The first is tall, pale-haired, with eyes that catch the streetlight like polished metal. The second is broader, darker, bronze-toned, his gaze alert and assessing. Loriek and Tael, dragons from the last mated group.
Their attention isn’t on us. It’s on Aura. Specifically, the runes that glow faintly along her chest, where her coat has shifted.
Loriek’s nostrils flare slightly.
“Well,” he says, voice smooth. “That’s… unexpected.”
Kelan steps forward, placing himself subtly betweenthem and Aura. “You’re far from your territory.”
A faint smile touches Tael’s mouth. “Home can be anywhere, can’t it, Kelan?”
Silence stretches, taut as drawn wire.
Their eyes flick again to Aura’s runes.
They know what she is. Her runes make it clear she’s mated to us all.
Darial shifts slightly closer to her other side, casual to anyone watching, but I’m aware of the readiness in his stance.
Loriek inclines his head. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
For a suspended moment, we look at one another, measuring and calculating. Traffic hums past at the intersection. A police cruiser rolls slowly along the curb, its lights dark but its presence unmistakable. The officer inside glances toward the cluster of well-dressed men standing too still on a public sidewalk.
Kelan growls in our minds.
Not here. Too many eyes. Too many fragile human structures surround us.
We pass them without another word.
Their attention is on Aura as we move, cool and assessing. But why should she matter to them? She is a human woman carrying mate bonds. That’s unusual, but there’s nothing special about her now that we’ve tethered her magic. And they are mated to Lythian.
Kelan says nothing more, but he vibrates with tension. We reach the car. The city noise dulls as the doors close, sealing us inside leather and quiet.
They’ve seen her,I growl.
They’re not our enemies,Darial reminds us.She is of no use tothem without her magic.
***
By the time we return home, Aura’s studio is ready. Our assistant has filled it with canvas, paints, brushes, and an easel. The bed has been removed and replaced with a work bench to house her supplies, and a large sofa for her to relax on.
Aura freezes in the doorway. “Oh,” she breathes. We watch her step inside, eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning.
“This is dangerous,” she whispers.
I frown. “Why?”
“Because it makes me hope… it makes me want to believe that all this…” she waves her arms around the room, “and all of you could really be mine.”
I move behind her, resting my hands lightly on her hips. “Hope won’t hurt you here.”
She leans against me, and I kiss her sweet temple. But even as she smiles and thanks us, the echo of grief is obvious beneath the joy.
A lifetime doesn’t undo itself in a single night.
And I silently and fiercely swear that I will work hard to loosen the noose of hurt that encircles her.
She’s more than just our mate. She’s our future, and all our happiness depends on her.
