“Who is Pyxlevir?” Dasan asked.
“An old friend,” Gramlithyn supplied. “We haven’t spoken in six years. Where should we go for dinner?”
Gramlithyn had plans to make before he could approach Pyxlevir. And after everything had been decided, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle being near him again.
But he couldn’t hide forever, and he dearly wanted to see him. In fact, now that they were in the same city again, he was almost desperate to be in a room with Pyxlevir. However, he wasn’t sure his former best friend wanted to be around him. Whether Gramlithyn liked it or not, he’d find out soon enough.
Hopefully, his heart could handle whatever awaited him.
Chapter 8
An entire week had passed since Gramlithyn had returned to Vegas, and Pyxlevir had yet to hear from him. Not that Pyxlevir was surprised. According to Semira, he’d attended a single dinner with his parents and would respond to texts, but that was it. The little boy who’d confided in his folks about everything had been replaced by an aloof stranger. Neither Semira nor Laconifel was pleased, but they were counting on patience to bring him back into the family fold.
To the rest of the D’Vaire clan, Gramlithyn had remained mute. It was as if the child and teenage Gramlithyn who’d run through the halls of D’Vaire and shared secrets in the privacy of Pyxlevir’s room had never existed. Which hurt Pyxlevir immensely, despite his understanding of the situation. Gramlithyn didn’t want a mate and would rather cut off his entire family than entertain a romantic relationship with Pyxlevir.
How the fuck am I not supposed to take that personally?Pyxlevir wondered furiously.
It was Saturday morning. He should be enjoying his weekend instead of thinking about Gramlithyn because the hybrid was for damn sure not wasting his time worrying aboutPyxlevir. From his pocket, his phone beeped, and he welcomed the intrusion.
Pyxlevir pulled the device out and promptly dropped it on the floor as he caught who’d messaged him. The very elf-zebra he’d been fuming about had texted Pyxlevir after six fucking years. As if stuck in a mire, Pyxlevir bent slowly to grab his phone. He stared at the dark screen for countless seconds as his heart thundered in his chest.
What did Gramlithyn want? There was only one way to find out. So, with a trembling hand, Pyxlevir unlocked his device and swiped his finger until he saw the text.
Gramlithyn:Can we talk? Let me know when you’re free, I’d like a few minutes of your time.
That was it. No greeting. No explanation. Just a request for a chat. Pyxlevir’s lips pursed. He had two choices—play coy or rush over to question the man about his stupid decision to disappear for six years. Without giving himself a moment to second-guess what he wanted, Pyxlevir responded.
Pyxlevir:I’m available now. Where would you prefer to meet?
There was an immediate reply from Gramlithyn with his hotel name and room number. Pyxlevir bolted from his suite and nearly rammed into the ruler of the centaurs, Archon Timotheus Centaurus, who was preparing to leave the house to play golf with a couple of dragons and centaurs.
“Are you okay, Pyxlevir?” his uncle asked, his brown gaze concerned as Pyxlevir skirted around him at a dead run.
“Never better, see you later,” Pyxlevir shouted without stopping. He yanked open the door and cringed as it slammed shut behind him. Once he was outside, Pyxlevir debated whether he should drive to the hotel or arrange for a teleport. Deciding time was of the essence, he sent a group text to every sorcerer he knew with the ability to teleport.
Grand Warlock Dra’Kaedan D’Vaire was the first to reply, assuring Pyxlevir he was on his way. True to his word, Dra’Kaedan and his mate, Grand Duke Brogan D’Vairedraconis, shimmered into view on the front porch inches from where Pyxlevir stood.
“Fuck,” Dra’Kaedan shouted as Brogan let out a tiny shriek. “You scared me, Pyx.”
“Why aren’t you inside?” Brogan demanded, towering above Pyxlevir with his navy gaze narrowed. “Should you be out here by yourself?”
Dra’Kaedan rolled his eyes dramatically. “He’s not a child. Where do you need to go?”
“Hotel Draconis,” Pyxlevir replied as he accepted a hug from the warlock and stretched his short limbs to embrace the tall dragon shifter.
“Why are you going there, and who are you meeting?” Brogan asked. The Grand Duke oversaw security at the High Court of D’Vaire and took his job extremely seriously.
“Gramlithyn texted me.”
Dra’Kaedan’s mouth dropped open. “Let’s get you there, then.”
Letting his lashes slip closed, Pyxlevir stood still as the ground disappeared beneath his silk slip-ons and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him until now to think about what he had on. He was seeing his mate for the first time in six years, so he should at least look his best. But Pyxlevir reminded himself that Gramlithyn’s opinion of his clothes didn’t matter, and it wasn’t like he had ugly things.
Once there was firm ground beneath him, Pyxlevir opened his eyes.
“We’re going with you,” Brogan insisted.
“No, we aren’t,” Dra’Kaedan retorted. “Text or call when you need to get back home. Run so I can teleport this dragon home.”
