Chapter Eighteen
“Did you know?” Jimryr leaned against the wall of Zorah’s garage. The scent of motor oil, pot smoke, and other now-familiar scents hung in the air. He’d never gotten the hang of smoking himself or felt the need. Smoke should leave a dragon’s throat, not go down the other way.
“Did I know what?” Zorah looked up from tinkering with her Electra Glide’s engine, wiping her hands on a cloth so stained it must be transferring more oil onto Zorah’s skin than it removed.
“Did you know the man I called Griff, the wounded dragon from Alabama, is actually Daire Thorne? Prince Daire Thorne? An honest-to-goodness motherfucking prince?”
“I suspected one or more of the Thornes might’ve escaped to Terra after the battle that brought you here.” Zorah answered calmly—too calmly.
“You didn’t feel the need to share with the class?”
“Why should I? I only had suspicions, and we’re in the human world where there’s no dragon royalty. You’re simply two betas who spend a bit of time together. Why should I interfere?”
Jimryr growled, his impotent fury needing an outlet. “There might not be royalty here, but there sure as hell is royalty back home. I’m an un-courted dragon, a nobody—”
The fury in Zorah’s glare stopped Jimryr’s tirade.
She rose to her full height. “You’re not a nobody.
And you won’t disrespect the court I’ve spent years building.
If you want to leave, say the word, but for now you are a part of the best damned group of dragons I’ve ever known!
When we go home—when, not if—I’ll deal with anyone who dares disrespect a member of my court.
Got it? I don’t care what their damned rank is! ”
Wow. No one had ever defended Jimryr so fiercely. Not even Mystral. She’d have whapped him upside the head and said, “Get over yourself.”
Jimryr hung his head. “Sorry. Ever since I found out, it’s all I can think of, how he’s a prince, and I’m nothing. His family would shun me if they knew.”
“Hey, look here, asshole!” Zorah snapped.
Jimryr obeyed.
“I’ve met his father. I didn’t recognize the king at the time because he was busting his ass mucking out a stall with his stable hands, dressed in ragged pants and a shirt most would’ve thrown out.
In his younger days as a new king, he often went out among his people to meet them, figure out their needs, and provide.
The most decent dragon I’ve ever met, even if he did smell of animal shit at the time. ”
Jimryr could imagine Daire doing the same. “What if he wants nothing more from me after we put his brother on the throne?”
“For one, if he’s that shallow, he doesn’t deserve you,” Zorah snapped. “For another, how many lovers only wanted a night’s fun? Just because they’re in your bed doesn’t obligate them to stay there. They have their own lives and goals.” The last part sounded like she quoted someone else.
Ouch. Sounded like Jimryr hit a nerve. “Was there someone special in your life?”
He wouldn’t have been surprised if Zorah’s snort produced flame.
“I’m old. Of course there is. He has a high moral code, and what humans call a crusade.
Because I love him, I do my best to understand.
Maybe one day he’ll come back to me.” Zorah lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“If he doesn’t, I’ve got memories, life goals of my own.
I’d love to have him with me, but my life isn’t contingent on him being here. ”
“I stand corrected.”
Zorah’s expression softened. “Sorry if I was harsh.”
“No, you said exactly what I deserved.” Sometimes one swift kick in the ass beat a million platitudes.
Zorah grabbed Jimryr, pulling him into a hug. “Never put down one of my friends again, understand?”
Jimryr pulled back, a bit out of breath from the exuberant embrace. Bear hugs had nothing on dragon hugs. “I promise.”
“Good.” Zorah gave a decisive nod. “Someone spotted two betas and an omega in Asheville, North Carolina while you were gone. I sent Fen after them.”
“Fen? Oh, crap, she—”
Zorah placed two fingers over Jimryr’s lips. “What did I tell you about bad-mouthing my friends? The new dragons are a throuple. If anyone can approach them on their own terms, it’s Fen.”
