by Macy Blake
Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about it as much anymore. Although the flickers never completely stopped, they did slow down. Being in one place seemed to help him. He didn’t understand why until he’d talked to Mama Thea about the guy working the deli counter at the grocery store. The first time he’d gone grocery shopping with her, he’d had a flicker. The guy cutting lunch meat looked like some kind of troll or something, and the girl at the bakery glowed like an angel. But the second time he went, none of them flickered. Well, not on the ones he’d seen before, anyway. That time, the manager’s face shifted into some kind of animal. Not really a wolf, but definitely something furry. After that, she helped him realize that it would only happen the first time he saw someone. Once they were revealed to him, they never flickered for him again.
A week later, she gave him a necklace. She claimed a witch friend created the charm to help with his episodes. The charm didn’t stop the flickers, but they did help him recover from them more quickly and the seizures that accompanied the flickers all but stopped. The implications of that were huge for him. It meant he could go back to school. The first few days at any new place were awful as he flickered every time he saw something other for the first time, but at least he could go out and be part of the world.
He reached a hand up to rub the smooth surface of the new and improved charm Mama Thea gave him when he moved out of the house. She said it would keep him safe when she wasn’t there. Funnily enough, he hadn’t actually experienced one since she gave him the new charm, and he still loved having that piece of her with him. He never took it off.
A year later, the Smiths brought home Nick, and Mikey ended up with an over-protective big brother who snarled at anyone who messed with him for being weird. Three years later, the Smiths brought home Sawyer, the last of their foster children, and Mikey used what Nick taught him and tried to be the best big brother he could to the scared and quiet boy who never really talked much.
He snagged his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Sawyer. His baby brother had just completed his graduate degree in business, but he’d apparently caught a nasty flu which kept him from attending the ceremony. Mikey and Nick had both planned to be there to watch him walk across the stage, and then to take Sawyer out for a celebratory dinner.
Hope you’re feeling better little bro. Tell Draco to get a new video up. He’s been slacking lately.
Mikey pushed aside his memories when the bell went off over the door.
“Be right there,” Mikey called out as he ducked in the back to put the empty scone tray in the sink.
“No rush,” a man replied. It was just a voice, but something in the tenor of it gave Mikey the shivers. He hurried to drop the tray and get back out front.
“How can I help—”
A flicker hit him full-force, the moment he laid eyes on the two gorgeous men walking in the door. One was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Tan skin, dark eyes, black hair, and built like a brick wall. The other was more hipster with a short, well-trimmed beard and man bun. One second later, there was an honest-to-god dragon and a— what the fuck was that? — standing in front of him.
And staring right back at him.
“What are you?” The dragon guy asked.
Mikey couldn’t answer. He’d blacked out.
Asher
“Look, I’m not saying that I hate Rocky Mountain Sky Blue,” Asher growled, his patience past its limit. “I’m saying I don’t see the difference between it and Utah Sky Blue.”
He normally tried to keep his more animalistic noises to himself, especially when walking down a busy street with his mate, but Quillon seemed intent on pushing his buttons today.
“But that is exactly what you just said,” Quillon argued.
Asher rubbed at his temples to ease the headache quickly developing behind his eyes. “Can we talk about this when we get home?”
“Fine. Whatever,” Quillon said as he sped up his pace.
Asher lengthened his stride to keep up. He grabbed Quillon’s arm and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing a group of businessmen to edge around them.
“Quillon, babe, please.”
They’d been going back and forth about this for an hour already. It was getting to the point where they were arguing for the sake of arguing. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Asher didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore. It started with paint colors for the bedroom and escalated to the point where they started accusing each other of not loving one another anymore. He’d almost considered suggesting he move out at one point, and he hated that he’d allowed that thought to cross his mind. He hated himself even more for being unable to keep his mate happy. He took a moment to breathe and tried to let it go.
Finally he looked up at Quillon. “I love you. You know that.”
Quillon sighed, the sound sad and defeated. “I do know. I love you, too. And I don’t really care about what color we pick.”
Asher pulled Quillon into his arms and leaned back against the building. “Goddess, we’re a mess.”
That startled a laugh out of Quillon. “Yeah, we are. I don’t know what’s happening lately.”
“Something has been off. But we’ll figure it out, okay? You’re my mate, and nothing’s going to change that. “
“Me dragon, you mine,” Quillon grumbled in a gruff impression of Asher.
“I am manticore, hear me roar,” Asher replied with a chuckle.
The moment of tension eased, and they both relaxed a bit. Asher looked around to get his bearings, but he didn’t recognize the street. They’d started at the antique store near downtown they’d heard was run by a centaur, but that had turned out to be a bust. And then they started fighting and had wandered for blocks. Nothing was familiar to him. There was a consignment clothing store, a comic book shop, a little coffee shop, and what looked to be a head shop. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee and figure out where the hell we are.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” Quillon nuzzled Asher’s neck before pulling away. The little show of affection helped soothe Asher’s frayed nerves.
The coffee shop was nice. On the small side, but comfortable. Asher imagined it got pretty noisy during peak times, but it was mid-morning by the time they walked in and the only person in the place was the employee who had just turned away from them on his way to the back.
