“Mawnin’,” Elouan drawled in the Southern accent he’d gained since moving to this place called North Carolina. He collapsed onto a barstool at the island separating the kitchen from what should be a dining area, long ago turned into a home gym. The “Kiss the Cook” cooking-themed wallpaper clashed horribly with the photos of buff men printed from the internet and taped to the walls for inspiration.
As an omega half-dragon, Curtis stood little chance of bulking up to the extent of the men on the pages. Still, Elouan couldn’t fault the guy for trying.
Elouan worked out regularly, though his human body required much more effort than his other form. Whenever he got the opportunity to shift, he’d want the necessary muscles for flying.
“Coffee’s almost ready,” Curtis chirped. Then he said the three little words Elouan longed to hear: “I’ll make breakfast.”
Yes, there were reasons to tolerate a morning-person roommate.
“Shouldn’t I be making you breakfast? It’s your birthday, after all.”
“That was yesterday, and as I’ve seen your cooking, let’s just say I don’t mind putting my skills to use.” Curtis grew serious for a moment. “Thank you for last night. Mom said the party was your idea.”
“What are friends for?” It was nice to see Curtis being the center of attention.
Omegas were driven to serve in Adrakus. Even with only one dragon parent and never having been to the dragon realm, the ingrained omega desire got the better of Curtis occasionally.
Okay, most of the time. Sometimes Elouan liked to bring him out of his shell. He deserved attention, especially on his birthday.
Curtis would make an alpha dragon—or human—really happy one day. As long as the prospective mate considered six fucking a.m. to be a decent hour to be awake. Even Elouan’s dragon wasn’t awake yet.
At least Curtis had turned the ever-present heavy metal music down to mere background noise. Twisted Sister sang about not taking it. Well, neither would Elouan, not at loud volumes anyway.
He far preferred classical music, which reminded him of his court’s string quartet, but he didn’t tell too many people. The country-music-loving crowd he worked with gave him grief after hearing what came from his truck speakers one day. Now he explored different musical genres, in part through Curtis’s influence.
“Thanks, man. Breakfast would be outstanding.” Elouan tuned out the morning commentary about the weather, the news headlines, and gossip about people Elouan might or might not know, dedicating himself to consuming the three-egg omelet Curtis slid across the bar, complete with ham and cheese. “You don’t have to wait on me, you know,” Elouan protested, though there were worse things the guy could do. Even a weak protest assuaged some of Elouan’s guilt.
He'd never given much thought to omegas who’d served at the castle, nor to those who raised crops and livestock outside of the town walls. Were they happy with their lot in life? Did they long for more? Want to punch arrogant alphas in the face? Anrai seemed content, except for the very real threat of making a political match instead of choosing a mate of his own. What if he didn’t want an alpha at all?
Traditions became outdated when no longer needed. Anrai should be allowed a beta, or even another omega if he chose. Or even no mate at all. Every court member should be free to decide for themselves. If Elouan ever wore the crown, he’d make such decisions possible for his brother and all other omegas. Too bad none of his fantasy future decisions helped Curtis.
If he wore the crown? Who was Elouan kidding?
Curtis’s cheeks flushed pink. “I know it weirds you out when I act like a servant, but I grew up seeing Dad wait on Mom, and, well, it makes him happy. Mom tries to help, but he gets upset if she does.” He whispered from behind his hand, “And Mom’s domestic skills leave a lot to be desired.”
Happy to serve.The omega creed. Especially when faced with an alpha of the royal line. Not that Elouan told anyone about the royal line part. Here, he was just another man in a human world, pretending he didn’t grow wings, bless a fire goddess, or need a wood fire to toast marshmallows. “As long as the alpha doesn’t take advantage.” He’d never seen an alpha who didn’t adore their omega, but how many omegas did he actually know? Then again, Teron told tales of his father’s total disregard for Teron’s mother. Being king would mean looking out for all the people. That included half-dragons, if any ever found their way to court.
“Do you try to take advantage of me?” Curtis asked.
“No.”I hope not.“You’re my friend, not my servant. Does it makeyouhappy?” Elouan forced traces of a smile to take the sting from the words. This early in the morning, before coffee, full smiles weren’t even an option.
Curtis beamed, hurrying to the coffeepot with two cups in hand. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t do it.” The coffeepot burbled out one last gasp. Curtis promptly filled Elouan’s thermos with the hot brew, as well as the two cups. He passed one to Elouan.
“I hope you know I appreciate your efforts, but they aren't required.” Even so…coffee! No one made better coffee than Curtis.
“Thank you, Alp…”
Elouan cut Curtis off with a scowl. And here he thought they were making progress. “I’m merely Elouan. No more or less.” He took a sip of coffee from the cup Curtis handed him. “I appreciate you beyond words for helping me navigate this human world and finding me suitable work.” Rehashing old conversations beat trying to come up with something new this early in the morning.
Curtis gave Elouan a sly look, bringing to mind some of the court’s bolder admirers. “The dragons in this world are willing to pay tribute since we have so few alphas and you’re the highest-ranking. You don’t have to work, you know. You could form your own court here in Asheville.”
Maybe rehashing old topics wasn’t such a good idea after all. This wasn’t Adrakus. Here, dragons obeyed local human laws and didn’t need their own council. “I’m just another human,” Elouan reminded Curtis for the millionth time. He’d not intended for anyone to know of his father having been a king, and Elouan was a common enough name back home that no one should immediately connect the name Elouan Aaron to Elouan Thorne. Somehow, word must’ve gotten out. Why Sakaris insisted on keeping the given name was anyone's guess. Who knew the minds of mages?
Curtis likely shared the information. Great guy. Discreet? Not so much. How he’d found out he’d never told, just let “Your Highness” slip one day.
“If you say so.” Curtis polished off a bite of toast, then donned the backpack he’d left on the floor. “I have classes all morning, then I’m hanging out with friends, so I won’t be home until late.”
“Be safe.” Elouan rose and pressed his face into Curtis’s hair in farewell, snuffling his scent. This they did in private, having to remind themselves not to display their dragon natures in public. How much of Elouan’s scent did Curtis actually get? Could he tell emotions, state of health? Elouan caught a whiff of sadness. Why? What was Curtis sad about?
