Chapter Five
Teige
Oh, the wonders that a pilot’s license and a small passenger airplane could obtain when one had a mind.
Stones were easy enough to obtain—a flight to New York, a clandestine meeting in Texas, and a couriered delivery of prime black marble—marmor Taenarium, a Grecian marble with such distinct patterns in it—permeated with fine flecks of iron oxides and hematite in coquettish and secret slashes of red.
The marble had once belonged to another dragon, his estate still being liquidated—every penny going to make amends for the damage done. And as of the night before, it lined their nest.
And once-solid panels bore intricate carved notches in a latticework pattern, each inset little channel a perfect display in an immense gallery.
Each would be capped in fine glass and lit from behind with a soft glow, which would display each curated stone they wanted.
No treasure they obtained would be so trivial that it would line their nest like gravel.
It’d been a private bath at one time, lining walls and floor, but Teige checked in as the mason—an old wolf who spoke little English, did his craft with focused ease, cutting down tiles and mortaring them into place. “Dragons very fat. Break easy!”
His comment threw Teige off for a moment’s pause. His dragon was fairly trim, Viraj’s a slender and graceful thing, near waifish. Gatlin’s was a beast of a dragon, not rotund but fearsomely large. “Pardon?”
“Mortar. Stronger in time. Much weight, break.” He gestured to the primed surfaces, the shape of their nest rather like a shallow bath, the perfect basin to contain the three, and no one more.
Perhaps eggs one day, if they could adopt.
It was difficult for a Dette to catch a clutch at the best of times, but considering Viraj’s biology—a fertile clutch was an unlikelihood.
Still, they found eggs in the wildlands sometimes.
As the thought consumed him, the mason cleared his throat with a gesture, asking if he understood.
“Magic. I’ll fix.” The mortar they used improved over time, a slow crystalline growth inside improving the strength of it by the day.
“Magic. Pfft! Impatient dragon.” He waved him off as he approached and offered his hand to the stone. Sure, healing was a possibility, and mating could be done, but dragons had skills with stones and metal—a skill Teige had honed.
Like the air in his lungs, he imbibed waves in the air, microscopic sparks of electrons and molecules.
Speeding them up in one way, coaxing them in another, nudging crystalline structure in subtle ways.
A touch of Teige’s fingers sent a shock through the stone, the change imperceptible, but the scent in the air of the rapid dehydration of mortar, the scent of heated lime, and not an ounce of epoxy, limestone, magnesia, alumina, and iron oxide.
The finest particles of silica, to keep from scratching the marble, settled in the cracks.
Powdered volcanic ash piqued his senses, a unique compound that had grown out of favor since cheaper compounds came available—ones not meant to last as long as Roman pillars. For dragons, longevity was key.
A grumbled swear ended the discussion, and the mason went back to inspecting the crevices and cleaning up where necessary. His assistant milled about with a buffer, eager to get started.
As Teige straightened his sleeves and glanced about, satisfaction warmed his belly. “See to it that it’s ready soon.”
“Live forever, impatient for a minute.” The wolf mason rolled his eyes, muttering. “Dragons.”
Forever was an overstatement. A dragon aged as slowly as their magic allowed, never faster. Never slower. “I suppose the downside to living so long is that we never truly grow up.”
“Forever child.” The mason nodded and smiled.
“Forever stupid,” Teige agreed, and left to find Gatlin. He’d been in his workshop half the evening working on the new stones to line their nest. It was high time.
Teige strode through the estate, goal in mind as he slipped into the workshop, the scent of his smelter strong, flux burning his nose. “A stór!”
“Nil! Don’t ye’ come in here gabbin’ about calling me your treasure!” Gatlin glanced up, his hunched frame looming over a jeweler’s lap as he squinted at the jewel on his dop. “Having to recut this feckin’ black emerald.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t cut a girdle into it, so it has edges that are weak.
Black emerald is not clean emerald, and this was a nightmare waiting to happen.
” He flexed the armature of the stone holder and frowned before rotating it ever so slightly and lowering it down to the wheel once more for a hissing grind.
“Going to take it one step above the final. Matte girdling…beautiful.” When Gatlin got his mind on something, there was no convincing him otherwise.
It was part of the reason Teige loved him, after all.
“Can I ask for an ETA? If you don’t know, it’s okay. The mason has completed his work.” Teige grinned as Gatlin’s head swiveled around, hand poised with the dop hovering just above the grinding plate. With a quick press, hiss, and lift, he glanced down, eyes narrowed.
Gatlin held up a hand, a single finger raised as he twisted the dop and lowered it once more. Another lift, twist, and press, and he glanced down, face twisted. “It’ll never be good enough…”
He sighed and turned the machine off, unattached the dop, spit a little flame to melt the resin, and cleaned the stone off with a cloth.
And with a quick turn, he pulled out his burnishing tool and popped something into his vise, completely zoning out again before he unwound the vise and dropped the resulting trinket from his fingers into an ultrasonic cleaner before tapping a button to bring it to life.
Teige itched at his ears as the hum of it tickled his brain. But it didn’t last long before Gatlin plucked the treasure from its bath and beamed. “A treasure truly fit for our Dette.”
A soft gasp from the doorway had Teige wheeling around, heart stuttering.