“Be right there,” he called out from behind the swinging door. The sound of his voice made the hair on Asher’s neck stand up. Quillon felt the same thing, judging by the startled look he gave Asher.
“No rush,” Quillon called back.
Asher heard the hollow thunk of an aluminum tray dropping onto the counter and then swift footsteps as the man rushed back to the front of the shop. He was average height and was absolutely breathtaking. Pale skin, with bright blue eyes peering at them through an unruly mop of curly dirty blond hair and an open, friendly smile. Asher’s dragon roared to life the second he laid eyes on him.
“How can I help—”
Everything changed in an instant. His dragon bellowed and rose to the surface, demanding to be let out. Asher lost control in that split second, something he’d never done before in his life, and the shift overtook him. He stood in the center of the coffee shop, his dragon over nine feet long without counting his tail. The little cafe tables in the shop toppled over, but before he could do more damage, Asher sucked in a breath and made the step back into his human form.
Quillon seemed to be having a similar problem with control, but his mate’s shift happened more slowly than Asher’s. He retained his human form even as he rushed around the counter, but even with his quick reflexes, he wasn’t able to stop the young man from hitting the floor. He stared wild-eyed at Asher for a moment, as confused and concerned as Asher himself was over what they’d just experienced.
“Shit. This is bad, Ash. Really bad,” Quillon said as he knelt and carefully checked the man’s pulse. He reached for his chest, tugging the plastic
name tag pinned to his shirt around so he could see the name. “Mikey,” Quillon said as he gently stroked the young man’s cheek. “Mikey, come on and wake up for me.”
Asher could hardly think. His dragon remained close to the surface, clawing at him in a way Asher hadn’t experienced in years. He had exquisite control and had since he was a child. How on earth had this man forced him to change? And in public no less. He’d broken the cardinal rule of their kind. If they revealed themselves to a human, the hellhounds would be sent to take them to hell. But this wasn’t a typical situation, was it? This human— he was something different, something special, and he was obviously hurt.
“Is he going to be okay?” Asher asked.
“I don’t know.”
Asher couldn’t believe how shaken he was. His dragon paced, scratching at him and desperate to be free once more. Asher realized he’d only felt this way once before in his life: the day he’d met Quillon.
“Should I call for help?” Asher asked. His voice was smoky and scratchy from the strain of keeping his dragon side in control.
“No,” Quillon urged. “I’ve got him. He’s coming around.”
Asher’s attention immediately focused on Mikey, his senses tuned in and ready to act if something else happened. Mikey’s eyes fluttered open and he immediately reached up to cup Quillon’s face.
“What are you?” Mikey whispered, his voice filled with wonder, rather than the fear Asher would have expected.
Instead of answering, Quillon continued to hold Mikey’s cheek in his hand. “You fainted.”
“What?” Mikey said, trying to make light of the situation. “Me? Faint? That’s crazy. That hasn’t happened in years. I’m fine.”
The admission did nothing to soothe either man.
Quillon glanced over his shoulder at Asher, as if he expected him to have some sort of comment. Asher was normally able to put things into perspective for him, but this time Asher didn’t have a clue what happened. Normal humans did not randomly fall to the floor when supernatural creatures walked in the door. Most of them had absolutely no idea they were in the presence of anything other.
“You’re not fine,” Asher said. He tried to keep the growly rumble to a minimum, but his dragon was too close to the surface to prevent all of his fear from creeping out. He ended up sounding pissed.
Mikey scooted away from Quillon, which earned Asher a glare from his mate, and tried to sit up.
“No, I’m okay. Really.” Mikey looked around the coffee shop, probably checking to see if there were any witnesses. He gasped when he saw the state of the furniture, then nervously met Asher’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he said.
“You scared the crap out of us,” Quillon said as he helped Mikey sit the rest of the way up. It didn’t escape Asher’s notice that he slipped a hand around Mikey’s shoulders, tucking him in close.
Asher’s dragon paced near the surface again, a burn crawling under his skin crying out MINE and MATE and demanding he touch Mikey immediately, getting him safely between his body and Quillon’s.
“We should get you up,” Asher suggested. “Maybe over to that couch?”
Mikey started to push himself up from the floor, but Quillon stopped him.
“Let me,” Quillon said as he pushed his arms under Mikey and lifted him.
“I can—”
“You just stay still.” Asher ordered, his voice still a low growl. Quillon shot him another look, and he took a deep breath, trying to retain control of his beast.
Mikey raised his hands up in surrender, giving into the inevitable, as Quillon carried him swiftly and carefully across the room. Asher’s eyes blazed, and he imagined pinning those hands down while he plowed into the lithe body in his mate’s arms. Luckily no one was watching him at the time or they would have seen his eyes flare with flames once more, his dragon very happy with the thought.
“I can tell when I’m out-numbered,” Mikey said. Once he was settled, he gave them a puzzled frown before he held out his hand. “I’m Mikey.”
“Asher,” he said quickly taking the opportunity to touch his new mate by shaking Mikey’s hand. “And this is my partner, Quillon.”
