Chapter One #2
WHERE? Where did he go? FIND HIM. He was just HERE. Right here! He can’t just DISAPPEAR. That’s not allowed. Treasures aren’t allowed to disappear. Find him. FIND HIM NOW.
The heart stone was real, it was burning under his shirt, but it was totally useless at providing any directions on where to start his search.
“Okay. Okay.” Rux pressed both palms against his chest, trying to physically contain his dragon through sheer force of will. It didn’t work. It had never worked, but hope sprang eternal. “He was walking in that direction. So he probably kept walking in that direction. Basic logic. Sound reasoning.”
OR he turned down a side street, and we’ll never see him again, and we’ll die alone and unmated and…
“We have two mates already.” A passing jogger gave him a wide berth, but Rux didn’t notice. He walked faster, then did that weird, not-quite-running thing that made him look like he was late for an appointment rather than hunting for a stranger he’d seen for exactly forty-five seconds.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession because, of course, Mabon would choose that exact moment to check on grocery acquisition status.
Rux ignored it. He had more important things to worry about than bread, eggs, and whether he’d remembered the organic flour.
He had to find their fated one, had to see him again.
He had to make sure that the man was real and not some kind of stress-induced hallucination brought on by a century of searching.
The phone buzzed again, and again.
Answer it, his dragon demanded. Tell them. TELL THEM WE FOUND HIM.
“I didn’t find him. I lost him.”
Semantics.
Rux pulled out his phone without slowing his pace. Five texts from Mabon, each one growing increasingly concerned about grocery items.
Did you get the bread?
Rux?
The organic eggs are important. Did you remember?
Are you alright?
RUX!
He should answer and explain that he’d just experienced the most important moment of their collective lives and then immediately ruined it by losing their Treasure within sixty seconds like some incompetent dragon with no tracking skills whatsoever.
Instead, he typed: Busy. Emergency. Will explain later
Then he shoved his phone back in his pocket and kept walking, eyes scanning every doorway, side street, and window of every shop.
His dragon prowled restlessly beneath his skin.
We’re very bad at this.
For once, Rux couldn’t disagree. He broke into a run.
The street curved ahead where his mate - because that’s what the man was - had disappeared.
Tourists clogged the sidewalk, moving with that particular aimless drift of people with nowhere urgent to be.
Rux shouldered past a family posing for photos and ignored the indignant squawk from someone he’d jostled.
His dragon clawed beneath his skin.
Find him. Track him. HIS SCENT…
But there were too many scents. Coffee, exhaust fumes, and someone’s overpowering cologne, a bakery pumping out cinnamon and sugar, and the autumn leaves rotting in the gutter.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Move.”
Rux reached the corner where the street branched into a narrow lane lined with boutiques and cafes. More tourists. A busker with a guitar. Three teenagers were blocking the sidewalk while they argued about which restaurant to try.
No wavy brown hair. No cable-knit sweater. No soft middle or wire-rimmed glasses or…
The heart stone pulsed again, sending heat cascading through his ribs.
Rux spun around, scanning faces. His height gave him an advantage, so he could see over most of the crowd. A blonde woman carrying shopping bags. Two men holding hands as they debated over a window display. A mother wrestling with a stroller.
He was right there a moment ago.
Rux’s phone kept buzzing repeatedly in his pocket.
His mates were persistent like that. Rux ignored it, moving further down the lane, checking doorways, peering through even more shop windows.
The dragon snarled its frustration, demanding he shift and use his real senses to track their Treasure properly…
But he couldn’t, not with witnesses, council laws, and the very real possibility of causing a panic.
“Dammit.”
He’d lost him. He’d lost their fourth after seeing him for barely a blink. A hundred years of searching, and Rux had let him slip away like water through his fingers.
The heart stone’s pulse didn’t fade. If anything, it burned hotter. Proof that somewhere in town, their fourth mate existed. Walked, breathed, and smiled at his phone screen, completely unaware that three dragons were now bound to him. Well, that Rux was bound to him, at least.
You should’ve grabbed him. Should’ve claimed him right there. Mine. MINE.
Except that grabbing random men off the street qualified as kidnapping in modern society, and Mabon had very firm opinions about following human laws.
Rux’s phone buzzed again. He pulled it out with shaking hands.
