by R. Cooper
A scent in the air stopped his thoughts completely.
Warm scent, dragon and male and just… so very male and so very dragon, curled around Edgar from across the room. It had not crept to him because Justin would never have allowed it to. Justin’s scent did not creep or tiptoe. It filled up space, conquered it, and it was oxygen to the fire deep inside Edgar, heat lightning to his every patch of exposed skin.
Edgar took a deep breath and then opened his eyes.
Instead of a werewolf, Justin Khan stood before him. But he might as well have been a werewolf, no matter how many dragons in Edgar’s extended family who would consider that an insult.
Justin wouldn’t. He was, after all, the dragon who, outraged at the many human sports organizations that banned beings and magic users from their teams in the interest of “fairness,” founded his own group for beings who wanted to play in their free time.
When Justin, who had just started grad school, was supposed to have free time was a question Edgar knew better than to ask. Justin would make time for what he wanted. That was to be expected, even by dragon standards. No one would name a child Justinian Khan and expect him to be meek and retiring.
Justin played rugby with werewolves, and football with trolls, and once, baseball with elves who were obsessed with the numbers of the game more than the sport itself.
Edgar had seen pictures, although he’d wisely not attended any of the games, despite invitations. Werewolves would know. Dragons also knew, or at least suspected, but they would never offend Edgar’s dignity by mentioning it. Even Justin said not a word. Edgar liked to think it was a sign of respect, but he suspected his family was silent on the subject out of hope that someday Edgar might do something about his very obvious feelings.
He would not, for many reasons. Not the least of which was the silence from Justin himself.
“Hello, Ras,” Justin greeted him, unusually quiet. But the room itself was quiet, and others were often hesitant to change that.
Edgar blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself from the vision of tortured love to the present moment of Justin’s form in the doorway, the dramatic black and gold of him only made more so by dance of flames from the fire in the fireplace, and the last burst of sunset through the stained glass windows of the library.
Because Edgar’s feelings were already obvious, it was all right to stare for another moment at the height and breadth of Justin, a dragon of a size to almost rival the old ones. Edgar’s heart beat faster as all his silly tales spun out before his eyes, but with Justin the hero. Justin, black and gold and too clever, thorough and persistent and determined to show humans he felt no fear of them.
In contrast, Edgar, soft and serious, with scales of light blue-green and a mess of brown hair, might impress a human with his looks. But though he made some dragons uncomfortable, he wouldn’t say he impressed them. His family loved him, but no one longed to appease him, to lay treasure at his feet, one piece at a time, until he was theirs.
Edgar put a hand to his throat, then lowered his gaze to his computer screen.
He realized he’d left his notes on a potential love scene open and firmly closed the laptop before he looked back up.
He wasn’t surprised at Justin wandering through his family’s house. The Khans owned a house just across town, and Justin had been friends with Edgar’s older brother, Felix, practically since they’d both been hatchlings. Justin had spent summers with them as a child, and too many weekends to count since then. If he didn’t have a key of his own by now, then Edgar’s mother would have let him in, and possibly told him to come see Edgar.
She would never give up.
Edgar was forgiving, however, since Justin smiled at him, and looked compelling in his fleece jacket and jogging pants. He’d probably played some kind of sport before coming over. Which, although interesting to imagine, still didn’t explain what he was doing here. Aiden should have messaged Edgar to warn him. They had an arrangement. Edgar told stories in which a bootlegger, or smuggler, or pirate fell in love with two people instead of choosing one while Aiden pretended those stories were not about him, and in return, Aiden messaged Edgar on the doings and whereabouts of one Justinian Khan.
Not like a spy. Like a reporter, or a kind friend who understood dragon anxiety about such matters.
