by Delia Castel
His hand wrapped around her wrists. “Tell me now…” His voice shook. “Could you only love one dragon?”
“What?”
“Because it would be easier if you told me now that you preferred my brother.”
Her jaw dropped at the suggestion. “Why would I—”
“Do you?”
“No! If I had to choose one dragon, it would be my mate. The one who rose from the brink of death to save me. The one whose beautiful face and body makes me melt. The one whose kind and gentle nature warms my heart.”
He collapsed with relief, resting his head on her shoulder. “Thank the heavens. I thought you’d prefer Polaris.”
Marigold closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “I fell in love with you first.”
“Would you want us all?”
She smiled, curling her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The thought of being with Berrin and Polaris warmed her heart. They were both handsome, loving, and protective dragons and more than she’d ever dreamed of having. “I keep hearing that she-dragons can mate with a whole family of brothers. When I said I would be Matheson’s mate, it did cross my mind that Polaris might also be an option.” Sliding her arms around his neck, she murmured, “I plan on spending the rest of my life here with you.”
“Would you mate with Matheson as well?”
She grimaced. It was one thing to pretend to be his mate, and she had been prepared to have a one-time encounter with Matheson, but he was still an annoying brute. “I don’t know.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a tight squeeze. “That’s good enough for me.”
Chapter 16
Later that evening, Matheson paced at the bottom of the grand staircase, ignoring his smirking brothers. It was bad enough that they had both tasted Marigold, but they didn’t have to keep shooting each other self-congratulatory looks. He clenched his teeth. The pair always did act like they were a brotherhood of two and not three.
Scowling, he pulled out his pocket watch. “Doesn’t the wench understand that the sooner we get to the ball, the sooner we can leave with the King’s Blessing?”
“Marigold is a swift dresser,” said Berrin. “Nanny is the one holding her up.”
Matheson’s gaze turned to Polaris, who was doing a very poor job of concealing his agreement. He curled his lip. “Is anything amusing?”
“No.” Polaris’ expression darkened, and he folded his arms. “I’m worried about tonight. As I haven’t been invited to the ball, I have no way of keeping Marigold safe while in the palace.”
Matheson gritted his teeth. “Do you think I’m going to misplace her?”
“Not deliberately,” replied Berrin. “But things have a tendency to go awry in your presence.”
Searing heat flooded Matheson’s veins. His fists clenched, and his muscles tensed. Every fiber of his being wanted to punch the wretch in his little, blonde face. He squeezed his eyes shut, flared his nostrils, and took several deep breaths to remain calm. The brat probably didn’t want another brother sharing his mate. A fight breaking out as Marigold was due to descend the steps would guarantee that she would never let him consummate their union.
When his heart rate slowed and his blood cooled, he expanded his thoughts to the evening ahead. Uncle Hertz would be in the palace, waiting for the best moment to strike. He was the true enemy, not Berrin, who likely would have wanted the blessing for himself. If he wanted to make progress with Marigold, he needed to be less hot-headed and more concerned with her safety. Turning to his younger brother, he said, “I’m a changed dragon, capable of escorting a young lady to a ball and bringing her safely home.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Nanny from the mezzanine landing of the staircase.
She stood next to Marigold, who wore a floor-length gown of shimmering, ivory silk with a fitted bodice, embroidered with gold thread, that hugged her plump, round breasts. Nanny had pinned her hair up in a loose, high bun with golden ringlets tumbling down to frame her pretty, heart-shaped face. Matheson’s breath caught, but his gasp was drowned out by the exuberant exclamations of his brothers.
He had to watch in the background, as the beautiful she-dragon descend the stairs, her eyes sparkling and fixed on Berrin and Polaris. Matheson ground his teeth. She was to be bound to him, not them. A tiny voice in the back of his head, most likely the void created by the absence of papaver, reminded him of all the ways he had antagonized her. Gazing down at her pretty, gold slippers, he swallowed. Did he really expect her to fly into his arms after everything he had said and done?