“When?” Viraj’s broken voice interrupted the silence.
“When, what?” Gatlin palmed the trinket in his grasp, stepping forward.
“When did you plan on telling me you’d found a Dette? When do they get here? When did you plan to introduce them?” Viraj’s broken voice trembled.
“There isn—” Gatlin flinched when Viraj sobbed.
“Don’t lie to me!” He rubbed at his eyes.
“Ach, siúcra.” Teige rubbed at his nose. “Love, there is no Dette coming. We—”
“Then what?” Viraj tensed up, face a mask of pure fury.
He’d gotten testy before over the mention, sad, besot with himself, but never furious.
His dragon flared in his eyes, and a territorial aura grabbed Teige by the heartstrings, as if their bond tightened, threatening to snap.
And by the way Gatlin grabbed his chest, he felt it too.
“We’re doing what we shoulda’ done years ago. Talked wit the pof doctor an’ it’s what yer due! Yer all we need, Vivi.” Gatlin kept the trinket in his hand as he approached.
“Then what was that comment about treasure fit for our Dette? You have someone off to the side? Making deals for just a heat to bring home eggs to our nest like here, they’re yours now, love?” Flame sparked over Viraj’s lips as he spoke.
“Feic no!” Gatlin pushed Teige out of the way as he invaded Viraj’s space. His natural instinct to challenge had him towering over Viraj, nostrils flared, eyes growing just as heated. “Will you listen?”
Viraj pushed him back, face twisted, cheeks flushed with rage.
“Yeah, alright. Enough. You said it’s ready, Tay?” Gatlin glanced over at Teige and sneered, a tremble in his features—barely holding scales at bay.
“They were packing up the tools, yes.” Teige hoped it’d been enough time. There wasn’t any gravel in the nest or soft blankets. The cleanup hadn’t been completed…
“Good enough.” Gatlin lunged forward and snagged Viraj by his waist. With a single gesture, he settled the seething male over his shoulder and locked his thighs with one arm and reached around for a flat-handed smack over the fullness of his ass.
“Come on! If you’re going to have a tantrum, let’s go somewhere where we can settle it like adults. ”
“I don’t want to settle things the way you want to settle them, asshole!” Viraj flailed and yelped when another slap rang out, his protest ebbing. With the right word, Gatlin would put him down and it’d be over, but until then, Gatlin knew best.
“Then continue on screeching, by all means, Vivi. We’re going to tear your arse up after all this hollering about.
” Gatlin trucked his way toward their hoard, footsteps making no effort to fall lightly, every one made with purpose and irritation.
And while Gatlin may have been the calmer of the three, his temper had specific niches it liked to flare within.
“I’ll scream as much as I like! It’s my house!” Viraj struggled and cried out with another sharp smack of hand to ass.
“It’s our house. My name is on the deed as much as yours.
We’re mated, Vivi. As much as you want to twist our bond when you are havin’ one on, it won’t change it.
” Gatlin turned a corner past their bedroom and toward a maintenance elevator, pressing buttons to send them down, the scent of fresh masonry growing stronger by the moment.
“And every time you go on about bringing a Dette into the house, I regret that decision more!” Viraj struggled as the doors clanged and motors whirred, taking them the several floors down where their hoard lay.
And it wasn’t clean yet, nor were all the tools packed away, but it was completed.
Every gleaming surface shone with purpose and intent.
The best work anyone could boast they’d done in a week.
Teige huffed and crossed his arms. “And I regret ever bringing it up! You whinge about wanting pups and that’s all I wanted to offer you. ”
“Don’t put this on m—” Viraj choked as Gatlin leaned forward and dropped him ass first onto the dusty floor.
“A moment, please?” Teige smiled at the artisan who signaled his assistant, and they gathered an armload of things to leave.
Viraj knew better than to quarrel and bicker before staff, so his silence stretched on, growing in intensity until the elevator doors clanged. “Do not put this search for a Dette on my head. You know I can’t stand the thought of—I don’t want to share.”
Gatlin knelt down, pulling something from his pocket, extending it toward Viraj.
In his fingers clasped a beautiful gold earring set with a large black emerald, gleaming and well-faceted with the matte girdle.
It was all the difference in the world, that little touch.
He stared as Viraj took in the piece, eyes flashing with a mien of greed that simmered within him.
“This is a jewel I picked for you. I finished it off and crafted an earring for you.”
Viraj stared, breath caught.
“And Teige outbid a dozen others on the materials for your nest and brought out the best mason his money could buy.” Gatlin gestured at the nest. “Once it’s cleaned and filled, it’ll be fit for a nest for you. You are the only Dette we ever need, Vivi.”
The pained look on Viraj’s face twisted as if he were going to break into tears and halted, something inside him warring with itself.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times while Gatlin roughly worked one of Viraj’s earrings free to replace with the other, the smooth weight of it as beautiful as anything a Dette would wear. “Do you understand?”
Viraj shook his head ever so gently.
“Gat…” Teige gave a warning whisper, but words had been spoken aloud.
Viraj stared, body trembling.
Gatlin sniffed and nuzzled into Viraj’s neck. “Gaspard had things to say.”
Teige flinched, and the next words out of Gatlin’s mouth could very well break their mate.
And Teige didn’t know if he could be fixed.