“Justin.” Edgar couldn’t help but smile back despite his confusion over the situation. “Didn’t your classes just begin? You’ve stressed repeatedly that humans are harder on beings in their colleges, which means you have to be your best. Oh—” Edgar’s thoughts splintered in different directions. He imagined Justin sick of humans treating him badly, storming off—but no, that was not Justin’s way. Justin was tired, then, and needed a break—no, he wouldn’t come here. They were friends, but Edgar was a seer. The room offered peace, but Edgar sometimes didn’t.
But… Justin did not hide from the truth, either.
Puzzled, Edgar focused on him again. “If you’ve come looking for Felix, you’re in trouble, because he’s not here. He’s interning in Los Cerros. First time he’s ever lived on his own, and he’s being a big baby about it.”
Edgar had never lived alone. He still slept in his childhood bedroom—or on this couch more often than not. He most likely would never move out on his own. Seer he might be, but he was much too weak for the world of humans. They demanded action, not thought, and didn’t like the truth as much as they claimed to.
Justin, naturally, owned a house near his college campus. Edgar had never been there, not even when the housewarming invitation had arrived in his name. He knew better than to look at the lair that could never be his.
“I know where Felix is.” Justin rolled his eyes before coming forward into the room at last. He sat on the other side of the couch without disturbing a single volume stacked on the arm closest to him. “He has the money to hire a housekeeper, but won’t, because he wants to prove something. Then he texts me at four in the morning about fabric softener. Big baby is right.” He released a noisy sigh as he stretched out, perfectly at home in a sea of books. “Felix will be fine, Ras. I’m more interested in what you were doing when I got here.”
“Um.” Edgar made a truly embarrassing gurgling sound that was meant to be a gentle shush. “When did you get here?” He widened his eyes. “Was I making faces again?” Everyone said he made faces when he was writing, and he didn’t want to know what his expression had been while contemplating Red Wolf’s fragile mating bond.
The cloud of smoke around Justin was white and fluffy and as satisfied as the curl of cat’s tail.
Edgar put his laptop to the side and sat back. Despite his rising blush, he smiled again. Justin didn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave. He put his arms behind his head—once again without dislodging a single book at the back of the couch—and let out a breath as he got comfortable. He smelled like someone finally getting home after a long day.
Edgar paused. “Are you exhausted from school already? If you aren’t well, you shouldn’t have driven up here for the weekend—oh.” He glanced away, but the only thing to look at that wasn’t Justin watching him with intensely dark eyes was his clasped hands in his lap. Edgar considered the shimmering hint of emerald scales on the backs of his hands and then, much too late, noticed that he was wearing the black flannel pajamas he tended to wear when he was feeling sad. He tried to smile, light and friendly, but his voice wobbled. “Are your parents hoping to introduce you to someone?”
With dragons no longer in hiding, they were free to choose partners wherever their hearts desired. Which was great for those dragons lucky in love, but somewhat alarming to the older dragons, who worried either that dragons were dying out, or that all the mingling with humans and elves and the like had weakened the dragon bloodlines.
It was true that dragons now were smaller than the ones of legend, at least according to how humans had depicted them, but Edgar thought it was a bunch of people worrying over nothing. The introductions were constant and anno
ying for the first few years and then trickled off once parents ran out of eligible dragons to throw at their offspring. But that was the exact sort of reason that Justin’s father might have called Justin up here.
Aiden really should have warned him.
“Are you hiding here with me?” Edgar teased, although his hands tightened, his vision filled with gray smoke, and there was a not-insignificant pain in his chest. “You should go. You might not find a life partner, but you could at least find a playmate or two. Unless you’ve already found some at school.”
“Edgar Erasmus Magnat.” Justin slowly shook his head. “What goes on in that brilliant mind of yours? Have you been imagining me in wild orgies? You have, haven’t you? Thousands of different tales running through your brain…. Admit it. Some of them were orgies.”
