Since waking ten years ago when his mate would’ve first come into their magic, Prys had reacquainted himself with the world. While he could’ve packed up and moved to be closer to his mate, he didn’t want to be some weird two hundred-ish year old dragon stalking a teenage witch. So he’d stayed in Wales so his witch could grow up. Added together, over his entire life, Prys had been awake for less than forty years. He was barely ten percent through his lifespan.
He leaned on the wall, waiting for the door to open. The waft of food from the street vendors made his nose twitch. But food could wait. He didn’t want the witch to slip away again. It was hard work traveling overseas on his own wing. He’d risked landing and resting on cargo ships, his bag with clothes, gold and his sister never far from his clawed foot.
But she wasn’t with him tonight.
He’d left her in the hotel. And he still wasn’t sure if that was the right decision, even though lugging around a coppery-red rock the length of his forearm drew attention.
The crowd swelled, eager to get through the door and it was all he could do not to turn on his heel and walk away to try again another night. What if he went back to sleep and there was never another fire witch or mate? He’d sleep forever, and his sister would never get the chance to live.
For her, he’d stay. He wouldn’t fail.
He let the humans surge through the door and to the front. He entered last and stayed at the back, hidden in the shadows. He didn’t need to be close to the stage; his eyesight was sharp for hunting. But he needed to figure out which witch was his and when there was more than one person on the stage that was difficult. The presence of his mate so close was a hum in his chest, like bees had made their home among his ribs.
There was a safety announcement about not getting close, and that fire was dangerous. Prys smiled. To humans. Fire wouldn’t hurt him. Or the witch. Why was a fire witch playing with human tricks when they could do anything?
The music started, and four dancers stepped onto the stage. None of them were the two dancers from out the front, and they were all wearing much smaller costumes. He narrowed his eyes. What kind of show had he bought a ticket to? If not for the ache to be here, he’d have left to go searching for his mate.
But Prys was good at waiting.
And eventually he was rewarded when the man stepped on stage alone. The vest was gone. His feet were bare and so were most of his legs. His shorts were the concession to decency, though really, they only drew attention to the fact the rest of him was naked.
Heat, that had nothing to do with fire, flooded Prys’s body and the hum became a buzz that almost drowned out the music. Prys blinked and lifted his gaze to the man’s face. He was the witch.
The witch smiled as he lit the ball on the end of a rope. While he could have started the fire with a touch, he pretended he was human. Prys lips curved. Didn’t we all?
It was safer not to be called out. Prys smile faded. His family hadn’t been so lucky. Someone must have seen something. Maybe it was the ease with which his father worked the blacksmith, or the way his mother would take off for days at a time. The family had laughed off the whispers that she was a witch—Dad was the witch; Mom was the dragon. She’d smile and say she’d eat the villagers before they hurt her family. He’d been sixteen, barely shifting, when he’d fled.
A gasp drew his attention back to the witch, showing off his skill with fire for all to see. He moved with the rope as if he and it were one. The fireball on the end brushed over his skin, and then spun around him as he bound himself in the rope only to unravel in a wild spin. He lifted into a handstand and melted into a split as graceful as a cat, almost as controlled as a dragon.
He was a pleasure to watch.
The witch took a drink from a bottle on the stage, then blew out a breath of flame. Prys’s eyes widened; only dragons could breathe fire.
The woman from outside walked on stage, and she swapped the rope for burning hoops. Prys forced himself to watch her for a few moments, so he could be sure it was the man who was the witch. It took only seconds, and not just because he felt it in the hollow center of his bones, but because of the way she moved. Where the man had no fear, no care, she was careful where she touched the hoop. Her moves were more coordinated. His, while graceful, betrayed his innate affinity. The fire would never harm him. So even as he spun with the hoop, faster and through the center, not even his long dark braid caught fire.
When the witch ran his fingers through the flame like it was something dangerous, Prys almost laughed. The witch looked directly at him. His kohl darkened eyes widened for a moment; fire danced up his arm. The crowd gasped.
The witch snapped his attention back to his performance, grinned and swept the flames away as though it were part of the show. It hadn’t been. Prys’s gaze lingered on the witch and the way his skin gleamed in the firelight. As soon as the music ended, and the witch left the stage, the spell was broken and Prys could think again. This wasn’t the first time he’d experienced the rush of seeing a mate in the flesh.
Yet it was just as intoxicating.
The hope that his lonely watch would be over flared within him. That he could build a family. That he could live… He exhaled. But he knew how quickly those fragile hopes could be dashed against the rocks; that he would be left broken and bleeding for the crows to pick over.
Would this witch be more honest than the last one?
It didn’t matter, all Prys needed was for the witch the wake the egg. He could ignore the need to complete the mating bond. He slipped out of the show and into the warm night air, needing to gather himself. He paced around the temporary venue, but there was no back door. The performers would have to leave by the front like everyone else. He sat nearby to wait.
