by Ophelia Bell
I had no idea how long we’d be here, or whether it would be safe enough to venture to the store for fresh food. We could probably survive for a while on the supplies available. I found some frozen soup and French bread in the freezer, which I heated up, and we demolished between the two of us. Then, after cleaning up, I braced myself and ventured farther into the house, turning on lights in each room as I entered, but the lights couldn’t dispel the ghosts of memories lurking in every corner. It felt smaller than I remembered, but then I’d only been a child when I lived here before.
Gray followed at my side, staying close enough that his comforting aura encompassed me like a protective bubble. I couldn’t help but lean in, desperate for the sense of safety his touch gave me. Without a word, he slipped his arm around my waist, letting me lead the way.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked, glancing down at me.
“Not for long. I was four years old when we left. I still remember the place though. There are so many amazing nooks for a little girl to explore.” We stepped into the library, skirting around the sheet-covered furniture. Huge picture windows filled two entire walls, and the other two were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and cabinets. A layer of dust covered everything that wasn’t protected, but otherwise, the place was in perfect condition and was exactly how I remembered it. I paused beside the fireplace and bent down to open a cabinet, revealing shelves of children’s books within.
Gray slipped away, and when I looked up, he was standing in front of the fireplace, staring at an object on the mantelpiece.
“You’ve been doing this your entire life, haven’t you?” he asked as he reached out and picked up a hand-blown vase in both hands. His fingers traced the ratachello pattern that crisscrossed in a pale web around the bulbous base. I simply stared.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, despite the fact that I’d just seen him pick it up. He shot me a confused look. “I mean … what the actual fuck? I made that when I was fifteen.”
“This?” he asked, holding the vase up. “It has your energy all over it. So do the other things.” He gestured around at a few of the shelves, and my eyes widened when I finally registered the assortment of handmade gewgaws that I had created when I was young. Yanked out of my nostalgic haze, I rushed to the shelf, staring uncomprehending at the vase, then seeing more artifacts of my life around on the other shelves, the walls, the mantel.
The assortment of creations scattered around the room were like a tribute to my evolution as an artist. The walls were covered with framed crayon drawings I’d made, as well as more detailed sketches as my skill improved. The built-in bookshelves were littered with the first little clay pots I’d hand-built as a child. Creating things was in my blood, and being confronted with it all only drove home how powerless I was to follow through with the masterpiece stuck in my head.
“How did these get here?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t make all this by the age of four,” Gray said.
I shook my head, still baffled. “No. I started with pottery when I was little. We had a studio in the barn behind the house. But I didn’t transition to glass until I was about twelve years old. I haven’t been back here since we left when I was four.”
He set the vase down and slipped up beside me, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to look into his glowing silver eyes. “Sounds like you have a fan. There’s other magic in this room that isn’t yours. Your parents, perhaps? You haven’t mentioned your mother.”
He left the statement hanging as he stared down at me with an expectant look. I shook my head and stepped back from him, blinking in confusion. “No. She disappeared and never came back. That was why Dad and I left when I was little. Because Mom abandoned us here. This has got to be some kind of joke.”
But really there was no other explanation, was there? I stared up at Gray, silently pleading for him to offer some magical excuse for why my childhood creations were displayed around this room like it was some sort of museum.
“I’m sorry, April. Usually, the most obvious explanation is the truth. Either your dad came back and did this, or…”
“Or my mother’s still alive?”
“Or she was alive at least long enough to collect mementos of her daughter’s accomplishments. There’s no new energy here. The most recent signatures are a few years old.”
I bit my lip, near tears at the thought that she’d been alive but never came to see me. Did Dad know? He’d been absent so much since I turned eighteen and started college. I’d never been afraid of change since he and I moved so frequently when I was young, but I always came back to Seattle. Part of asserting my independence when I came of age had been insisting on staying put for a change, but Dad hadn’t been able to stick around to do the same. It was as if he was either running from something or searching for something on his ridiculous pilgrimage.
Gray let out an amused huff.
“Something in my head entertaining enough to laugh at?” I challenged.
“The bit about your dad’s pilgrimage,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “That’s an ursa tradition. Young ursa are all expected to embark on a pilgrimage out of the Sanctuary. It is both an escape and a search of sorts. A vision quest, for them to find themselves, or to learn about the human world and bring back knowledge or treasures that will benefit their home clans. Somehow I’m not surprised that he uses that term. I have a feeling he’s your source of ursa blood. And your mother…” He glanced around the room again, nodding slightly as if his suspicions were just confirmed. “With an estate this fine and her penchant for finding and hoarding treasures, she definitely has strong dragon blood running through her veins.” He picked up the vase again. “Except her idea of treasure was your art.”
His eyebrows turned down at the look I gave him. “Are you saying my mom was a hoarder?”
“Yes?” he said tentatively. “Aren’t you? It’s a trait of dragons. And evidently of Bloodline humans with dragon blood.”
With a sigh, I patted his chest, too tired to explain my poor attempt at a joke. Especially because he wasn’t exactly wrong. I had a really difficult time getting rid of anything.
