“We’re not known for our social tendencies.”
“No.” Theo leaned back, arms crossing. “You’re known for being solitary, territorial, and unpredictable. So you’ll understand why we’re curious about what brought you here. And why you’re staying.”
It was a fair question. A reasonable one, even. Aero had been asked variations of it in every community he’d visited.
He gave his standard response. “The Continental Shifter Council has commissioned a comprehensive study of the mating surge phenomenon. Haven Shores represents the most significant surge activity we’ve documented in eighteen months of research. The data potential alone justifies an extended presence.”
Silence. The kind that suggested his answer had been insufficient.
“That,” said a new voice, rich with amusement, “is the most carefully rehearsed non-answer I’ve heard since the last time I had to deal with Continental Council politics.”
The speaker was lion. Aero could tell by the lazy grace of his movements, the golden undertones in his dark hair, the predatory gleam behind civilized eyes. He sat at the far end of the booth with the easy confidence of someone who owned half the world and was merely tolerating the other half’s existence.
“Leo Castellan.” The lion offered a smile that was all teeth. “Junie’s mate. I believe you’ve met the witch contingent already.”
“Briefly.” Aero remembered red curls and sharp grins and the distinct impression that the chaos witch had been cataloging him for future reference. “Your mate is… memorable.”
“She’d say the same about you. She sent me with a list of questions, actually.” Leo pulled out his phone, scrolling. “Let’s see. Why do dragons hoard things? Can you actually breathe fire or is that a myth? If you mated a witch, would the babies be dragons or would they?—”
“Leo.” Theo’s voice carried a warning.
“Fine, fine.” Leo tucked the phone away, but his smile didn’t fade. “I’ll save the interrogation for later. But you should know—we protect our own here. Cassia is part of that. Whatever your research involves, it doesn’t involve hurting her.”
“I have no intention of hurting anyone.”
“Good.” Leo’s eyes held his for a long moment. Something passed between them—recognition, maybe. One predator acknowledging another. “Then we shouldn’t have any problems.”
ELEVEN
AERO
The next hour was an exercise in endurance.
Aero answered questions about his research. About dragon culture. About the Continental Council’s interest in Haven Shores. He kept his responses precise, factual, devoid of anything that might be mistaken for personal information. It was the same approach he’d used for centuries—maintain distance, provide data, avoid attachment.
Delos, meanwhile, had become everyone’s new best friend.
“—and then he tried to analyze the phenomenon.” Delos was three beers in and thoroughly enjoying himself, regaling the table with stories Aero would have preferred stayed buried. “I’m not kidding. He made a spreadsheet. Columns for sensory input, emotional response, physiological effects. Like mate recognition is something you can graph.”
“That’s not—” Aero started.
“It’s exactly what happened.” Delos grinned at him. “I found the spreadsheet. It had color coding.”
The wolf sitting beside Delos—Beck, Aero had learned, the pack beta—laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his beer. He was younger than the alphas, sandy-haired and easy-smiling,with the kind of open friendliness that made people trust him instantly.
“Color coding.” Beck wiped his eyes. “Please tell me there were formulas. I need there to be formulas.”
“Multiple regression analysis,” Delos confirmed. “He was trying to determine if the response intensity correlated with lunar cycles.”
“Did it?”
“No. Because mate recognition isn’t affected by the moon. It’s affected by the mate.” Delos shot Aero a significant look. “Which he refuses to accept.”
“The data was inconclusive,” Aero said stiffly.
“The data was irrelevant. You can’t quantify feelings.”
“Everything can be quantified with sufficient methodology.”
