Chapter Nine
Mabon
Mabon walked into the Daily Bean with confidence.
He’d done his research. Negging - when used correctly - created attraction by demonstrating value while keeping the target from becoming complacent.
The article had been very specific: Keep it playful.
Never cruel. The goal is to intrigue, not to wound.
Sam stood behind the counter, restocking cups. He looked up when the bell chimed, and his face brightened into that smile that made Mabon’s heart stone pulse beneath his shirt.
“Hi! Back again?”
“Couldn’t stay away from the coffee.” Mabon approached the counter, channeling casual charm. “I’ll have whatever you recommend.”
“Really?” Sam’s expression suggested he was pleased. “Most people already know what they want.”
“I trust your judgment.”
Sam ducked his head, ears going pink. “I, um. I’d probably go with the maple latte. It’s seasonal.”
“I’ll have that, thanks.”
While Sam prepared the drink, Mabon rehearsed the line. Gentle teasing. Just a playful observation. He needed to show Sam he was interesting enough to merit attention, but keep him engaged.
Sam set the cup on the counter. “One maple latte. I added cinnamon because it brings out the…”
“It’s a bit basic though, isn’t it?”
The words came out before Mabon could stop them.
Sam’s pleased expression crumbled into something hurt, and his eyes - those warm brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled - went flat.
“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “I suppose it is.”
Panic shot through Mabon’s chest like ice water.
“No, I didn’t mean…” He reached across the counter. “That came out wrong. I meant the concept of seasonal flavors in general is ubiquitous, not that your choice was…”
“It’s fine.” Sam’s voice had gone decidedly professional. “That’ll be three seventy-five, unless you’d prefer I make you something else.”
“Sam, please, I was trying to…” Mabon fumbled for his wallet. His dragon roared its fury at the thought of causing their Treasure pain. “I’m terrible at small talk. What I meant was that traditional autumn flavors are popular because they’re comforting, and comfort is valuable, and…”
“Really, it’s fine.” Sam held out his hand for payment, not meeting Mabon’s eyes.
Mabon’s hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. Bills scattered across the counter. He grabbed one without looking and shoved it toward Sam.
“Keep the change. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He fled.
Behind him, he heard Sam’s confused voice: “Mabon, this is a hundred dollars. Mabon?”
Mabon made it to the Range Rover before his hands started shaking.
“That went well,” Rux said from the driver’s seat, his voice carefully neutral.
Mabon pressed both palms against his knees, willing them steady. “I called his coffee basic.”
“We know.”
“He looked hurt.” The word came out strangled. “I watched our Treasure’s face fall, watched him pull away, and I kept talking…”
His voice cracked.
A full life of carefully cultivated control, of managing investments worth millions, of negotiating with paranormal councils and human corporations alike - and he’d reduced himself to babbling corporate nonsense at the one person who actually mattered.
“The website said it would create intrigue,” Mabon said quietly. “Playful teasing to keep him from becoming complacent.”
“The website was written by idiots,” Urien said from the back seat.
“I know that now.”
Silence settled in the vehicle. Outside, the Daily Bean’s cheerful lights mocked him. For all he’d done in his life, and Mabon had done plenty, he couldn’t figure out how to apologize to a barista without sounding like he was proposing a merger.
“I need to fix this,” Mabon said.
“How?” Rux asked.
“I don’t know.” Mabon’s chest ached where his heart stone blazed, insistent. “But I will. I have to.”
Because the alternative - living with the memory of Sam’s hurt expression, knowing he’d caused it - was unthinkable.
/~/~/~/~/
The library felt like a tomb. Mabon sat with his head in his hands while Rux paced and Urien stared into the fireplace.
“I called his coffee basic,” Mabon said again, as if repetition would somehow make it less catastrophic. “I saw it hurt him, and I still kept talking.”
“You panicked,” Urien said.
“I wounded our Treasure. I watched his smile disappear, and I caused it.”
Rux stopped pacing. “Didn’t you say the website claimed it would create attraction?”
“The website was written by idiots who don’t understand humans any better than we do.” Mabon’s dragon clawed at his chest, demanding he return to Sam and grovel until forgiven. “He looked so hurt.”
“You apologized,” Urien offered.
“I threw money at him and ran away.”
“That’s not ideal,” Rux admitted.
