“I…I didn’t, really. My dragon did. I’m sorry I bit you without asking first.” Would Elouan hate him now? One purring dragon said no.
“If it wasn’t what my dragon and I both wanted, we wouldn’t have let you.” Elouan reassured Jules with a kiss. “My dragon actually wonders what took us so long. He’s questioned my intelligence on more than one occasion since I met you.”
They lay together silently for a while. “Would you let me tell Moira and Radomir first before I introduce you? I want to break the news gently. Or as gently as I can.” Would they be happy, or angry? Though Jules’s dragon didn’t like the idea of being separated even for a moment, the human part of him persevered.
“Yes. I don’t want to get started on the wrong foot with them, though I believe they’d have had choice words for me back in the mountains.” Elouan snorted. “Rockies, my ass.”
Jules chuckled. “Sorry. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say. I’m so used to lying, deflecting, anything to keep other dragons from knowing about us.”
“Well, I know exactly what to say.” Elouan turned them and gazed down at Jules. “I love you, Jules Carter. Or should I call you Prince Jules Craigh?”
Jules wrinkled his nose. “All my life I’ve only been plain old Jules Carter. It’ll be strange getting used to a new name.”
“How about Thorne?”
“Your name?”
“Our name, if you want. Yes, I went by the name Prince Elouan Thorne of High Reaches. Never have I felt such pride in claiming my birthright, though I suppose I’m not a prince now.”
“Neither am I.” Elouan Thorne. Jules’s mate. And a prince. Surely Moira and Radomir would approve, wouldn’t they? Even if Donovan hadn't handpicked Elouan. “I love you, too, Elouan Thorne. Or Elouan Aaron. Whichever you prefer.”
Shadows lengthened across the floor. Elouan rose, pulling Jules to his feet. “Enough talk for now. I need to get you home, where you can speak to your guardians.”
They took turns in the bath before climbing into the truck, then held hands on the way to Jules’s house. Elouan kissed him soundly. “Let me know when I can come meet them. I can’t wait to give my thanks to the two who’ve watched over you all these years.”
“I’ll tell them as soon as I get in the door,” Jules assured him.
Elouan waited until Jules climbed the steps to his house and waved before driving away into the night.
What about Moira and Radomir? Jules owed them so much. They’d devoted years of their lives to keeping him safe, and now he’d gone behind their backs.
But it was his life. Whatever destiny they’d hoped for likely wasn’t happening. Was he to spend his entire life isolating himself for someone else’s plans? Even if they spoke the truth, was isolation any way to learn how to be an alpha’s mate? Wouldn't they expect him to interact with his mate's court?
Chills ran down his spine. What if the mate his brother intended for him planned to keep Jules isolated, too? Bringing him out like the good silver for guests and then putting him back on the shelf?
No, he might be an omega, but in the absence of his brother, Jules’s word should count for something. He didn’t want someday—he wanted now, and he wanted Elouan.
He absently rubbed the bite on his neck.
He’d march right into the house, sit down with Moira and Radomir, and tell them. They might not like what he said, but he’d decided. They were never to call him Prince Jules again. He’d be Jules, make friends at school, graduate, and work in his chosen field with everything he ever wanted here; he didn’t need an alpha dragon.
He already had one.
No porch light chased back the darkness, and no lights shone in the windows. How strange. Moira usually waited for Jules with a light on. Had she somehow figured out what he’d done today, showing her ire in a passive-aggressive manner? Not her style. She’d always been direct.
Jules stood on the porch, eyeing the partially opened door. Also strange. Moira kept the door locked, and the housekeeper didn’t work on Saturdays. Fight or flight instincts shortened his breath while sending Jules’s heartbeat racing.
He took a deep, cleansing breath and pushed the door open. "Moira? Radomir?" He stumbled in the entryway, barely catching himself against the wall. A few seconds of patting let him find the light switch. He flicked on the lights, then stared down….
Into Radomir's sightless eyes.
He bit back a scream. Oh, Goddess, no! This couldn’t be happening. No, no, no. Jules collapsed onto his knees. “Radomir! Please talk to me, please! I’ll never go out again. I’ll listen to everything you and Moira say! Just please, please, please be okay!” No pulse flickered under the shaking fingers he placed against Radomir’s neck. His skin felt cold and clammy.
Jules sucked in a breath. Dead. Radomir, the only father he’d ever known. Only then did he notice blood spreading out around the body. Blood he’d inadvertently kneeled in.
"Moira?" he yelled, rising and backing away from the apparition on the floor. A gurgling noise came from the kitchen. Jules ran.
Moira lay in another pool of blood on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the remnants of a lasagna, pots, and pans. The kitchen table lay on its side, surrounded by shards of broken wood from what must’ve been the chairs. She'd been preparing dinner and obviously fought. A knife protruded from her chest.
