8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
P erched on the edge of the bed, Arlo tilted his head, listening for the spray of water against the tiled floor. Assured Itri was still occupied, he leaned over and retrieved the magic compact mirror from the drawer of his nightstand.
He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed. In fact, he kind of wanted Itri to know how much he appreciated all of his thoughtful gifts. This was different, though.
It was personal.
“Can you show me King?” he whispered.
“A memory, or something in the future?” The deep voice that came from the mirror spoke in hushed tones, as if in on the secret mission.
For some reason, this made him giggle. “A memory.” He still didn’t feel good about peeking into the future. It felt too much like challenging fate. “Something happy.”
“Any particular king?”
Oh, right, he should probably be more specific. “Not a real king. Umm, Kingston Mathers?”
“As you wish, sir.”
The reflective surface swirled with a rainbow of bright colors before fading into total blackness. Then slowly, an image began to form, like a short movie clip playing out across the glass.
He stood next to King in the hotel, just beyond the registration desks, both of them practically vibrating with excitement. This particular memory had happened almost a year ago, yet he remembered it as if no time had passed.
That was the day they had been assigned as personal assistants to two of the biggest stars in Hollywood. It also happened to be the day his best friend had met his mate.
He loved that King had found his happily ever after, but fuck, he missed the guy.
And he really didn’t get why Kingston’s mate had left the glitz and glamour of Hollywood for a freaking ranch in west Texas. Granted, as long as the pair were happy—which they seemed to be, in that sappy, nauseating kind of way—he didn’t have to understand it.
“Thank you,” he murmured to the mirror.
The scene instantly dissolved. “Any time, young master.”
Arlo wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you, sir?”
“Just Arlo is fine.”
“As you wish, Just Arlo.”
He rolled his eyes and closed the lid of the compact. Great, he had a magic talking mirror with dad jokes. This was his life now.
And he kind of freaking loved it.
Returning the mirror to the nightstand drawer, he grabbed his phone off the bed and brought up his text logs. Telling his friends about Itri through a group chat probably broke some kind of social etiquette, but he’d meant what he had told his mate.
He had always struggled when it came to talking about feelings, and he tried to avoid it whenever possible.
Naturally, his friends would have questions. A lot of them. If he had to speak out loud, he would stumble over his words and end up blurting out something stupid. This way was better.
ARLO: So, the Heritage Festival is going well. I got a promotion.
Okay, not a strong start. He could build up to his news about Itri, though.
DAMIEN: If the two are related, I don’t know how well the festival is going.
He read the message twice, his grin growing until his cheeks ached. He had met Damien Frost and Storm Black when they had come to the hotel to film scenes for a new gay drama. At first, he’d been totally starstruck by both of them. Within minutes of knowing Damien, however, it was like they had been making mud pies together since preschool.
He also considered it a pretty badass flex to claim a close friendship with one of the biggest actors in the business.
STORM: I don’t know what the Heritage Festival is, but it sounds fun? Either way, congratulations on the promotion!
Arlo chuckled. Kingston’s mate just radiated wholesomeness. Always the diplomat, even if he didn’t truly comprehend the conversation.
KING: What did you do?
A deep sigh bubbled from his lips. He could always count on King to read between the lines.
ARLO: What makes you think I did something?
KING: Because I know you. Congrats on the promotion. Now spill.
Fair, and while nervous, he was dying to tell them. Even though everyone at the hotel knew, no one important to him had heard the news, which meant he didn’t have anyone to gossip with.
ARLO: I kind of met my mate.
The group chat instantly exploded. Ding after ding rang through the bedroom as messages flooded his phone, making it sound like some kind of possessed metal detector.
KING: What?!
KING: Are you serious?!
STORM: That’s awesome! Who is he?
STORM: Wait. Is it a he?
DAMIEN: Tell me everything!
KING: When did this happen?
DAMIEN: Does this have anything to do with the promotion?
KING: Answer me!
STORM: Sorry for assuming. I shouldn’t have done that.
KING: Arlo, I swear to everything holy!
The messages came so rapidly, it made it hard to keep up with them. The fact that he couldn’t stop laughing didn’t help the situation, either. He typed out a quick response, wanting to get the basics out of the way before diving into the rest.
ARLO: He’s male. We met at the festival.
He assumed his friends had read the message, but it was kind of hard to tell with how fast new texts appeared in the chat.
DAMIEN: Name? I need a name!
DAMIEN: Is he hot?
DAMIEN: Are you happy?
STORM: That must have been some party.
DAMIEN: Please tell me he’s hot.
KING: Spill everything!
KING: Now!
Still trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent, his heart somersaulted into his throat when he heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Although he hadn’t done anything wrong, it didn’t feel that way. In fact, it kind of felt like he’d just been caught cheating on a test.
