’s already finished his food, but I’ve been talking about gargoyles this whole time and I’m not even half done. “Hurry up, slow poke.”
If the way his scent turns thirsty is any indication, I’m going to need the energy.
Yesss.
Chapter seventeen
Dec
(Plan B it is)