“I’m serious,” Edgar answered primly, oddly at ease with the stormy up and down feelings of jealousy, and the excitement and delicious pleasure at being subjected to Justin’s fearless teasing. No one else ever joked about the stories and yet understood exactly what it meant to have a mind always running. Edgar was odd and Justin did not mind. “You should go,” Edgar said again, though his fire raged. “You should be looking for your treasure.” For a moment, he could not breathe. “And if your treasure is not there, you could go back to school and find a human, simply to irk your mom. Think about that. Hmm? Not even your mother could argue if you found yourself a dragon’s boy.”
A dragon’s boy was an archaic term, and gendered besides, since it didn’t always mean a literal boy, but at its root, it meant the bond between a dragon and the Other it loved and swore to protect. It was not unlike a mating, but also… so very different. Even a weak dragon with no treasure, like Edgar, was more powerful than a human, or a fairy, or a werewolf. That changed the nature of any relationship, made the dragon stronger somehow, in ways even Edgar didn’t understand. They had to be stronger, to meet the needs of their boy. They had to be stronger because to keep the balance, mighty, powerful dragons had to submit to their treasure. It was unthinkable and wonderful all at once.
“A boy?” Justin frowned hard for a few moments, then switched to a grin. “You think I’m that powerful, Ras? I’m flattered.”
Justin’s large, well-muscled body seemed closer. But that could have been Edgar’s pointless, possessive fire making him more aware of the heat from another dragon not very far away.
Edgar rubbed his arms, as if that would make his awareness of Justin disappear. “You will be that powerful.” He had no hesitation for that vision. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would I.”
He meant it to be funny, although it was true. But Justin cocked his head to study him and then nodded. “Then I will be, if you need it.”
“You—” Edgar’s throat locked for a moment. “You’re welcome to stay here, if you are hiding from more potential matches. You may stay as long as you like.” Edgar’s little lair seemed to curl around Justin, or maybe Justin wore all the possible futures and stories in the room like a mantle.
Justin made a small scoffing sound despite his wide smile. “Ras, I swear to you, I’m not hiding from anything.”
“But… are you well?” Edgar pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged, then peered at Justin’s jaw and his perfect nose, the fierce slash of his eyebrows, and the dark fall of his hair. “You wouldn’t drive up here for no reason.”
Justin made that sound again. “It’s only an hour’s drive, Edgar, if that. Not the end of the world.”
“But my understanding was that grad school is harder, and that I—that we shouldn’t expect frequent visits from you.” Edgar tried not to close his eyes to remember each and every story he’d imagined where Justin went to grad school and loved it so much he never returned here, not even for visits.
Perhaps his scent gave some of that away, and Justin took pity on him. “It will be harder, but it’s not that difficult yet. Even if it was, I’d be up here again. Anyway, I like the drive.”
Edgar had a foolish heart and Justin was mean to tease him. But Edgar relaxed his hands to wave them accusingly in Justin’s direction. “You said it was a boring drive. I heard you.” He was still smiling. His heart beat faster and his mouth felt inordinately dry, but he was happy with Justin next to him.
“Well, boring is relaxing.” Justin tried to argue with a pleased, slightly smug grin on his face. “If you hate seeing me that much, Ras, I’ll go.”
“No, no!” Edgar whined immediately, leaning over to reach for Justin without letting his fingers actually grip the fleece of Justin’s jacket. “Stay. Please stay.” Edgar curled his hands into the couch cushions instead, and flushed at the delighted look he got, because, of course, Justin hadn’t moved a single centimeter.
“That’s the key, is it?” Justin mused, as if he didn’t already know. “To pull Edgar from his stories, I just have to remind him that I exist.”
“Jerk.” Edgar crossed his arms and glanced away and pretended Justin wasn’t already a constant shadow over his stories. “I haven’t forgotten you. But I don’t want you to waste time here if you have other things you need to do.” He was getting too close to the one truth he did not speak of, not even when telling a story. Justin knew of course, how could he not, with Edgar’s desires carrying to him in the air? And still, Justin was kind enough to come here, to be Edgar’s friend. But he wouldn’t stay. Edgar forced himself to go on. “I know I might seem lonely, but I’m not.”