People drifted by, but the night was wrapping up, and they were going home. He’d been gone from the hotel room too long. Even though he knew his sister was locked up in the safe, and she wouldn’t miss him, he didn’t like leaving her for hours. He didn’t want to have to rescue her again. That meant death, and he didn’t want to be that dragon, the one that killed people and was hunted.
Eventually the show ended, and the audience trickled out the door.
Then there was no one. The minutes ticked by. Prys remained still, as though he were sleeping through the decades. But he was aware of every second and there was no peace in his body, only tension that thrummed along every nerve.
He was so close.
What if the witch refused?
Not for the first time, he wondered if this quest was for nothing. What if by the time his sister was old enough there was no mate for her, because there were no fire witches? Then there’d be no more dragons. Only a fire witch could wake a dragon egg.
Should he have captured the witch instead of killing her? Had he made a grave mistake a hundred years ago?
The door opened and six people came out. They laughed and started walking together.
Prys cursed. He’d been hoping to get the witch alone. He stood, and everyone looked over. Some startled as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. He couldn’t turn invisible; he’d just been extra still and unnoticeable, which was a very useful skill in times gone by when knights thought hunting dragons and burning witches was fun.
The witch broke away from the group as though he knew Prys had waited for him.
Prys couldn’t help as a smile spread over his lips. The buzz in his chest intensified. He hadn’t expected his mate to be a man, but it wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t like Prys could lay eggs and keep the dragons alive, anyway. The best he could’ve managed was to father some fire witches, and even that wasn’t guaranteed.
The witch’s hair was loose, hanging past his shoulders. His eyes were still darkened, and even in the bright green T-shirt and black jeans, he had a swagger. “You left halfway through.”
Prys wasn’t sure if it was the draw of the bond or the man himself that captured his attention so thoroughly. This wasn�
��t about the bond, or what he wanted, though. He needed a witch, not a mate. “How many of them know you can make your own fire?”
The smile left the witch’s lips, and his eye narrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Prys.” He gave a slow blink, letting his eyes change from blue to gold. “And I’d appreciate it if you could do a small magic for me.”
The witch stepped back; one eyebrow lifted. “Let me rephrase and start over, what the fuck are you?”
“Dragon.” Wasn’t that obvious?
The witch tilted his head, then laughed. “Dragons aren’t real.” He stared at Prys. Then he rubbed his chest over his heart and froze when he caught himself doing it. “You’re a shifter.”
“Yes. The last dragon.”
“Come on, Aaron,” his friends called.
Aaron glanced over his shoulder. Prys held his breath, expecting Aaron to leave.
“I’m sure I will regret staying, but I’ll regret walking away more,” Aaron muttered then lifted his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he turned back to Prys. “You’re a dragon shifter. The last one. That’s a very elaborate pick up line. You could’ve just offered to buy me a drink.”
“You weren’t shocked I was waiting.”
Aaron ran his fingers through his hair. “Why couldn’t you have just been some after show fun? Why did you have to spoil it by being paranormal?”
He couldn’t change what he was. “I’ve been searching for a fire witch.”
Aaron lifted an eyebrow. “Why me?”
Prys hesitated. He wanted to run his fingers up Aaron’s arm. Would he be hot to touch? But if he reached out to him, he’d want to kiss him and that would be a disaster. Why was it harder to resist this time?
“Because I was drawn to you.”
Aaron pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Look, I’m not after a familiar. I don’t want to mess with that stuff. I just want to have some fun, travel, use my magic without anyone knowing, I can make fire, that’s it. So I don’t know how I can help you.”
Prys didn’t know what to say. There couldn’t have been any fun between them, anyway. One kiss and the bond would form. Anything else would only make it stronger; their lives and magics would be bound. For a heartbeat, that was all he wanted. All he needed was a mate so he wouldn’t be alone for the next century or two. He swallowed down the desire. Aaron didn’t want him, which was fine. Just because there was the chance of a bond didn’t mean it had to happen—he’d proven that last time.
“I wasn’t looking for a fire witch to be my mate, I need you to do some magic for me.” He pulled a heavy gold ring off his finger. “I can pay.”
And this is where it had gone horribly wrong last time. She’d agreed to help him and had been entranced by the gold. As much as Prys had wanted to kiss her and start the bond, he’d held back because there’d been something about her enthusiasm that had put him off. He thought she’d wanted a familiar too badly. Turned out it was just the egg and gold.
Prys held out the ring.
Aaron stared at it but didn’t take it. “What’s that?”
“Payment…is it not enough?”
“I don’t even know what you want me to do.” He shook his head. “Let’s not do this on the street, people might think you’re buying something other than magic.”
Prys considered him for a moment. “So, you will help me?”
Aaron shrugged. “I agree to get a drink with you, and you can tell me what you want. And I’ll think about it. Put the ring back on.”
That sounded like a good start. And Prys liked the way Aaron had refused the gold. He hadn’t even tried to touch the ring.
Aaron led them to a bar that was busy and noisy out the front, but out the back in a garden that was decorated with hundreds of tiny lights, conversation was softer and the tables were tucked in the shadows. They found a nook and sat.
“So, Prys, what do you do when you aren’t hunting for fire witches?”