This could prove interesting. “How do her current lovers feel about her approaching them?”
“To paraphrase a human saying, ‘Fen’s bed is like a loving heart. There’s always room for one more.’ Or in this case, possibly three more.”
“How would anybody get any sleep?” Jimryr wondered aloud. He’d lost plenty of sleep lately—not that he’d complain—with only one man in his bed.
“Not my problem, kid. She leaves each of her lovers better than she found them. Which is one of an omega’s gifts, isn’t it?
” Zorah sniffed the air and cocked her head to the side, braid slithering over her shoulder.
She grabbed Jimryr again, pulled him in, took another big sniff, and backed away, laughing.
“All this bullshit about not being good enough when you and the prince are already mated.” Zorah knew everything from a single sniff?
“Doesn’t mean he won’t leave me.”
Zorah sobered. “The bond wouldn’t have formed if either of you didn’t truly want to be together. Dragons mate for life. I understand King Locryn nearly died after his queen’s passing.”
“There’s something else. Even before we completed our mating flight, we spoke mind-to-mind.”
Zorah nodded. “Then it sounds like the Goddess approves even if she’s far away. Congratulations. I hope to meet your mate soon. And that truly answers your question of whether he’ll walk away.”
“What do you mean?”
“Goddess-bonded mates don’t walk away. Ever, except in death. They might have to live apart for a time, from choice or by circumstance, but their connection is always there. Even after death, the Goddess will reunite them in the end.”
So, the mating was real. A little light entered Jimryr’s heart. Watching Daire return to Alabama had taken a lot out of him, but they had lives in two different locations.
“You’ll need to decide if you’re going to join him at his home, or the two of you will settle here.”
Jimryr would go wherever Daire wanted. He thought of the cabin in the woods, then of his seen-better-days, rented mobile home. “Boss,” he said with a grin. “If you need me, I’ll be in Alabama.”
The stars in Alabama appeared so different from the ones in Adrakus, mostly because of something the humans called “light pollution.” Out here at the cabin, though the constellations were different, the stars twinkled brightly without a big city nearby to dampen the view.
Jimryr and Daire walked hand-in-hand to the river, Jimryr in a light jacket, Daire in cutoff blue jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt, and flip-flops. He no longer seemed to care about showing his scars in Jimryr’s presence, a compliment for sure.
Jimryr asked again, “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Daire must still have a sore back after all their flying during their trip.
“It’s something I need to do. It’ll help with the soreness.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jimryr lied, heart hammering at the thought of even the slightest risk to Daire. “Are you sure you don’t want me to shift with you?” Were these out-of-control protective instincts a product of the mating?
“I don’t think any of the neighbors are home, but I still need you to keep a lookout. Warn me if anyone’s coming.”
“Will do.” Jimryr would help in any way possible.
“Thanks.” Daire stripped at the water’s edge, dropping his clothes onto the ground. He strode out into the river, wrapping his arms around himself. “Damn, the water’s cold. Don’t come in here. I’d hate for you to see the tragic shrinkage.”
Joking meant a positive attitude, right? Before Jimryr could answer, Daire shifted, his dragon shape dark under a quarter moon. A few security lights shone along the river’s edge without illuminating the dragon, thanks to his coloring.
Daire paddled in his dragon form, wings folded against his back, until deeper water allowed a full spread. He flapped his wings slowly, not splashing too much, yet working the muscles necessary for flight.
Jimryr sat on the bank, amused by thoughts from Daire.
I can do it. I can do it.
Damned right you can, darlin’.
Again and again, Daire tried. One had to admire his determination.
Motherfucker!
What happened? Jimryr raced to the water’s edge, ready to jump in.
Daire snorted, sending a plume of water into the air. I slipped on a rock.
Jimryr settled back down, racing heart slowing. He’d have to get a grip on the protectiveness before he gave himself a heart attack.