The only emergency here is the lack of bread Rux. Urien’s getting cranky
Three more missed texts from Mabon and one from Urien demanding to know where his chocolate torte was.
Normal concerns except nothing was normal anymore.
Rux pressed his palm flat against his chest again, feeling the heart stone’s warmth. That was real – it wasn’t a hallucination. That meant he had seen their Treasure, and then lost him in a crowd of tourists.
“Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant.”
A woman passing by gave him an odd look. Rux realized he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, talking to himself, one hand pressed to his chest as if he was having a medical emergency. He forced himself to breathe and tried to think past the dragon’s howling demands.
The man had been carrying a coffee, walking with purpose, before he’d stopped at that window.
Local, maybe? Or familiar enough with Dinetell to move through it comfortably.
It was a small town, and it wasn’t like there were many places where their Treasure could go.
Rux could find him again, no, he would find him again. I have to.
/~/~/~/~/
Rux took the curves faster than a rally driver, gravel spraying as trees blurred past. The Range Rover’s engine roared in protest as he downshifted into the turn by the stone gates, tires squealing.
Abandoning the vehicle in the circular drive - motor running, door open - he sprinted for the house.
“Mabon!”
The front door banged against the wall. Rux’s boots thundered across marble floors.
“MABON!”
His mate’s office door stood ajar. Rux shoved through it, chest heaving, still clutching his phone.
Mabon sat behind his mahogany desk, laptop open, clearly mid-video conference. Three faces filled the screen - Tokyo investors in crisp suits. Mabon’s expression shifted from concentration to alarm.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me for one…”
“I found our Treasure!”
The words exploded out. Rux crossed to the desk, yanked his shirt collar down to expose the glowing heart stone still pulsing golden light against his skin.
Dead silence from the laptop speakers.
Mabon’s eyes went wide. His fingers froze above the keyboard.
“You...what?”
“Our Treasure. I saw him. In town. Right outside Harrison’s and the stone just…” Rux pressed his palm to his chest again, feeling the warmth. “It lit up, and my dragon knew, and I chased him, but there were too many tourists, and I lost him in the…”
“You WHAT?”
The bellow came from the garden doors. Urien stormed through them, soil streaking his forearms, a trowel still gripped in one hand, and his blue eyes so dark they were almost navy.
“Did you just say…?” Urien stopped and stared at Rux’s chest. The unmistakable glow of the heart stone told them all they needed to know.
“Oh.”
Mabon stood so quickly his chair rolled backward. He moved around the desk, one hand already reaching for the stone, fingers hovering just above Rux’s skin.
“It’s real.” Wonder colored Mabon’s voice. “After all this time, it’s actually…”
A polite cough came from the laptop.
“Mr. Mabon? Shall we reschedule?”
Mabon didn’t even glance at the screen. “Yes. Reschedule. Everything. Cancel my afternoon. Week. Month if necessary.”
He slapped the laptop closed.
Urien dropped his trowel. It hit the Persian rug with a muffled thud. “Where?” His voice came out rough. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I lost him near the boutiques on Ashford Lane, but he had coffee, and he was walking like he knew where he was going, so maybe he’s local? He has to be local. Brown hair. Glasses. These freckles across his nose and the most amazing…”
“Keys.” Urien turned toward the door. “Where are the keys?”
“In the Rover, it’s still running.”
Mabon grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. Urien was already moving, dirt-streaked and determined.
“Wait…” Rux jogged after them. “I should probably mention I have no idea what his name is or where exactly…”
“That doesn’t matter.” Mabon’s hand closed around Rux’s wrist, dragging him toward the front door. “We’ll find him. Search every street if we have to.”
They piled into the Range Rover - Urien behind the wheel, Mabon riding shotgun, Rux sprawled in the back. Urien reversed hard before swinging the vehicle around to take off back down the driveway.
“Describe him again.” Mabon twisted in his seat. “Everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
Rux closed his eyes, pulling up the memory. “Shorter than us. Maybe five-six? Round face, glasses - wire-rimmed, I think. Freckles. Brown hair, kind of wavy. He was wearing this cream sweater and carrying coffee, and he had this smile that just…”
His heart stone blazed, and all three of them felt it. Mabon reached over and squeezed Urien’s knee – a wordless reassurance they’d been giving each other for a century. It was as familiar as Rux’s hand on the back of his neck.