Gramlithyn chuckled. “I may have texted Jeremiah a few years ago. He drew the dragon, and his tattoo artist friend did the work. His friend also did the vines and flowers.” There was a third tattoo of an elven gargoyle, but it was hidden by his shirt sleeve, so Gramlithyn didn’t mention it.
Magister Duke Jeremiah D’Vairedraconis was a renowned artist and had a tattoo artist friend, Eric, who’d inked Jeremiah’s skin along with aiding other family members through the years. Gramlithyn wanted his work to be exceptional, and he wasn’t disappointed with a single drop of his ink.
“Excellent choice,” his father said. “They are remarkable.”
“Yes, and they suit you. Now, let’s go help these shifters pick out something Dasan and I actually want to eat,” Semira added.
Happy to avoid any other thorny moments with his parents, Gramlithyn was thrilled to leave his room and eat dinner, even if it was with a house full of men likely pissed at him for convincing their children to move out of their family homes.
Chapter 12
The apartment was eerily silent as Dasan Calypte crept down the hall. It wasn’t in his nature to be quiet or use caution any longer, but he was a hummingbird on a mission. His head was also spinning. Since being apprehended by the fallen knights, Dasan’s life had changed dramatically.
He had a new government to learn about and a future to figure out, but most importantly, he’d gone from cheap hotel rooms to a swanky apartment. However, the furnishings made little difference to Dasan. He’d grown up privileged, and he’d easily left it behind. In fact, he barely recalled those days.
His nose scrunched as a plague of old memories filled his mind. Dasan tugged out the magnets he always kept in his pocket and rolled them between his fingers. In front of him was a closed door, and he couldn’t focus on his next task if he was being pummeled by the past. His former life didn’t matter.
With no remorse, he’d changed his name and set out on his own. Now he had a best friend, and he’d assigned himself a purpose. The thought made him grin, and Dasan squared his shoulders as he knocked on the door. His gaze flicked from one end of the hall to the other. If Gram knew what he was up to, he might not approve, and Dasan didn’t want to piss off his pal.
The door opened to reveal a gargoyle-cougar hybrid with light yellow-green eyes that offered Dasan no hint as to whether the tall Colburn was a friend or foe.
“Hey, can I talk to you and your twin for a sec?” Dasan asked, bouncing from one sneaker to another. At five-three, Dasan was used to looking up at people, but he swore nearly everyone Gram knew was a freaking giant.
“Now?” Colburn asked. It was late, and everyone had retired for the night. In fact, Colburn was already wearing some bright-ass pajamas with cute little worms on them. “It’s late.”
“Duh, we need some privacy for this. Let me in?”
With a shrug, Colburn stepped out of the doorway, and Dasan barreled into the room. Crispin was already tucked under his covers and had a book in his hands.
“Hey,” Dasan said with an awkward wave. “Sorry for barging in on you guys, but I wanted to talk to you both.”
Crispin closed his book and set it on the table between his and Colburn’s wide beds. “If you’re here to convince us to be close friends with Gramlithyn again, save your breath. He needs to approach us directly, not send his new bestie over to do his dirty work.”
Dasan scoffed. “Please, that’s his problem. I’m here on my own mission, dude. You guys are mad. I can tell that, and I don’t even know you. But I can’t explain anything about what happened because I wasn’t there and I’m trying to figure stuff out as I go. Gram didn’t tell me about any of this shit.”
“How can you guys be close friends if you don’t know his past?” Colburn asked as he settled on his bedspread.
As was Dasan’s habit, he paced. He shared his soul with an active bird. His little beast was a ray of sunshine in Dasan’s life—a calm, steady presence that soothed him daily—but he was also energetic. If Dasan was awake, he was moving.
“Easy, dude. Not everyone wants to talk about history,” Dasan countered. “We’re worried about the present. The years before we met weren’t important.”
The twins shared a skeptical look, but Dasan would not explain further. He’d easily accepted Gram’s choice not to mention where he’d come from or what he’d left behind because Dasan was unwilling to discuss his own past.
“So, if Gramlithyn didn’t send you to our room, why are you here?” Colburn asked.
“My head’s been spinning,” Dasan revealed. “You both are probably experiencing the same thing. You were shocked when Gram and Pyxlevir told us they were mates. Oh, and we were all moving into this place together. Now, I’m not getting in the middle of shit. Gram and Pyxlevir obviously have stuff they need to discuss. It’s really not my business. But here’s the thing…have you ever had, like, a voice inside you that you trust?”
“We’re shifters with two separate beasts,” Colburn mused. “Yeah, there are always powerful voices in my head.”
“Wow,” Dasan exclaimed, his feet faltering so he nearly face-planted. “I knew you were hybrids, but are you telling me you can shift into two different animals?”
“Yep. We have cougars and gargoyles,” Colburn replied with a proud grin.
“For fuck’s sake, that’s the coolest shit I’ve ever heard. I’m so jealous.” Dasan shook his head to clear it and resumed his pacing. “Okay. I need to see both of your beasts for sure. Or should it be two beasts of you both? I don’t know. Not the point right now, but seriously, everything I’ve learned in the past couple of days is stretching my gray matter. Can heads explode from too much information? Like, if it’s all good shit and you get excited? But anyway, I trust my gut. What my soul is telling me right now is that Fate can be trusted.”
“With you so far,” Crispin said, his hand moving in ago ongesture.
“Something is telling me this Gram and Pyxlevir thing could work out. I don’t know why. I know nothing about Pyxlevir except that he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. It’s weird. I look at magazines and see gorgeous people, but it’s lighting, make-up, and all that stuff to make them appear their best. But Pyxlevir is real. That probably doesn’t make sense, but Gram is a lucky dude, that’s what I’m saying. You guys are close to Pyxlevir, and shit is weird, but they agreed to give this a fair shot. I want to make sure they get that. Not that I want to interfere, but if I can disappear from a room or something to give them ample opportunity to talk or whatever, I’m going to do it.”
