“I suppose so. Aunt Moira says I’m good, but she’s supposed to say that, right?” There came the affection again. Moira sounded like a mother figure, especially if she’d raised Jules and he didn’t remember his parents.
“Does she lie to you often?”
Jules jerked, whipping his head toward Elouan. “What? No! Never.”
Elouan let a lazy smile bloom to life, feeling the most relaxed he’d been in days. “There’s your answer.” Maybe Aunt Moira wasn’t so bad after all. Elouan wished he could say the same for his own aunt. How would Moira feel about Elouan if they ever got to meet?
“What?” The truth dawned on Jules’s face. He gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right. For all her overprotectiveness, she dotes on me, though. She used to be a warrior.” Jules froze for a moment before blurting, “I mean, she’s retired military.” A pink tinge raced up his neck, darkening his face and ears. He must be uncomfortable with the topic. Maybe PTSD drove Moira’s protectiveness. They had different wording for it in Adrakus, but Elouan wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept when he'd first met human soldiers. Wars and conflicts left their mark.
Elouan took a sip of his drink to buy time and steer the conversation to safer skies. “Of course I’m right. I’m old and I’m wise.”
“You’re not that old.” Jules bumped Elouan’s shoulder, full lips curling at the edges.
How could such a simple gesture warm Elouan clear down to his toes? He placed his drink on the ground and lay back, stretching out on the blanket, staring at the sky, adding a little distance before he tried to kiss Jules’s radiant smile.
Jules joined him a moment later, rolling to his side and propping his head on one arm. “Enough about me. I’m boring. Tell me about you.”
Elouan’s good mood fell. In no way could he tell Jules about his life before three years ago. He shrugged, hoping the gesture came across as casual, not panicked. “Not much to tell.” Or much hecouldtell. Time to take the easy way out. “What do you want to know?”
“Parents? Brothers and sisters?”
Or maybe not the easy way. Elouan gave a hard swallow. “My mother died about ten years ago, and my father died three years ago, right before I moved here.”
Jules slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
Elouan aimed for nonchalant, probably missing by a mile. “Don’t be. They were great parents.” He missed them terribly, sometimes so badly he could hardly breathe.
“Is that why you moved here? Your father, I mean?”
Truthfully? “Yes. I needed to get away.” Creative use of the truth, but a fact nonetheless. “I have two brothers who also left around the same time. I’ve been looking, but I don’t know where they are.” Should he tell the whole truth? “Someone murdered my father, and the murderer is still at large. One of Father’s dear friends thought it best if we split up. He said once the danger is past, he’ll send for us and we can go home.”
“That sucks. I always wanted to know my parents. But to have them and lose them? Same with the brothers.”
Elouan knew all about giving up hope. He came closer and closer every day. “I’d love to hear you play your violin sometimes. If you don’t mind.”
Aaaannd…the blush returned. “I’m not that good.”
“Moira says you are. I think she knows what she’s talking about.”
“You don’t even know her.” If Jules blushed any brighter, his face might ignite.
“She’s got to be someone special because she raised you.” If she and her husband raised Jules, they’d done a great job.
Jules rolled onto his back. “She is.” A puzzled frown furrowed his brow.
“What is it?” Elouan asked.
Jules sat up, digging under the blanket and coming back with a stone the size of his thumb. “Wow! Rose quartz!” He held out his palm with the stone in the center.
“You like rock hunting?”
“Yeah. I know some people don’t think quartz is valuable, but I’ve always thought it beautiful. I’ve got a few specimens at home, but no rose quartz.” He slipped the stone into his jeans pocket and lay back down, wriggling his shoulders against the blanket. “Ah, that’s better.”
Now came Elouan’s turn to lie on his side, gazing down at Jules. Jules’s slender body called to him. What did he hide beneath his jeans and t-shirt? Elouan’s own body responded, urging him to take this man into his arms, press their bodies close, find out how good those full lips felt. No. Too soon. Jules wasn’t a short-term conquest. For once, Elouan wanted to experience the anticipation he’d heard others speak of.
His dragon was totally on board with the pressing of bodies.
Elouan willed his body to behave—for now. The part connecting him to his dragon grumbled. He deflected, “It’s amazing how much we have in common. We both don’t have parents in our lives, have no contact with our brothers, like the wind in our faces, coffee-shop pastries, have an interest in constructing tall buildings, think alley-prowling thugs are the worst, and think Moira is pretty outstanding.” Elouan put on his best serious expression. “Relationships have been built on less.” He had, in fact, seen many relationships over the yearsbuilt on far less. Like arrangements by meddling parents. Wait! Relationship? Please let him not have scared Jules away by moving too quickly.