“You look wonderful!” Berrin lifted her by the waist and swung her around.
Marigold shrieked with delight. “I’ve never worn anything so fine!”
When Berrin placed her on the ground, Polaris took her hand and pressed his lips on her knuckles. “You are a vision of loveliness.”
A deep blush stained her cheeks, and she murmured her thanks. Berrin gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Are you armed?” asked Polaris.
She beamed. “I have a short sword on my garter, a stiletto in my bodice, and two rondel daggers in my hair.” She turned around and pointed at the pretty, diamond-encrusted pommels jutting out from her mass of golden curls. “Nanny showed me how to use them!”
“Good work, Nanny,” said Polaris.
“And don’t forget the spike on your ring,” said Nanny. “One stab of that is enough to incapacitate even a transformed dragon.”
Matheson cleared his throat. “Now that we are assured that Marigold holds more weapons than a knight of old, can we take our leave?”
Marigold threw her arms around Berrin, pressing that lush, silk-clad body against his chest. She gave him a peck on the lips, which turned into two, then three, then a long, heated kiss, complete with blissful moaning. Matheson rolled his eyes at the display. Then, the wench turned to Polaris and kissed him, too. Matheson turned to Nanny, his only ally, who had pursed her lips in disapproval—not at Marigold, but at him—presumably for his lack of progress on the mate seduction front. Matheson huffed. By now, Nanny should have noticed the girl had a fetish for the boring types. When she finished with his brothers, she turned to him.
Matheson’s heart skipped several beats. Surely, she wouldn’t… Blood trickled from his face down to his stirring cock. With the languor and sensuality of a siren emerging from a pool, she sauntered to the other side of the grand staircase where he stood. Matheson’s mouth felt as dry as parched earth, and his pulse beat in time with the throbbing in his breeches.
Her pretty, plump lips parted. “Are we ready to go?”
Disappointment fell onto his shoulders, heavy as a winter cloak, and blood rushed back to his face, gathering around his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He had been an idiot to think she would fall into his arms after everything he had put her through. He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
Matheson held out his arm, and Marigold placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. As they walked towards the front doors, a warm feeling filled his chest. In a few hours, he would have a stronger claim to this she-dragon than anyone else in the world. Even though she despised him at the moment, he would do his utmost to turn her feelings around.
Berrin and Polaris followed them out of the door. It was then that Matheson noticed that they both wore outdoor cloaks and heavy-duty sword belts. He narrowed his eyes. “Where do you two think you’re going?”
“We will follow you to the cabriolet,” said Polaris. “If Uncle Hertz’ bears try to take Marigold away, we will be ready with dragon fire.”
“And the mansion?” asked Matheson.
Berrin walked around and interlaced his fingers with Marigold’s. “All the gold in the world is meaningless without Marigold.”
While his brothers rode behind them in a vehicle of their own, Matheson sat next to Marigold on the plush seats of the ivory carriage Mother and Father used for high-society social events. The seats were made of th
e finest, white kid-skin, trimmed with silver. Marigold stared out of the window, the emeralds adorning her wrist and neck making her look more elegant than any Princess.
Without having Berrin or Polaris around to act as foils, Matheson struggled for something to say. He knew very little about Marigold. Everything he had learned on the day he’d caught her running out of the mansion covered in blood was now a faded memory. He wouldn’t embarrass himself by asking for information she had already shared.
“You do realize that the King’s Blessing needs to be consummated.” He cringed the moment those words had slipped out of his mouth. It was too late to backtrack, because that would make him look weak. Instead, he leered at the luscious breasts peeking out from the top of her embroidered bodice.
“I thought the King’s Blessing would be enough to give you adult status,” she said, still staring out of the window.
“We will still have to consummate it at some point.”
“Why?” She turned on him, her lips twisted, and her eyes as hard as jade.
