“Are the High Kings as hot as their picture in the Council book?” Dasan asked.
“Don’t look at me, I’m not allowed to answer questions like that without Dra’Kaedan getting pissed at me for saying someone is hot,” Brogan muttered.
Dra’Kaedan rolled his eyes as he leaned against his mate. “Rafe is hotter in person than in any picture. Cameras can’t handle his sexiness. As for High King Skyscraper, you’d have to ask Rafe. All I see when I look at him is a giant pain in the ass.”
“If you weren’t happily mated, I’d wonder if you had a secret crush on Aleksander,” Crispin responded, his grin nearly hidden by the long hair hanging in his face.
“I love you, Crispin, don’t make me set you on fire,” Dra’Kaedan warned.
“But then we could call him Crispy Crispin,” Colburn mused.
“And everyone thinks having a twin is so cool,” Crispin said. “Meanwhile, mine has the worst jokes on record.”
“Gram!” Dasan yelled. “Hurry up, man. I have hot, tall dragons to meet.”
“I feel like you’re implying that I’m not a hot, tall dragon,” Brogan said.
“I’m the only one who thinks you’re hot,” Dra’Kaedan retorted with a sassy smirk. “Get over it.”
To Pyxlevir’s relief, he heard footsteps in the hall. The last thing he wanted to do was stand around while Dra’Kaedan and Brogan had one of their infamous spats. Both men were hot-tempered, and as a teenager, Pyxlevir had finally caught on that their rows were more foreplay than anything else. Given that Pyxlevir was turned on by a man who didn’t want him, he currently had an unhealthy relationship with sexuality and needed no reminders that his lone chance for satisfaction was his own hands.
Gramlithyn stepped into the living room and gave their visitors an awkward wave.
“Hey, Dra’Kaedan. Brogan. How are you?” Gramlithyn offered.
Dra’Kaedan glanced up at Brogan. “Is he kidding right now?”
“Looks serious to me,” Brogan replied with a shrug.
“What the fuck, Gramlithyn?” Dra’Kaedan asked as he charged close to the hybrid. “Do you have any clue how many hugs you owe me? Greet me properly.”
Bending swiftly, Gramlithyn embraced the blond sorcerer. “Sorry, wasn’t sure if…well, my social skills are rusty, I guess.”
“We’ve known you since you were six,” Brogan reminded the hybrid as he took a turn greeting Gramlithyn with a hug. “You don’t have to worry about being awkward with us.”
“Exactly, you have a family full of freaks,” Dra’Kaedan added. “We’ve cornered the market on being awkward.”
“And we like that about ourselves,” Colburn enthused.
“Damn right we do,” Dra’Kaedan said. “Now, are we ready to go? Gramlithyn, are you prepared to be hugged by dozens of enthusiastic people who’ve missed you?”
Gramlithyn nodded, and Pyxlevir swore there was moisture in his eyes, but he wasn’t given the chance to confirm his hunch. Dra’Kaedan herded everyone close, and Pyxlevir had to lower his lashes to avoid dizziness as the Grand Warlock cast a group teleportation spell. The ground beneath Pyxlevir’s feet vanished, but a moment later solid earth rested beneath his shoes again.
Ahead of him were the double entrance doors to D’Vaire. Brogan swung one open and waved them inside. Excited voices reached Pyxlevir’s ears, but as he turned the corner into the double-story great room, he immediately spotted his parents and raced for them. Since deciding between Kalthekor and Aristos didn’t suit Pyxlevir, he wrapped an arm around each of his parents and clung.
“We missed you,” Kalthekor said, kissing Pyxlevir’s temple. It didn’t matter that they worked in the same building and often crossed paths as they went about their days; Pyxlevir had never envisioned himself living anywhere but with those closest to him. But things were different now, and Pyxlevir couldn’t make every decision about his future.
“I missed you too,” Pyxlevir responded. If Fate was wrong, he’d slink back to the Centaurus mansion with a broken heart. But if Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir found a way to coexist, they would have to agree where to live as a couple. How did Gramlithyn envision his future? Would Pyxlevir be expected to pick up stakes and wander around the continent as Gramlithyn had for the past six years?
“Are you okay?” Aristos asked, pulling away and cupping Pyxlevir’s cheek.
“Yes, I’m okay,” Pyxlevir said, though he wasn’t sure of the accuracy of that statement from minute to minute. “I’m relieved to be here, actually. A D’Vaire weekend is exactly what I need right now.”
“Semira was upset earlier when we spoke because Gramlithyn wasn’t coming,” Kalthekor remarked. “How did you convince him to change his mind?”
“It wasn’t me. Apparently, Gramlithyn hadn’t mentioned anything about this weekend to Dasan, and his best friend wanted to come once he learned about it.”
“How are things going at the apartment? Are the five of you getting along?” Aristos asked.