With shaking hands, he typed out a response, trying to cover as much information as he could.
ARLO: I am insanely happy. His name is Itri Lockwood. He’s a dragon shifter. He’s stupid hot and so rich it should be illegal. He also just got out of the shower, so I have to go.
Then he hurriedly cleared the screen and turned his phone to silent. That stopped the notification sounds, but unfortunately, it did nothing to quiet the vibrations as more messages came pouring into the chat.
He was still trying to figure out what to do when Itri entered the room with a towel slung low on his hips. Beads of water glistened across his broad chest, and his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight that spilled through the windows.
Fuck, he was stunning.
Itri studied him for a long time, his expression inscrutable. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” He slid his phone under his leg to muffle the constant buzzing.
The shifter’s eyebrows drew together, and he tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. All good.”
Instead of dropping it like he usually did when Arlo started acting like a spaz—which happened more often than he cared to admit—Itri smirked and sauntered closer.
“Are you going to answer that?”
“Answer what?” He leaned to the side, pressing his leg more heavily against his stupid, traitorous phone.
“Your mobile is buzzing like a chainsaw.”
The dragon shuffled closer, coming to a stop right in front of him. The clean, inviting scent of soap mingled with something uniquely Itri, overwhelming Arlo’s senses and making his head spin.
“N–no, it’s not,” he stammered. His heart jackhammered against his sternum and blood roared in his ears.
“Arlo?”
“Hmm?”
Bending at the waist, Itri planted both hands on the mattress, trapping Arlo between them, and leaned in until his lips hovered a mere inch away. “Who are you texting, dove?”
His breath caught, and a shiver of pure desire tore through him. “No one.”
Itri’s eyebrows winged toward his hairline.
“Okay, yeah, I mean, I was texting someone, but it’s not what you think.”
“I don’t think anything,” his mate responded with effortless calm. “But you seem distressed. Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Nope.” His entire being fucking vibrated when Itri leaned in to nuzzle his cheek. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
His warm breath fanned against the shell of Arlo’s ear, completely undoing the last of his meager defenses. “I was just texting my friends to tell them that we’re mated, and they have questions, but it’s embarrassing, and I didn’t want you to know I was talking about you, even though it wasn’t anything bad, I swear.”
“First off…breathe.” Chuckling, Itri moved to sit beside him on the bed. “I’m honored that you wanted to tell your friends about us.”
Arlo shook his head. “No. Just you. I didn’t tell them anything about our relationship.”
“Ah, I see.” His eyes slid to Arlo’s left thigh. “Hence the incessant messages.”
Nothing in Itri’s tone sounded accusatory, but Arlo still felt guilty. Grabbing his phone, he unlocked the screen and brought up the chat before shoving the device into Itri’s hand.
“Really. Look. It’s not like that.”
“I never said—”
“Just look.”
“Okay, dove.” Itri grinned and brushed Arlo’s hair back from his face. “I’ll look.”
A myriad of different expressions played over his face as he scrolled through the texts, but thankfully, none of them appeared angry. Mostly, he looked amused, and maybe a little confused.
“See?” He said when Itri finished and handed the phone back to him.
Itri nodded. “So, I’m stupid hot ?”
Arlo’s entire face went up in flames, and a groan built in the back of his throat. “Obviously.”
“Your friend Damien would like to know how big my cock is.” He said this in the same way one might reply to a dinner invitation—mildly interested and nothing more. “What will you tell him?”
The crude statement spoken in that smooth, sexy accent finally undid him. With a drawn-out groan, he flung himself face down onto the comforter and writhed in his mortification.
“Is it possible to die of embarrassment?”
Itri chuckled and patted him on the hip. “Does that mean you don’t want to go shopping anymore?”
A high-pitched chirp immediately followed the question.
Arlo lifted his head to find Ari sitting only a few inches away with the most indignant expression on her little face. He shoved upright and grinned at her.
“I didn’t say that.”
While he had been speaking to Ari, the other dragon in the room laughed.
“Then we should probably get on the road,” Itri responded as he rose from the bed. “We have a princess to spoil.”
“I see what you did there.” Somehow, Itri always knew exactly what to say to stop him from spiraling, and he kind of love that. “I’ll allow it.”
While his mate’s easy-going attitude about the situation helped, it didn’t erase what had happened. Full doom-wallowing might have been averted, but he still spent the entire drive into Colorado City intermittently squirming in the driver’s seat every time he thought about it.
He had been prepared for the deranged responses to the news of his mating. In his panic, however, he hadn’t considered the extent of the chaos before shoving his phone at Itri.
The guy casually quoting the texts throughout the car ride did nothing to ease his embarrassment, either. By the time they reached the pet supply store, he doubted his nerves, or his burning cheeks, would ever recover.
