Father shifted Nula to his other arm and offered his hand to Whisper again who took it in both his hands with a nod of thanks.
“Now, so there’s no miscommunication again. I am Malkim. You’re Whisper?” Father let Whisper hold his hand, and I knew the reason for it. Father was reading him with his magic, a shameless thing.
Whisper nodded, his cheeks pinkening.
Father’s lips twisted, brows furrowed, and he broke out into boisterous laughter. “So, this is the question you had for me? Not where I am from, not any curiosity like that?”
Whisper tilted his head in his questioning posture.
“Because I do not have hair on my head. That is why my head is shiny. It fell out when I was a child and never grew back.” The dragons of my father’s homeland, what currently was Senegal, their human forms did not have head hair, not in the men or women. “It is how the dragons of my homeland are. Now, why are you so white and your hair so choppy?”
I flinched and gave Father a menacing glance that he pointedly ignored. Baba, heavily interested in the goings on, watched Whisper with a half smile.
Whisper politely pulled away and scribbled.
“Mind reading? In a way. I can sense intent only if I am holding your hands, little cat.” Father leaned his head to the side and nudged Baba affectionately.
Whisper scribbled another note. My curiosity piqued, I leaned over to read.Albino. Throwback. Alpha’s mate chopped my hair. Too tangled.
“Well, all the best you came in so dirty. Likely the only thing keeping you from getting lice or fleas.” Father fumbled as Nula clawed at his arm and leapt for Whisper, his little black-and-white body flecked dalmatian-like with child spots as he made little swipes to steal Whisper’s pen.
Whisper let loose a shocked gasp, and Brae laughed until Nula’s mouth opened, nose flared, and he sneezed, blowing a concentrated spit of fire at Whisper’s face.
“No!” I lurched forward, Baba faster than me as he snatched Nula away and I turned the startled male in my arms, looking for burns or damage. Nula had destroyed his fair share of furniture and clothing since his hatching, and Malkim had healing magic at the ready over his graceful hands, but it wasn’t necessary. Not even a curl to his hair. A smattering of soot filthied his newly cleaned face, and I ushered him away to wet a paper towel in the sink nearby and daub at his strange freckles.
The soot came off with barely a wipe, and his new shirt was ruined, but he didn’t even have a raw spot, not even a sunburn.
“What the?” I checked him over, and he held up his notepad, eyes darting around for his pen.
Baba handed it over, dripping with saliva that Whisper paid no mind as he scribbled.Every shifter gets a talent. I don’t burn none. It’s why I wasn’t afraid of you.
“Malkim?” Baba’s singsong voice made my father grin.
“Welcome to your new home, little one.” Brae strode over and rested a hand on Whisper’s head. He leaned down to whisper into his ear, his crimson hair a stark contrast toWhisper’s white. I missed whatever few words he said to make Whisper’s eyes widen and cheeks flame crimson. He stroked Whisper’s pale locks and rested his great hand on his shoulder. My dragon preened at members of my flight touching him, accepting him so kindly. “Both of you go get some rest. You need to be up bright and early to spend time with Nula and Aster.”
“Why Nula and Aster?” My clan leader stared me down, face as neutral and tired as a new father should have been. His commanding Whisper to spend time with his mate and child was concerning; after all, he didn’t know the male.
“A fireproof babysitter. I’m taking advantage of this as much as possible. He’ll need to learn how to wrangle young.” Brae grinned, his pronounced canines glinting as their hatchling leaped into his arms once more.
I frowned as Brae left, and Atkin excused himself. I turned to my father and Baba only to earn polite smiles and a shooing gesture. Baba spoke, his face a beacon of delight. “Go on, baby. Get settled in.”
My treasure had a place in my hoard, and my dragon purred as I thought of possibilities for the male, atop my coins, or maybe amid my jewel cases, or even in my sand nest… I needed to change the sand in it. I flamed in my sleep so often, the scattered particles had become glass and hard. But for that night, he’d do well on a futon by my fireplace, keeping him warm and visible as a beautiful shining treasure.
Chapter Six
Whisper
Marcus didn’t like to talk much. It was fine. He communicated with gestures and huffs, which was fine by me. If I didn’t have to respond, all the better.
Part of my struggle with mouthing words, or even whispering as my name suggested, was that I’d never learned to talk good in the first place. I could make the base consonants and knew mouth shapes to make, but that was it.
When we navigated the maze of halls to arrive at a port door that he pried open with a little shame in his expression, I marveled at the expansive room.
It was rather like a network of caves, carved into stone itself. Raw stone beams lined the ceiling in places, supporting work that had been flamed over, stone melted like they’d used dragon fire to weld things stable. Dirty laundry lay scattered about, a trash can tipped to the side with a rather shameful amount of tissues spilling free of it. He scurried away to hide it and bag it up quickly, like I didn’t know what he’d used those tissues for. It wasn’t shameful. Everyone did it. Hell, I’d let him do it in or on me if he wanted. When he wanted. I saw the looks he gave me.
He had plans for my body, and I found myself not hating it. He’d be warm and I could shower after. I hoped he gave me money to go grocery shopping after, though.
He handed me a long plaid shirt that smelled like him, and I removed the burned remnants of the shirt I’d only recently been given. I mouthed an apology that he shrugged off before tossing the shirt with his dirty tissues. Like a new shirt was nothing. He sniffed me as he neared, and something inside me, my inner voice, the kitty I never would be, purred.