Mabon lifted his head. His heart stone sat cold and dark beneath his shirt, as if ashamed of its bearer’s behavior. “Humans are complicated.”
“Extraordinarily so.”
“Maybe we should just be ourselves?” Urien suggested, though his voice lacked conviction.
“But being ourselves doesn’t seem to be working either.” Mabon gestured helplessly. “I’m myself, and I insult him. Rux is himself and drinks enough coffee to kill a mortal. You’re yourself and accept pity cookies.”
“When you list it that way,” Rux said slowly, “we sound deranged.”
“We are deranged. We’re predators trying to court a human who deserves someone who knows how to speak to him without causing pain.”
The fire crackling broke the silence. Outside, wind moved through the garden, rustling leaves that Urien had been too distracted to tend properly for days.
“We need to understand his world better,” Urien said finally.
Mabon looked up. “What?”
“We keep approaching this from our perspective – dragon courtship combined with human dating advice.” Urien turned from the fire. “But we don’t actually know anything about Sam’s life - how he lives, what matters to him, and more importantly, what he needs.”
“He keeps his cottage tidy,” Rux offered. “Feeds his cat premium food. Waters the plants by his door every evening.”
“All we know is from watching him walk past windows,” Mabon said. “That’s not the same as understanding.”
“So we learn.” Urien’s expression hardened. “Properly. We see how he lives, what his days look like, and more importantly, what brings him joy.”
“You mean more surveillance,” Mabon said flatly.
“I mean observation.” Urien crossed his arms. “We’re approaching courtship blind, making guesses, fumbling in the dark, and hurting him in the process. If we understood his world - really understood it - we’d know how to fit into it.”
Rux stopped pacing. “You want to watch his routine?”
“I want to see his life. The parts we’re missing from brief encounters at a coffee shop.” Urien looked between them. “Then we’ll know how to court him properly.”
Mabon’s dragon stirred with approval. Knowledge was power.
“It’s creepy,” Mabon said.
“It’s practical.”
“We’re already leaving him gifts and following him home.”
“Exactly. We’re already behaving questionably. We might as well make it productive.”
/~/~/~/~/
The hedge smelled funky, and Mabon shifted his weight, feeling a branch dig into his spine. His expensive trousers were covered in mud. Something that might have been a spider crawled across his hand.
“This feels creepy,” Rux whispered from somewhere to Mabon’s left.
“Very creepy,” Mabon agreed, adjusting his binoculars.
“Extremely creepy,” Urien added. He’d wedged himself between two bushes and looked like a miserable shrub with arms.
None of them moved.
Through the binoculars, Mabon watched Sam’s kitchen window. Sam stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Basil sat on the counter despite what were surely health code violations in spirit if not actual law.
“He’s cooking,” Mabon reported.
“What’s he making?” Rux hissed.
“How should I know?”
“You have the binoculars!”
“I can see pasta. It’s pasta.” Mabon lowered the binoculars. “This is absurd. We’re absurd.”
“Completely absurd,” Urien confirmed. A twig stuck out of his hair.
“Should we leave?” Rux asked.
No one answered.
Sam lifted the pot to drain it. Steam fogged his glasses. He set everything down, removed his glasses, and wiped them on his shirt.
All three heart stones glowed in unison.
“He’s adorable,” Rux breathed.
“Focus,” Mabon snapped, though his own dragon preened at the sight of their mate performing domestic tasks. “We’re gathering information. Not...swooning.”
“I’m not swooning.”
“You’re definitely swooning.”
“Sam just put his glasses back on and stumbled into the counter. If that’s not swoon-worthy…”
“Shh!” Urien grabbed both of them. “He’s looking this way.”
They froze. Sam peered out the window, squinting into the darkness.
Mabon held his breath. Beside him, Rux had gone completely still. Urien’s fingers dug into Mabon’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.
After an eternal moment, Sam shrugged and returned to his pasta.
“That was close,” Rux exhaled.
“We should go,” Mabon whispered.
“Definitely should go.”
“Absolutely should go.”
Sam pulled a container of cherry tomatoes from his refrigerator and started slicing them with a vegetable knife.
“Five more minutes,” Urien said.
Mabon nodded. “Five minutes.”
“Are you sure this isn’t creepy?” Urien whispered.
“Technically…” Mabon tilted his hand one way and then the other. “But from a dragon perspective, I’d call this a necessity.”