“Where do we start?” Itri asked when they stepped through the automatic doors.
Already overwhelmed, Arlo froze, his feet rooted to the floor at the end of the first aisle.
He had no idea what Ari needed, let alone how to prioritize those needs. Food? Itri had said she didn’t have to eat but that she could. A bed? But he kind of liked that she slept beside him on his pillow. Toys? People bought toys for their pets, but he didn’t know what she would like.
Without thinking, he reached up to stroke the top of Ari’s head where it rested on his shoulder. She had burrowed into the collar of his zippered hoodie for warmth, and she had been snoring contentedly there ever since.
Gradually, the tight muscles in his neck and back relaxed, the knot in his chest loosened, and his pulse returned to a more natural rhythm. He could do this. Ari was counting on him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. He didn’t enjoy relying on other people, but Itri was different. His mate never made him feel small or incapable. “What do you think?”
Itri settled his hand on Arlo’s nape and applied gentle pressure to get him walking again. “She’ll need a safe place to stay while you’re working. We don’t want her getting into trouble.”
“Like a cage?”
He wrinkled his nose. While he agreed Ari needed a secure place when he couldn’t supervise her, he didn’t like the idea of locking her up.
“You don’t consider your flat a cage, do you?” Itri brushed his thumb up and down the side of Arlo’s neck in soothing strokes. “A contained place isn’t a punishment. It’s her home.”
When put that way, it made sense. It didn’t have to be some sterile, depressing space with metal bars. Hell, he could build her a whole-ass fairy forest with a little cave for her eventual dragon hoard.
Unsure where to start, he carefully outlined his idea in vivid detail. “Do you think that would work?”
“Absolutely. She’ll love it.” A ridge formed across his mate’s brow. “We can get the basics here, but we’ll need to go somewhere else for the plants. No plastic trees.”
Arlo beamed. “Yes. Exactly.” He loved that Itri only wanted the best for their girl. “So, where do we start?”
“We should pick out a terrarium.”
So, they spent the next hour arguing over the size of the tank. While Arlo agreed he wanted something spacious, he didn’t think they needed a terrarium the size of his freaking sofa. It wasn’t even like Ari would grow into it one day.
Eventually, they reached a compromise. For now, they settled on a small, simple tank that would fit inside his one-bedroom apartment. Something temporary and portable that they could travel with if the need arose. Once they relocated to London, however, Itri had carte blanche to build the most ridiculously elaborate enclosure known to human or Otherling kind.
“Okay, next up…beds!” Arlo bounced on his toes, his excitement building as he scanned the aisles.
With so many options to choose from, he had a hard time deciding what color and style would be the best fit. Ari wasn’t any help, either. She merely eyed the pillows and beds with indifference before curling up on his shoulder again.
His gaze kept drifting back to a plush, round bed with silver fur lining. Grabbing it from the shelf, he spun around and held it up to Itri.
“What do you think about this one?”
Itri grinned, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection.
“The fur will keep her warm, but she can also burrow into it. The high edges provide a sense of safety and privacy.” He took the bed and turned it over, inspecting it thoroughly. “Yes. I think this is the one.”
Arlo knew his mate didn’t give two fucks about any of this, but Itri never showed it. He never grew impatient. He never shrugged or offered noncommittal answers. Rather, he approached each purchase like the most important decision of their lives.
And by the time the cart was overflowing with food bowls, three different kinds of food, organic treats, and enough toys to stock a daycare, Arlo might have fallen just a little in love.
At the register, he fidgeted nervously when the cashier read out the total, but Itri didn’t hesitate before passing his credit card across the counter. It had already been decided on the drive into the city that Itri would be bankrolling this trip, but it still made him feel a little sick.
When he’d voiced his concerns, Itri had patiently reminded him that he’d had almost two thousand years to amass his wealth. That, and he enjoyed spoiling the hell out of him. A lovely sentiment, and honestly, it wasn’t about the money, not exactly. He just didn’t ever want his mate to feel like he expected such things.
“I’ll buy lunch,” he blurted as they finished the transaction and headed for the exit.
A small contribution, a drop in the bucket, but Itri had given him so much. He just wanted—no, he needed —to give something back in return.
Itri frowned, clearly unhappy with the plan, but he didn’t argue. Arlo had learned, however, that silence didn’t always mean he would get his way.
Crossing the parking lot, a flash of color caught his eye, drawing his attention to a building that set slightly apart from the strip mall.
“Sky’s the Limit Adventure Park,” he murmured, reading the sign over the entrance.
His mind latched on and ran with the possibilities. Lunch would be a nice gesture. People always appreciated good food. This was different, though. This was infinitely better.
Instead of just a meal, he could give Itri an entire experience.