Chapter Four
Urien
“This is madness.” Urien dropped into the leather armchair nearest the fireplace, although there was no part of him that felt calm enough to stay sitting for long. “We followed him home like criminals.”
“We were discreet.” Mabon had his laptop balanced on his knees, fingers flying across the keyboard. The glow from the screen made his face look sharper as he focused on it. “No one saw us.”
“That’s not the point.”
Rux prowled the length of the library, six strides to the window, pivot, six strides back to the bookshelves. The same circuit he’d been walking for the past ten minutes. Urien could see Rux’s dragon pushing for control, demanding action, claiming, and immediate possession of what belonged to them.
Urien understood completely. His own dragon sang beneath his skin. Treasure, Treasure, finally found our Treasure.
The heart stone was warm against his chest, a constant reminder that Sam existed, breathed, lived just three miles away in a cottage with a ridiculous cat and curtains that didn’t quite block out the light.
Urien had memorized every detail during those agonizing minutes parked outside - the blue door, the terracotta pots flanking the steps, the oak tree with branches draped over the roof.
Their mate lived in that house alone and unclaimed.
“How long?” Rux stopped pacing and rounded on Mabon. “How long do humans court before…”
“According to this, it could be weeks, sometimes months.” Mabon didn’t look up from his research. “There are stages. Meeting, casual conversation, asking for contact information, texting, asking on a date…”
“Months?” Rux’s voice climbed. “Our fated one is out there unprotected for months while we exchange pleasantries and text messages?”
Urien scrubbed both hands through his hair, the long strands falling forward over his shoulders.
Everything Rux said echoed his own thoughts and his dragon’s protests.
But charging into Sam’s life and announcing he belonged to three dragons he’d never met would send their gentle human running. Or worse – frighten him.
“We can’t just claim him.” Urien forced the words out, hating each one. “He doesn’t know what we are. He wouldn’t understand the bond.”
“Then we can explain it.” Rux gestured sharply. “Show him the heart stones. He’ll understand once he sees…”
“Will he, though?” Mabon finally lifted his gaze from the screen. “Imagine it from his perspective. Three strange men approach you and insist you’re fated to belong to them. That golden stones appeared on their chests the moment they saw you, proving destiny has bound you together forever.”
Rux’s jaw worked.
“He’ll think we’re deranged,” Urien said quietly. “Or dangerous.”
The silence stretched, broken only by the snap and hiss of logs in the fireplace.
Urien’s dragon didn’t care about human sensibilities or logic.
He wanted their Treasure safe, claimed, home with them, where he belonged.
The urge to shift, to fly to that cottage and stand guard, made his muscles ache with tension.
“So what do we do?” Rux finally asked. “Nothing?”
“No, not nothing.” Mabon turned the laptop around, showing a website titled ‘Modern Dating Etiquette.’ “We court him properly. One of us is going to the café tomorrow to order coffee and make conversation.”
“Which one of us?”
/~/~/~/~/
Breakfast wasn’t the slow-paced, comfortable routine it usually was. Urien pushed eggs around his plate, his appetite buried beneath the constant thrum of his heart stone. Across the table, Mabon hadn’t touched his coffee. Rux had already finished two servings and looked ready to demolish a third.
“We just tell him.” Rux set down his fork with enough force to make it clatter. “Simple. Direct. We’re dragons, you’re our fated mate, welcome home.”
Mabon’s coffee cup froze halfway to his mouth.
“Done.” Rux spread his hands. “Why complicate things?”
“We talked about this last night. Because humans don’t know dragons exist.” Mabon set his cup down carefully. “If we reveal ourselves to Sam, he’ll think we’re either insane or dangerous. Possibly both.”
“He’ll see the heart stones…”
“And think we’re wearing some kind of projection device.
” Mabon’s fingers drummed the table. “Or that we’ve doctored images.
There was a documentary about it. CGI, they called it.
Humans explain away what they don’t understand, Rux.
They don’t automatically leap to ‘oh, you must be mythical creatures.’”
Rux’s scowl deepened. “So we shift, then, and show him our dragons.”
“In his cottage?” Mabon’s eyebrows climbed. “The one with the low roof and neighbors on both sides? Brilliant plan. Nothing says ‘don’t be afraid’ like a massive dragon crashing through the ceiling at - what time do humans wake up? Seven? Eight?”
“I don’t know. When does the sun rise?”
“That doesn’t mean that’s when humans wake up, Rux.”
Urien let them argue, his mind circling the same problem from different angles. His dragon knew what to do - dragons had been claiming mates since before humans built their first cities. The instinct ran deeper than thought, an imperative carved into his very bones.
Court. Provide. Protect. Simple. Except nothing about this was simple.
“Gifts,” he said, suddenly.