I slipped my hand into his and wandered back the way we’d come, transfixed by the collection of art that peppered the edges of the bookshelves. Near the door, I paused at a shelf I hadn’t seen when we walked in. On it was a more recent flame-work sculpture I’d made from a series of botanical studies I’d been experimenting with. It was a tiny, delicate mariposa lily, one I’d been proud of but needed the money it would bring if I sold it too much to hang onto. Surrounding it were several framed photos of my parents and me when I was small, and of a few other friends and family. My grandmother, who was only the most faded memory was in one. Next to her stood an attractive younger woman, and beside her was my mother.
Gray made a low sound in his throat and picked up the photo. “You were cute as a baby.” He shot me a smile, then touched another face in the picture. “Who are the others?” he asked.
“The one on the right is my mom. The older woman is Grandma Meryl. And the other lady is Grandma’s friend Adele. I think they worked together, but my memory’s not exactly reliable that far back. And that handsome devil holding me is my dad.”
He kept staring at the photo with a strange expression. I touched his arm. “Something wrong?”
He seemed to come back to himself and tore his gaze away from the photo, setting it back on the shelf. “Not at all,” he said, smiling at me, then pointing at the glass flower. “I’d like to know where you got your inspiration for the amazing things you created.”
I gripped his hand and turned, tugging him behind me as I headed up the dark-stained oak staircase.
He chuckled when I pushed open the door to a bedroom on the second floor. Not my childhood room, but a nursery wasn’t the ideal place for us to sleep, and there were plenty of other rooms to choose from. “I definitely feel inspired in here,” he said, pressing a kiss to my neck from beh
ind.
I leaned back against his chest with a sigh. “I’m too wiped out to show you anything else right now. The pick-me-up we shared earlier is pretty much spent. Nothing sounds more inspiring right now than a shower and then sleep.”
“Then we’ll just have to make that work,” he said, taking over and leading me into the bathroom.
Gray looked less worse for wear than I felt, so I gladly let him take over. He turned on the shower, and soon, steam filled the big tiled room as he redirected his attention to me. “Want to see a trick?” he asked, eyes glinting mischievously.
“I already know you can do actual magic, you know.”
He ignored me and made an O with his mouth, blowing pale white smoke that soon overtook the steam, filling the room in a cloud as opaque as cotton. In the white blankness, I had the sense of floating, and when I felt big hands touch my shoulders and slide down my arms, I was startled to realize I was completely naked, even though I hadn’t shed my clothes. They’d apparently just dissolved in all this smoke.
Gray’s warm body pressed close, his hands sliding down my back, and a moment later, he lifted me, cradling me in his arms. I could just make out his handsome face through the mist, and I hooked my hands around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“You’re like a drug,” I said when I pulled away, a sense of relaxed euphoria overtaking me so completely it was a challenge not to just close my eyes and forget.
“It’s the smoke. White dragon smoke has a relaxing effect on the body.”
He stepped into the shower with me still held in his arms, jostling me slightly as he tested the water, then set me down partway under one of the two big showerheads. Within the steamy space, the white smoke was less dense and had begun to fade outside the doors too. After a moment, I could see him clearly again, standing beneath the second showerhead opposite me. Water sluiced over his sculpted body, trickling down all the natural crevices. He was completely hairless, I realized, except for the thick, dark hair on his head.
“Want me to wash your back?” he asked, picking up a bar of soap and working up a lather in his hands.
Mindlessly, I nodded and turned, my sigh turning into a groan of pleasure as his big hands began massaging my sore, stiff muscles. He tugged at the end of my braid and gently began to unravel it then started working shampoo into my hair.
His voice sounded low and relaxed when he spoke close to my ear. “You’re so filled with magic, it’s easy to forget you’re human. One good dose of Nirvana like we shared is enough for me to go for several days without rest or food if necessary. I guess it doesn’t work the same for you.”
“So you live on sex, is that it?”
He turned me to face him, urging me to tilt my head back to rinse. While my head was back and my eyes closed, he began to gently massage my breasts with both soapy hands.
“We still need food and sleep, but we can subsist for longer without it, as long as we have a willing partner. But we also can’t live without sex for too long without turning feral. When I walked into your gallery, I’d been without long enough that I would have needed to find someone soon. Your magic more than refilled my well.”
I tilted back farther, letting the water drench my face as I processed this information. I had questions but was enjoying the way he slowed his strokes at the tips of my breasts almost too much to ruin the mood by asking. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “How long had it been for you?” I asked, straightening up and opening my eyes again, a little anxious about what I’d learn. I knew nothing about him other than his love for art and his status as a dragon.
“A few days.”
I searched his face, sure I caught a hint of sadness, then remembered I could see his aura if I tried. When I shifted my vision, the silvery halo around him appeared, with a bluer tinge than I remembered the last time. “You had a lover? A girlfriend? Did you break up or something?” Then it occurred to me to ask. “Who did you call earlier anyway?”