Justin’s smiled slipped. He stared at Edgar, then around at all of his books. “In one of your visions of the possible, do you imagine I believe that being here is a waste of time? Do you really believe that, Ras? I don’t think you do.”
Considering what might be was so much more difficult with Justin’s gaze on him.
“I suppose not,” Edgar answered after a drawn-out moment, and then huffed a cloud of irritated white smoke. His speech always went more old-fashioned when Justin was near, as if he was in a Regency romance novel and he lost all sense when confronted by Justin’s thighs in tight buckskins.
They did not make many Regency romances about men loving men, and none at all about dragons, but Edgar could easily be the socially awkward relation of a rich house, watching a handsome duke as he was pursued by countless eligible daughters of the Ton. But in a story like that, the Duke might turn at the right moment to see Edgar on a balcony in the moonlight, or take pity on him and ask him to dance, only to be captivated by his sweet manners.
Edgar closed his eyes.
Justin’s voice came to him, soft and close. “Are you thinking up another story, Ras? Will you tell me this one?”
Edgar’s eyes flew open. Justin was on the middle cushion, sharing a warm, secret smile with him as though Edgar could not still feel his breath on his neck.
“No.” Edgar pressed his lips together to hide his smile. Justin should not tease, but dragons responded to need, and Edgar did not want him to stop. “I doubt you would find it interesting,” he insisted, although Justin’s curiosity was sharp on his tongue. Justin might enjoy indulging Edgar like this, but he would be less happy once Edgar’s story devolved into Barbara Cartland-inspired erotica, or the scandal of the Duke and Edgar caught in a compromising position and forced to marry.
Anyway, Edgar’s erotica was somewhat lacking. He had no practical knowledge to rely on.
Justin put his head back. “As if I didn’t come here for one of Ras’s stories.”
Edgar studied him carefully, while he waltzed with the Duke in the back of his mind. “Once, there was a younger brother, an heir to nothing, who was sometimes forced to go out into Society at the behest of his family.”
“Are they cruel?” Justin wondered instantly, only to relax when Edgar shook his head.
“No. But it’s… very difficult for him to focus when there is so much to imagine. He does not do well there, among the glittering Ton, attending dances and card parties with too much conversation. But his family worries. If he cannot prov
ide for himself, he must be seen to, cared for, but he will never attract the attention of any worthy party.”
“Why not?” The gold in Justin’s scales caught the firelight and the last gasp of sunshine through the windows.
Edgar deliberately closed his eyes. “He’s smart but not clever. Quiet, not witty. He has a habit of finding the truth and speaking it. More than that, he has no fortune of his own, and no great beauty to attract love. His family hopes, but he knows there is no grand match waiting for him.”
“That is one version of the story,” Justin protested softly. “I know you have another, and another. Tell me a happy one.”
“A duke, handsome and somewhat arrogant, who has to marry for his family, might find him suitable. Perhaps….” Edgar lowered his voice. “Perhaps he might find him more than suitable. Maybe he dances with him out of kindness, but the poor boy is calm in a sea of noise. The Duke, who is much sought after, and rightfully so, finds he enjoys his company. The boy, although lacking a fortune, is kind. A marriage of convenience might in time blossom to friendship, or more.”
“No. Happier.” Justin did not accommodate the books around him. He shaped them to his will.
Edgar turned his face away. “You want the fairy tale? Where the first dance is mere kindness, but the Duke is immediately struck by the boy’s softness, and charmed by his clear voice? Where he calls on him, again and again, and seeks him out at dances, and coaxes him out into the garden, and forgets himself among the perfumed rose bushes and steals a kiss?”
The air was warmer than it should have been. Warmer than even a fire and two dragons should have made it.
He didn’t want to look over during Justin’s long silence, but eventually, he had to.
“Is that what you were working on when I arrived?” Justin’s rough voice made him shiver. “What a life you must lead when I’m not around.”