His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. No female, dragon or otherwise, had ever asked him such a blunt question. Marigold’s eyes flashed like a griffin about to attack. It was clear to even an embittered soul like him that she was nothing like Kaida. Even he had to notice that Marigold had not asked them for anything during her time at the mansion.
He coughed. “I didn’t meant to phrase that like a demand.”
“What did you mean, then?” she spat.
Breaking eye contact first, he muttered, “Forget it.”
“Actually, I can’t.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve been awful to me from the moment we met.”
Shame washed through his insides like rancid vinegar, making him wince. “I was a different dragon, back then.”
“Are you talking about the papaver?”
Swallowing, he gave her the shallowest of nods. He supposed that Berrin had told her all about his debauched lifestyle. He stared down into his lap. “And distilled wormwood.”
“Why would you even take such a thing?” She ranted about the evils of recreational elixirs and what they had done to humans and bears in Boreas. Every word made him shrink further into himself, as she lectured him on the folly of escaping his emotions with substances. Then she asked why he had never considered the effect his actions would have on his family. His head pounded. Although these were all things Nanny had said to him over the years, it stung to hear them from the lips of one so beautiful.
When she paused for breath, he spoke. “You’re right.” He rubbed his temples. “But I don’t do that anymore. Knowing that my presence might have been enough to save Mother and Father is deterrent enough.”
Marigold paused as though appraising his words, and Matheson squirmed, wondering if she would mock him for his weakness. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she tilted her head to the side but Marigold remained silent.
“I-I am not sure how to begin to apologize , but I regret having put you through so much pain,” he said. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Why are you apologizing now?”
He licked his dry lips. “You’re making such a huge sacrifice for this family.”
“I love Berrin, and I’m extremely fond of Polaris.”
He suppressed the urge to comment on what he had seen in the ballroom. It would be counterproductive to disparage Marigold for something he wanted to do with her. “Still, I want to say that I appreciate it… And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
She folded her arms across her chest, and Matheson had to struggle to keep from gaping at the way the movement accentuated her bosom. “For example?”
He clenched his teeth. Why couldn’t she accept his apology and move on? “I know I’ve been hostile towards you—”
“That’s a fancy way to describe choking me so hard I thought I would die!”
“Was it so bad?”
“My voice still isn’t the same after what you did to me.”
Regret knotted in his stomach, and his chest grew heavy, ready to crush his heart at whatever she said next. His recollection of events were scanty, mostly of blood and capturing Marigold who he had been convinced was an assassin. Now, in the cold light of sobriety, he realized how far he had fallen. Not only had he let everyone down with his actions, but he had probably hurt more than just Marigold. His gaze dropped to his hands. “I cannot express—”
“Even when I was locked in the wine cellar, you still wouldn’t shut up about me being a murderer, threatening to call a host of people who would hang or torture me without a trial.”
Nausea slithered up his gullet and he buried his head in his hands. At this stage, anything he said would be meaningless. While he believed every word she had said, he couldn’t fathom how drastically his personality differed while under the influence of papaver and distilled wormwood.
“Then when Polaris said my alibi was the truth, you still carried on being a bastard. Like that time bear shifters stabbed Berrin through the back and tried to maul me.”
He raised his head. “They did what—”
“You know what you said?”
His insides shuddered, and he choked out the words, “I don’t.”
“You asked if we’d had an orgy!”
He slumped forward in his seat, feeling like an unworthy swine. Especially in light of the subsequent advances he had made on her. “Marigold,” he croaked. “No apology could make up for all the sins I have committed against you. But I will do my utmost to win back your favor.”
She turned to the window and stared out into the streets. “You can try.”
The heaviness in his heart lifted. If King Vulcan gave them his blessing, he would have something to work towards: the love of a mate.
The carriage stopped at the gates of the palace, and half a dozen officers of the King’s Regiment stood at the vehicle ’s doors. Matheson handed his invitation to the captain, a tall, coal-haired dragon clad in ruby red. He scanned its contents then his eyes flickered to his face first and then to Marigold’s. “I am sorry for your loss, Sir.”
