Chapter Six
Notalus
He’s the One
Notalus was used to being in control of any situation he encountered, but being in Dustin’s presence again, in his home, was messing with his mind.
He struggled to focus when the object of his desire was right there within arm’s reach.
He’d waited eleven months to hear his voice again, praying he was who he believed him to be.
A year wasn’t long at all to an immortal, so it surprised Notalus that he’d missed him so much in such a short amount of time.
Dustin continued to watch him as he walked around his quaint home, taking in everything he could that might give him some insight into the man that Notalus was nervous to get too close to, unsure of what he might do when he got lost in eyes that were the perfect shade of oak.
Dustin made him feel things that he hadn’t in years—romantic feelings that should be gone.
Notalus had been content to hand over his kingdom to his heir and live out his days alone, in peace. He’d known love and experienced it enough that he was fine going the rest of his life without it. Or he’d thought so. Until his brown-eyed beauty appeared.
Notalus stopped at a bookshelf that had about ten titles on it, and the remaining shelf space was lined with framed photos of Dustin in various parts of the world…
farming. Every photo was of him in some sort of field or orchard with an abundant harvest surrounding him.
Notalus was astounded to see that Dustin had been planting and tending to the earth since he was a young boy and still had no clue who he was.
Notalus assumed the strapping man in the dingy overalls with his arms around an adolescent Dustin was his father. Where is his mother?
Notalus continued to observe while Dustin rested.
Technically his services were no longer needed, but he pretended to be too consumed with his perusing to leave.
Dustin’s cabin smelled similar to his own private quarters, like all the scents that reminded him of home—crisp fall air, a touch of rain, firewood, and a hint of leather.
There wasn’t much furniture but for a couch and recliner positioned in front of an old television that Notalus assumed Dustin didn’t turn on often.
In a dark corner was a large unmade bed that was littered with tattered quilts.
Notalus imagined Dustin’s big, heavy body in that bed, preferably on top of him, causing his cock to jerk with enthusiasm for the first time in too long.
Notalus’ steps faltered as he stared at a six-by-nine photo encased in a worn black frame of Dustin holding a pot of one the rarest plants in the world in full bloom. Notalus blinked repeatedly, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“That was my pride and joy right there. I’ve only grown one in my lifetime, but I fully intend to grow another before I leave this world.” Notalus could hear the honor in Dustin’s voice, and he should be.
“This orchid’s vegetative stage is fifteen years before it will produce a bloom.
And even then, it takes a very special individual to make it flower.
” Notalus sighed, fingering the miraculous image.
He’d thought the Rothschild orchids that he’d gifted to humans all of those years ago had gone extinct, having no one to care for them as they should.
Now they could only be found in the highest elevations of Fhomhair.
“Yes, I know. I cared for that flower as if it was my own newborn pup.” Dustin shrugged. “I suppose my plant babies are as close as I’ll ever get to having children.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not at all.” Dustin shrugged again. “I’m just fine with my gardens. They keep me fulfilled and plenty busy. Besides, there’s more than enough pups running around here.”
Notalus turned and faced Dustin with his hands clasped behind his back. “May I ask why gardening? What is the appeal?”
Dustin eyed him with suspicion. “I think you already know what plants personally do for the heart and soul. And I doubt I have to explain to you, of all people, the benefits they have on this Earth.”
Notalus nodded slowly. “How many others here feel the way you do?”
Mixed feelings orbited Dustin’s mind. “Not many. I think most of the shifters find my obsession with farming rather strange. I mean, the hands I have are great—I couldn’t maintain all of these fields without them—but I know it’s none of their passion… merely their pack duties.”
“You are the only one willing to risk your life for them.”
“That was a fool thing I did that almost got me killed. I’m sure my alpha will have a fitting punishment for disobeying his orders.”
Notalus clenched his fist behind him as he ground his molars to keep from expressing how much he disliked the sound of anyone disciplining Dustin, but it wasn’t his place to disagree. Yet. “How long have you lived here in these mountains with the Volkov alphas?”
Dustin narrowed his eyes in thought before he answered. “Almost nine years. I was roaming around a while after I left my last pack, when I got word that the Volkovs’ lands were expanding and they needed more shifters to help them build. Needless to say, I volunteered.”
Notalus smiled, knowing now why he was so drawn to Dustin Constus Hill. Why he’d been able to hear his call for help in another realm. “And did you ever stop to wonder how you got so many different species of plants and crops to grow in such harsh mountainous conditions?”
Dustin chuckled a rich, gritty sound that made Notalus warm. “My father told me I was born with a green thumb. Just lucky in the gardening department, I guess.”
Notalus would’ve laughed at the absurdity of a so-called “green thumb” if Dustin wasn’t serious.
The man had no idea who he was a descendant from.
Notalus would need to return home to get the proof of his assumption, but he believed Dustin’s middle name, Constus, was translated from Consus.
As in Consus, the minor Roman goddess of the grain and harvest. Notalus thought Dustin might be a great descendant of one of the most coveted goddesses from the Realm of Autumn.
Exactly the kind of man he’d been longing for for over two thousand years.