His soapy hands roamed lower, sliding around my hips as he closed the distance between us. “Lovers, plural. Friends…brothers, in a sense. No girls though. And, yes, my phone call was to get into contact with them. I’m going to need their help if Vesh returns with his brothers. Hopefully, they’ll all come.”
Lovers, plural. My mouth parted with an unformed question as I struggled to find the words for what I wanted to ask: exactly how many lovers did he need?
He bent and kissed me before I could string the sentence together, obliterating any other thought as he pulled me tight against him. He hoisted me up into his arms and pressed me against the tile wall, leaving me no choice but to wrap arms and legs around him. I was more than ready when he speared me with his cock, gasping at the surprising pleasure of his huge shaft. I still marveled at how perfect he felt despite his size.
Inside my mind, his voice hummed. “You are more than enough for me, April. In fact, I think I may not be enough for you.”
Ridiculous. Though, if I were being honest with myself, I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of this feeling, and even after he made me come a moment later, an alien craving for more settled deep inside me. It was all I could do to push it aside in favor of getting to know this amazing man who’d walked into my life at just the right moment.
My fatigue had faded by the time we finished bathing, so I was at least not too clumsy to dry myself off. We fell into my bed naked, tossing towels across the pillows to avoid soaking them with our wet hair, and I lay on my side, staring at him in wonder as we relaxed in the pre-dawn light.
“Okay, I need to ask just so I’m sure I understood you correctly. Multiple lovers, who weren’t women. So you and a couple men? In a…triad? So you’re bisexual?”
He smiled indulgently. “I’m a dragon. We’re pansexual. And it was me and five others. But the important thing for you to know is that my team and I worked together at the same casino where Vesh is employed as enforcer. His boss was our former employer.”
“Your former employer, meaning…Chaos.” I still couldn’t wrap my brain around that detail. He nodded, and I opted to leave that topic for another day. “I thought you were an artist?” I asked instead.
“I am, but among the dragon race, I’m also a Guardian. I’m trained to protect. My entire team are trained as guardians in some fashion. We served as bodyguards to the singer Aella until last year. Have you heard of her?”
“Heard of her?” I squeaked, pushing myself up onto one elbow and staring at him in awe. “Did you not hear our playlist in the shop? She takes up half of it!”
He chuckled. “I heard. Nothing but Aella and Fate’s Fools for two hours. They’re a staple among the Bloodline, I think.”
“Is it true she has three lovers? Are they like you?” I was bubbling over with questions now, curious about the pop idol and dying to know whatever secrets Gray was willing to spill.
“Three demigods. They’re nothing like me—they’re way scarier. Hence why I’m out of a job now,” he said ruefully. He cupped the side of my face, and his gaze grew earnest. “But you’ve given me hope.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Why? Are you addicted to saving damsels in distress or something?”
“No, it has nothing to do with this predicament we’re in. It’s this draw we have to each other. You felt it instantly, don’t deny it.”
His gaze searched mine as if he was afraid I would deny it, but I wasn’t a liar. I shook my head. “You’re right. Being near you feels like a piece of a puzzle falling into place. But is it meant to be? It’s too soon for me to say for sure. I barely know you.”
He nodded, chewed on his lip, and glanced down at the sheets between us. It was such an adorable hesitation for such a strong man, I had the urge to lean in and kiss him, but when his eyes lifted again, they blazed with conviction. “When the others arrive, will you let me know if you feel the same way around them?”
I frowned. “Gray, you don’t need to worry. Whatever this is between us, I’m dead set on seeing i
t through. I’m not going to start throwing myself at other guys. I like you too much. And you saved my life.”
His mouth quirked to one side. “I could argue that you actually saved mine. Vesh was about to strangle me when you whacked him with your punty.”
I grinned. “Hell yeah, I kicked his chaotic ass!”
Gray took one of my hands in his, his expression growing serious again as his eyes filled with earnestness. “You misunderstood me though. You’re special, April. I have a feeling you will feel something for the others when they come. In fact, I hope you do. It isn’t uncommon for the higher races to form polyamorous bonds, but for the six of us, there’s no glue without the right woman, and so we split up to try to find our own mates. We’ve grown close over the past few years, so it was hard parting ways with them, but something we knew we had to do. We all want mates and families too much.”
My heartbeat thumped harder. “And what if I do feel something for one of them? You’re not going to get jealous?”
“In a perfect world, you will feel something for all of them. And them for you. The way I feel right now, I can’t imagine any of them not instantly loving you. You’re filled with enough magic to match us all. I think you’re perfect for us.”
He practically whispered the last few words, as if he’d lost his breath. Was he suggesting what I thought?
“Gray…” I sighed and shook my head. “I hope you’re not investing a lot of energy in this fantasy that they’ll all like me. It’s an awful lot to ask that I click with all six of you, when I barely even know you. I’m so used to being alone, I don’t typically let myself dive in headfirst with a guy. You are an anomaly, and there are very serious outside influences affecting what’s happening between us. You know the saying that lightning never strikes in the same place twice? What if this is a once in a lifetime thing?” I waved my hand between the two of us. “I think it’s wishful thinking that I’d feel the same way about five other guys. The fact that I feel this about you is wild enough.”