“Thank you,” Matheson replied. He assumed that everyone in the Regiment had heard about the tragedy surrounding its youngest General.
After the dragon shut the door, Matheson turned to Marigold. “Are you ready to see King Vulcan?”
“Not really.” She fiddled with the diamond encrusted pommels sticking out of her hair.
The carriage stopped at the main entrance, and a footman opened their door. Matheson reached out to give her a reassuring pat but snatched his hand away. “He’s not as intimidating as his title would suggest. Quite friendly, actually. Stay by my side, and I will help you navigate the high society of Igneous.”
She nodded, her eyes bright.
Something he couldn’t describe grabbed at his heart. It was hard to tell whether it was her beauty and vulnerability, or that she looked at him for the first time with eyes that weren’t wide with fear or sharp with scorn. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He had wronged Marigold, and the ball was a perfect opportunity to earn her trust.
He stepped into the moon-lit courtyard and held out his hand to help her out. Ignoring it, she stepped out of the carriage, her slippered feet landing on the red carpet. Matheson pressed his lips together and squared his shoulders from where they had drooped.
Matheson had been to the palace many times. As the heir to one of the two surviving Great Houses of Igneous, he had attended the balls with Mother and Father. He glanced at Marigold, whose face had frozen in an expression of awe. Smiling, he offered her the crook of his arm. “When you’re Lady Auburn, you’ll have to get used to events such as these.”
She sucked in a deep breath and gave him a grim nod. Matheson’s heart sank. Most females would have been dazzled by the prospects of grand balls and glittering social events, but Marigold seemed to feel that it was a chore. Pushing aside suspicions tha
t she found the company objectionable, he led her up the stairs and through the hallway. Guards stood at turnings and stairways, encouraging guests to stick to the red carpet.
In minutes, they reached the open doors of the large ballroom. It was a vast space lit by seven-tiered, crystal chandeliers and tall, gilded floor lamps shaped like fairies holding up round candelabras. The usual high-society sycophants dressed in their finery, waltzed to the strains of a sixteen-piece orchestra. He checked on his mate-to-be. Marigold stared at the mural ceiling, which depicted the four Kings of Igneous, celebrating their victory over the fairies with a grand ball.
Matheson handed his invitation to the Master of Ceremonies, a stout dragon wearing a wig and clad in a variation of the ruby-red King’s Regiment uniform. He peered at the parchment and announced, “Matheson Auburn and his mate, Goldilocks!”
There had been a lull in the music, so eyes turned to them, including a pair he wanted to rip out from their sockets. Uncle Hertz wore a sky blue silk jacket, embroidered with silver threading at the collar and front. The wretch had even tinted his hair blue to match. He draped his arm around a dour-looking Lady Brimstone, who wore a gown of black. She was busy chatting with an oafish bear shifter clad in the same shade of burgundy as the orchestra’s uniform. A buxom female bear shifter stood by the oaf’s side. wearing far too much rouge, talking animatedly to the sour-looking mate of the High Sheriff.
“Look alert,” Matheson muttered into her ear. “Uncle Hertz is standing by the podium with Lady Brimstone, and he’s glaring right at us.”
She whimpered, and a tremble shook her shoulders.
He guided her inside. “What’s wrong? We knew we had to face Uncle Hertz here.”
“It’s the bear shifter,” she whispered. “That’s Lord Arctos, and he’s with the brothel keeper. They’re the only ones who can identify me as Merry Gold!”
Chapter 17
Marigold’s stomach roiled. She locked eyes with the bear shifter who had caused all her problems. Lord Arctos glared back, his amber eyes glinting with malice. His large frame seemed to take up the entirety of her vision, and the sounds of the orchestra faded, replaced with her pulse pounding in her ears. He was probably infuriated because she had defied him again. She gulped. If the bear shifter had been vindictive enough to have her thrown into prison for retrieving her own bracelet, he might want her hanged for stealing the purse of gold coins from the safe under his desk.