Both Mabon and Rux stopped mid-argument.
“Treasures.” Urien set down his fork, the solution crystallizing. “It’s what dragons have done for millennia when we find our mates. We court them with gifts, show them that we can provide, and that we value them above our hoard.”
Mabon’s expression shifted, considering. “Traditional courtship, in other words.”
“Dragons understand treasure.” Urien’s pulse quickened, his dragon settling slightly at the rightness of it. “We bring him offerings. Let our actions speak before our words.”
“Yes!” Rux slapped the table hard enough to make the silverware jump. “Gold. Jewels. I’ve got those cufflinks with the rubies - three carats each. And the emerald necklace from Prague. Or wait, what about that golden chalice from…”
“No.” Mabon shook his head. “Think about it. Sam works at a coffee shop and lives in a little cottage. If we show up with priceless gems, we’ll either terrify him or make him think we’re criminals. Or that we’re trying to buy him, which…” He paused. “Actually, is that what we’re doing?”
“We’re courting him!”
“With expensive gifts we’re presenting without explanation. That’s...that might be the definition of trying to buy someone.”
Rux deflated. “Then what constitutes treasure for a 21st century human?”
Silence fell over the breakfast table.
Urien frowned. “Not...gold?”
“Humans use paper currency now,” Mabon said slowly. “And digital transfers. Numbers on screens.”
“That’s ridiculous. Paper isn’t a treasure. You can’t hoard paper.”
“Well, you can, but then they call it ‘hoarding,’ and it requires therapy, apparently.”
“So we give him paper money?” Rux’s voice climbed. “Just... hand him cash like we’re paying him for services rendered?”
“That makes it sound like prostitution.”
“Well, what else do we give him? A gift card?” Rux gestured wildly. “Do humans court with gift cards now? ‘Hello, our fated mate, please accept this plastic rectangle worth twenty currency units at the establishment of your choice’?”
Mabon pulled out his phone, typing rapidly. “There are... websites. For modern dating advice. I was looking at a few last night.”
“You’re consulting the internet, now?” Urien leaned over. “What does it say?”
“‘Ten Tips for a Great First Date.’” Mabon scrolled. “‘Be yourself. Ask questions. Don’t talk about your ex.’” He looked up. “Do we count as each other’s exes?”
“We’re currently in a relationship, so no.”
“What about the dragon I courted in 1647?”
“Nobody cares about your 1647 fling, Mabon.”
“She was a duchess.”
“She was also a dragon, which makes her irrelevant to courting our human Treasure, who doesn’t know dragons exist.”
Rux grabbed the phone. “What else does it say?”
“‘Compliment their appearance but don’t be creepy.’” Mabon reclaimed his phone. “How do we compliment without being creepy?”
“‘Your freckles make my heart stone glow’?”
“That’s extremely creepy.”
“‘I’ve been watching you make coffee, and you’re perfect at it’?”
“Also creepy, very creepy. That’s surveillance, Rux.”
“‘I want to add you to my hoard’?”
“VERY CREEPY!”
Urien dropped his head into his hands. “We’re doomed.”
Mabon kept scrolling, his frown deepening. “‘Don’t come on too strong.’ How strong is too strong? What’s the measurement?”
“I don’t think there’s a literal measurement…”
“‘Take it slow.’ How slow? What’s slow in human terms?” Mabon looked up, genuinely distressed. “We’ve been alive for centuries. Our slow might be their geological timescale.”
“Maybe we should just ask him out,” Urien tried.
“Ask him out where?”
“Dinner?”
“At a restaurant?” Rux looked horrified. “With other humans around? What if someone else looks at him? What if another male tries to court him?”
“Then we’ll politely indicate that he’s spoken for…”
“By breathing fire at them?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of mild intimidation…”
“That’s just fire with fewer steps!”
Mabon held up his phone again. “‘Show genuine interest in their hobbies and passions.’ What are Sam’s hobbies?”
They all looked at each other.
“Coffee?” Rux offered.
“That’s his job, not his hobby.”
“Walking?”
“Everyone walks, that doesn’t count.”
“He has a cat,” Urien said. “I heard him call it Basil. He likes his cat.”
“So we...what? Give him cat toys? ‘Hello, fated mate, I noticed you have a feline, please accept this fuzzy mouse on a string as a token of my eternal devotion’?”
“You’re mocking it, but that actually doesn’t sound terrible…”
“It sounds insane.”
Mabon scrolled further. “‘Be respectful of boundaries.’” He paused. “We watched him from a car for over twenty minutes and got removed by the police. I think we’ve already violated this one.”
“That was reconnaissance.”
“The police called it loitering.”
“We weren’t loitering, we were…” Rux stopped. “What’s the legal definition of loitering?”