Not in the plan. “Ah, c’mon. It’ll only take a minute.” The “minute” had taken a full week’s planning.
Curtis let out a put-upon sigh. “Okay. If you insist.”
Elouan led the way to the second-level balcony, then jumped aside to give Curtis a better view.
“Happy Birthday!” a group of nearly two-dozen cried out, including Curtis’s parents.
Curtis stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.
Elouan wrapped him in a hug. “Happy Birthday, buddy.”
The smile on Curtis’s face made the effort worthwhile.
A shrill wail jolted Elouan awake. What? Where? The fuck? Where was he? Where the hell was his sword?
The shrieking started making sense. He swatted at the alarm clock with one hand, clutching his wildly pounding heart with the other. Another dream of home, his brothers in danger—him powerless to help. The details dissipated like smoke through a fist, leaving only longing and sorrow.
He’d left Adrakus. Had no inkling of where Anrai and Daire might be. The little space behind his breastbone, attuned to his family, assured him they still lived. Nothing more.
That’s what he got for drinking on a work night. Bad dreams. Always.
Elouan studied the surrounding room. A curtain. Artificial light shining through the window. The softness beneath him. Bed and blankets instead of furs. Outside, a car horn blared. The third swat silenced the infernal noisemaker. Alarm clocks. A torture Adrakus didn’t have.
Rubbing his eyes didn't clear his vision or remove the dream's remnants from Elouan’s mind. Same. Damn. Dream: Father falling, soldiers cutting down Anrai and Daire, while Uncle Urien laughed.
Elouan’s heart ached for the brothers in his dream. And Goddess knew he missed Teron.
He closed his eyes, reciting, “I’m Elouan Aaron and if I don’t get my lazy ass into gear, I’ll be late for work.” Just five more minutes to indulge in fantasies: going home, confronting his uncle, an epic battle, making things right. Long-range plans. Elouan had ’em.
More immediately, though, his morning wood claimed priority. Yeah, yeah. Someone to fill the empty half of his bed would be nice. Yet, none of the humans he'd met lately compelled him into a second date, let alone bringing them home, wanting them to stay.
Nice to play with for a night, though.
Foolishness. Could he truly be happy with anyone besides another dragon? A feisty omega, or a gentle and sweet one. Or maybe one with a touch of both.
Elouan and his hard dick came to an understanding to images of slick, pale skin, a soft touch, then a more demanding one. Of lifting his omega by the hips, slamming into tight heat. Elouan threw back his head, releasing a growl as the warmth of his cum slid over his fist.
His dragon exulted at the thought of an omega.
Elouan lay back on the bed, sucking in air and letting his heart calm. He’d never have such an experience if he didn’t find an omega. When Father tried to arrange a match, Elouan wasn’t ready. If only he’d listened. No time for regrets now, when he was pretending to be human.
Elouan showered, shaved, and wove his hair into a braid, as he’d done for seasons. No, not seasons. Years. Terrans counted time in years.
No use putting in too much effort when he’d have a hard hat jammed on his head all day. Whoever invented mirrors must’ve liked seeing themselves. Elouan certainly didn’t. His reflection reminded him of family members he ached to see.
He selected a shirt and a pair of jeans at random, then added steel-toed work boots to the ensemble.
Last, he tied a leather thong around his neck, holding what humans might think a dragon claw looked like—the closest he could come to his old amulet. Who’d stolen the one given to him by his mother? He’d woken up in his cell without it. But evenif some thieving guard hadn’t taken the prize, he couldn’t have brought any physical possessions with him through the portal. He’d arrived naked.
May his brothers never find out about him wearing one of Sakaris’s robes.
He spared a fond look at the current novel lying on his nightstand. “Tonight,” he promised. “Then we’ll find out who the killer is.”
Now to go downstairs and meet the day. No stone walls, no stone keep. The walls here were sheetrock. Despite the name, they weren’t actually rock and damaged far too easily. He’d accidentally caused a few holes before learning to navigate a fragile human dwelling. Carpet beneath bare toes felt nice, though, as did hot showers.
He made his way downstairs, lured by the captivating scent of coffee. Coffee. Another thing the dragon world didn’t have. Other than still being Elouan, his new life didn’t much resemble his old one.
“Good morning!” Did Curtis have to be so fucking cheerful at oh-dark-thirty in the morning? His shoulder-length copper hair glowed under the kitchen lights, and his bright blue eyes shone with his usual good mood. He wore an awful hoodie over his shirt in a color Elouan once heard described as acid green, which seemed to be his favorite color. Faded, thank the Goddess. Elouan couldn’t stand much more brightness at this hour.