Prys winced. “I don’t hunt witches.”
“Um…I didn’t mean it like that. No one hunts witches anymore…wait, how old are you, really?”
“Two hundred and twenty-three, but I was asleep for most of it, so it doesn’t count.”
“Why were you asleep?”
“Because I was waiting.” Prys paused and looked at Aaron. “For a fire witch. You’re quite rare.”
Aaron smiled. “So I’ve been told.” He rubbed his fingers together, and a blue flame flicked over the tips. “You’re looking for a mate.”
Was he that obvious? “No, I’m not…though that connection helped me find you.”
Aaron gestured between them. “We aren’t going to repopulate the dragons.”
Prys rolled his eyes. “Do you know anything about dragons?”
The waitress stopped at their table, notebook in hand. “Can I get you some drinks?”
“Beer, whatever mid-strength you have on tap,” Aaron said.
“Same.” Because it was easy, and he didn’t care what the alcohol was. She held out a machine to pay, but Prys didn’t have a card. “Do you take cash?”
“No,” the waitress said.
“I’ve got it, he left his wallet at home.” Aaron tapped his card.
Aaron waited until the waitress had moved on, then leaned over the table. “Do you even have a wallet, ID or anything?”
“Not right now.” If he was going to stay awake, he’d have to arrange all of that.
“I don’t know anything about dragons, but I know about shifters and the familiar bond, so I make a point of not getting involved with any shifters. But I saw you, and I knew you weren’t human, and I wanted to know more. And here I am…” He leaned back. “I don’t like feeling that the Fates have taken over.”
Whereas Prys had lived for the moment that the Fates would wake him from his slumber. He’d hoped for a mate. Now he was being cast aside. Times had changed, but his heart was still stuck in the past and with the old ways. He needed to move on. “As long as we don’t kiss then this thing won’t be a problem.”
“That’s good, because my plans of going drinking with a cute guy with a hot accent never involve kissing.” Aaron looked away. The fairy lights glinted in his dark eyes. “You need a fire witch for dragon business?”
“I have an egg I need hatched.” He pulled the ring off his finger. “It will only take a few minutes.”
Aaron snorted. “I know how do a few tricks.” He lifted his hand and a small flame danced in the center. He tossed the flame and caught it on his tongue before swallowing it. “I don’t know any actual magic.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because there is no school for witches. Maybe if there was, my father wouldn’t be a functioning alcoholic—it drowns out all the other people’s thoughts that fill his head.” Aaron ran a fingernail over the table and a small gold flame followed. “I’m doing the best I can, so I don’t lose my mind to magic I have to hide.”
The waitress put their drinks on the table. Prys smiled at her, then watched her move onto the next table before he spoke. “I don’t know what you need to do to wake the egg, only that you are the only one who can.”
“How many other witches have you asked?”
“One.”
“And why did they say no?”
“She tried to steal the egg and…” he needed to be honest and offer a warning “And it didn’t end well for her.” He fixed Aaron with a glare that usually made people step back.
Aaron grinned. “Did you eat her?”
Prys crossed his arms, trying to be indignant, but the glimmer in Aaron’s eyes made it hard. He didn’t want to start liking this witch. “It’s clear you have no idea about anything.”
“You came to me.” Aaron picked up his beer and took a long swallow.
Something he was seriously questioning. Why would the Fates put such a flippant, ignorant young man in his path?
“Who is the egg? Is it yours from a previous relationship?”
“My sister, I’ve been guarding her since I was sixteen.”
Both Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit. And will she hatch as a human or dragon?”
“What do you think?”
“That I have a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong.”
Prys’s nodded. Aaron wasn’t foolish, just naïve. “Human.”
“So you hatched?”
“Yes.” Dragon shifters laid eggs, but the baby was human, not learning to shift until puberty—the same as every other shifter.
“This is really confusing.”
“Not really.”
“I didn’t even know dragons were real until half an hour ago.”
“But you believed me.”
“I can see the dragon around you when I look closely. All shifters have that animal shape about them. That and that thing you did with your eyes.”
Prys did the slow blink again. Through the dragon eyes he could see magic. Aaron was surrounded in his own private firestorm. It licked over his skin and through his hair. Wild and terrifying and completely at odds with the way he was calmly sipping cold beer.
“Yeah, super weird.” Yet Aaron didn’t look away.
Prys did, he couldn’t hold it in his human form. Partial shifts weren’t easy to maintain.
“It might take me years to find another witch.” And he’d have no familiar bond to assist the search. But it would be better than sleeping and hiding. He needed to wake his sister, so she had a chance. “Will you at least try?”
“And if I fail?”
“You can keep the ring.” Prys nudged it over the table.
“And if I succeed?”
Prys entertained the hope that they could be mates and raise his sister and that he wouldn’t spend the rest of his days alone. But Aaron didn’t want a familiar. It stung to be rejected so quickly. He swallowed and found his voice. “I’ll take her back to Wales and raise her.” There’d be enough ocean between them that the longing to be with his mate would fade, eventually.
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