Quillon
Quillon couldn’t hide his smug grin when Mikey’s grip went lax in Asher’s hand after he introduced Quillon as his partner. And wasn’t that interesting?
“I’m sorry. Did you say ‘Kill On’?” Mikey asked.
“My name is pronounced that way but it is Quillon, with a Q.” Quillon answered with a smile as he shook Mikey’s hand next. “My parents were fascinated by Latin. It means strong.”
He’d made the explanation a million times in his life, but he loved that this time it allowed him to stay close to Mikey, to continue to hold Mikey’s hand. He took the moment to rub his thumb gently over Mikey’s knuckles.
“At least it’s a name and not an order,” Mikey said with a nervous laugh as he leaned back on the couch.
“Are you sure you’re all right? I still think we should call nine-one-one or something. Take you to the hospital,” Asher said.
“I’m fine. Just a seizure. That’s it. Sadly, I don’t wear this for decoration,” Mikey said with a wiggle of his wrist, calling attention to the silver medical alert bracelet he wore. Concern washed over Quillon, and Asher expression grew alarmed.
“You are ill?” Asher asked.
It came out harsh, but Quillon knew it was born from fear, not disgust or anger. Quillon was near panic himself.
“What? No. Just.” Mikey sighed. “I have epilepsy. Well, sort of. Sometimes I have seizures. It’s not a big deal. It’s not contagious, so you guys don’t have to worry, all right?” He started to push up from the couch.
Both Asher and Quillon started forward and gently pushed Mikey back down, each with a hand on his shoulders. Clearly they’d upset him, hurt his feelings by giving him the wrong impression.
Asher gently squeezed Mikey’s shoulder and stared deeply into their new mate’s beautiful eyes. “We understand about epilepsy and realize of course that we can’t catch it,” he said soothingly. “My— our— concern was only with you. We didn’t want you to try and get up too quickly. Forgive us if our words came out in any way other than worried.”
Mikey searched Asher’s eyes then deflated, his defensiveness and sudden flare of anger dissipating. Quillon could imagine that with his condition he’d seen people recoil over the years. They’d have to prove that he was wrong about them.
“Sorry. I just— I should get back to work.”
“Mikey, you were just unconscious. I think you can take a few minutes to rest.” Quillon gently squeezed Mikey’s shoulder, trying to reassure him with his touch.
“But if a customer—”
“I can ask them if they would mind waiting for a few minutes or I can recommend the daily brew you have so thoughtfully provided over there. What is the aroma? It smells delightful.”
Mikey blushed a little and looked down. “It’s, uh, dreamy creamy salted caramel. Um, would you like some? It’s self serve and the cream and sugar is there if you want and…”
“I’ll get it,” Asher said gently. He walked to the other side of the shop where the large thermoses were set up to dispense plain old coffee. No bells and whistles.
Quillon continued to hold Mikey’s hand and slowly lowered himself to the couch. Mikey couldn’t seem to stop staring at him and the moment lasted until Asher walked back over with a to-go cup filled with coffee. When he handed it to Quillon, Mikey reached out to touch Asher’s arm. Quillon wondered if Mikey’s touch felt the same for Asher as it had for him. Like electricity crackling through Mikey’s hands. Quillon’s face still tingled where Mikey had touched him earlier, when he first opened his eyes after the seizure. The way Asher’s eyes widened slightly told him probably so. There was something about this human. Something extraordinary. Quillon found himself wanting to know more about both the man and the gift he seemed to possess.
First, Mikey’s voice called to h
is manticore. Not just the surface words, but the timber of it. Then, when Mikey had appeared before them, Quillon felt a pull towards him, literally, with his manticore being dragged to the surface as soon as Mikey looked his way. He’d not shifted in a while. Years, actually. City living didn’t lend itself to hiding his true form, and he didn’t have the same magic as Asher had in his dragon form. When Asher shifted, not only was it incredibly fast, a step between forms that lasted a mere second, but his magic could also camouflage him from any unsuspecting human eyes. Quillon only wished he had that ability.
Sure, his other form’s head was designed to fool humans, being mostly human in appearance, but the rest of his body didn’t camouflage well in a cityscape, not with his lion body, scorpion tale, and giant wings. There was no mistaking him for something other than supernatural and no hiding away from curious eyes with convenient magic. From the second that their gazes met, Quillon felt free, alive in a way that he hadn’t felt in a while. Settled, in every sense of the word.
“I, um, I need to go to the bathroom,” Mikey said quietly. He blushed beautifully, looking away from them and down at his knees.
“Okay,” Quillon said. “Let me help you up.”
“I will help,” Asher huffed.
His dragon was a little cranky at the lack of attention. Quillon moved his hand aside and sipped his coffee while Asher guided Mikey to his feet and to the back of the shop where the door marked “restroom” was located. He returned a moment later and knelt beside Quillon.
“This is not good,” Asher said quietly.
“I know that.”
“We should leave.”
“How can you say that? Something happened here. I—” Quillon growled. “I can’t explain it, but there’s something going on here. We’re supposed to be here, with him. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, too. I know you did.”