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Uriel was not looking at the pickup line when he sipped his ginger ale. Once was more than enough.

Bruiser cuddled Uriel against himself. “It’s my fault that you’re pregnant. Tell me what you need, and I’ll do everything I can to make things more comfortable for you.”

“It was my magic that ripped the condom.”

“Are we going to split hairs now?” Bruiser asked dryly.

“No,” Uriel decided. “I want to be pampered.”

“Good.”

“You could show me your hoard.”

Bruiser sighed. “It’s not complete yet, but I guess I could.”

“Is a hoard ever complete? I really want to see what five-year-old you thought was so important.”

Bruiser turned pink. “I buried it deeply, but it’s still there. Guess it’s time for a look.”

He scooped Cassie up with a whoop. Cassie squealed and kicked her little feet, and Bruiser placed her in the cart with her toys. Then he brought Uriel and Cassie to the steel doors that sealed away one wing of the mansion. Bruiser gestured at the black scanner next to the doors.

“You’ve keyed me in already?” Uriel asked, shocked.

Bruiser shot him a dry look. “Yes. I’m courting you, remember?”

Uriel always blushed whenever he remembered. He still didn’t think of himself as attractive, as desirable, but Bruiser believed in him so firmly that sometimes it stole his breath away.

He pressed his hand to the scanner pad, and the doors slid open with a hiss. “Shouldn’t there be better security than my handprint?”

“It’s also activated by fire,” Bruiser said. “Watch.”

He waited until the doors had sealed back up, before breathing a long, narrow plume of fire on the sensor. The hottest blue at first, then white flames, then a cool orange, before it ramped up back to blue. Bruiser stopped. The doors hissed open again.

“That’s actually really cool,” Uriel admitted.

Bruiser grinned boyishly. Cassie wriggled and shifted into a dragonet, puffing out little balls of smoke.

“Oh hon,” Uriel said, scooping her into his arms.

“Shoo, get in before the doors close again.” Bruiser waved him through and brought Cassie along.

Uriel stared.

Bruiser’s hoard was a vast room that spanned two floors—most things were on the ground level, and the second floor was made up of bookshelves lining the walls, reachable by a walkway on that level. The reason for the high ceiling was suspended in the middle of the space: an old propeller plane, restored and polished to a shine.

“I learned to fly on that plane,” Bruiser said proudly. “When I was but a young dragon.”

“That’s really cool,” Uriel said. “But you weren’t five years old, were you?”

Bruiser snorted. “Such high expectations.”

“I don’t know,” Uriel said dryly. “My parents told me I had cousins who had five paying jobs when they were eight, and other cousins who graduated college when they were fourteen. Flying a plane as an adult seems... normal.”

Bruiser rolled his eyes. “Sounds like they were lying to you. Do you want to see the oldest things in my hoard, or not?”

“I guess I will,” Uriel said, grinning as he followed Bruiser to one corner, past antique stand mixers, miniature car models, and piles of gold. Here, Bruiser’s treasures were heaped onto several shelves. Uriel spied a few spindly metal objects, some glowing hourglasses, and a few street signs.

“Here,” Bruiser said, stopping in front of one shelf, suddenly embarrassed. He swept aside piles of gold coins and stepped away.