Daire exercised his wings for a time, swam for a while as a break, his wedge-shaped head barely above water, before he tried underwater flying again, waves of contentment washing over Jimryr from his mate. Daire must be pleased with his progress.
Much better.
The moon traveled across the sky, accompanied by splashing, and a few night noises Jimryr determined to be distant coyotes.
It’s getting late, Jimryr thought. Maybe you’ve had enough for tonight. You wouldn’t want to overdo it.
Daire waded into the shallows, shifting from dragon to human. Water sluiced down his body, glistening in the low light. His chest rapidly rose and fell. “You’re right. I wore myself out.”
Too bad they couldn’t access each other’s thoughts when both of them were in human form.
Not yet, anyway. Hell, he hadn’t known they could speak mind to mind with only one of them in dragon form.
“You did good. C’mon. Let’s get you home.
” Jimryr wrapped a blanket around Daire, gathered his clothes, then headed for the cabin.
While Daire plopped down onto the couch, Jimryr stacked logs in the fireplace, changing enough of himself to breathe life into a fire.
He eased down onto the couch beside Daire so as not to jostle his mate’s already aching muscles. “Good workout?”
Daire pressed a hand to his back, rotating his shoulder with a grimace. “Yeah. My back feels like it went a few rounds with a two-by-four.”
Now was the time to put hours of YouTube videos to use. “Go lie face down on the bed.”
Daire smirked. “Gonna make something else ache so my back won’t be lonely?”
Jimryr brushed a kiss against Daire’s cheek. “Maybe later. I’ve got something else in mind for now.”
Daire raised a questioning brow, but did as told, lying spread-eagle on top of the quilt. Damn, but he looked good. It required tremendous resolve not to pounce on him then and there.
Jimryr thrust his hand into his backpack, digging out a bottle of lotion he’d ordered online.
He took off his clothes, climbed onto Daire’s back, and warmed a bit of lotion in his hands.
Daire moaned when Jimryr spread his hands, pressing down and working his way along Daire’s spine, from his glutes to his shoulders.
“Feels so good. Doc made salve for my scales, and told me a massage might help me, but….”
But Daire didn’t want strangers to see his scars. Some were rough against Jimryr’s palms, and he kept his senses attuned to signs of discomfort. The missing fingers on his left hand didn’t slow him down. He long ago adapted to his infirmity.
Were the nerves in the skin damaged? Could Daire even feel the pressure? In his muscles, maybe, but he’d have to ask later.
Beneath Jimryr's hands, the scars grew more supple, which had to feel better, right?
Instead of crying out or flinching away, Daire moaned, pressing into Jimryr’s touch. “That feels so damned good! Why didn’t I listen to Doc’s suggestion?”
Two emotions warred in Jimryr’s mind: the thrill that he could be the one to make Daire feel so good, and a sudden stab of jealousy at the mere thought of someone else, someone who didn’t personally care about Daire, helping relieve the discomfort.
“I’m glad it helps.” Jimryr kneaded Daire’s lower back, relatively free of scars, then worked his way up, following muscle groups.
“Oh, Goddess, does it ever.” Daire’s stress seemed to dissolve, his muscles growing more pliant. Jimryr added more lotion, moving to Daire’s neck and shoulders, where Jimryr usually felt tension after flying.
“You have amazing hands,” Daire moaned against the pillow. “I’ll give you three years to stop.”
Jimryr wanted more than a mere three years. Wait! What? Where had such a notion come from? Fate never promised him three more years, particularly not with combat on the horizon. Still, having someone to trust him, allow him this close, was something he hadn’t expected to need more than air.
You’re mated. You have a lifetime. Yes, a lifetime. Jimryr grinned. “I think I’m gonna need a whole lot longer than three years.”
He’d been alone for so long when he’d joined Mystral’s group.
Even then, they hadn’t been an official court.
Members came and went as they pleased. Jimryr and Zorah had gathered together many dragons, but despite Zorah’s best efforts, they weren’t officially a court either.
Was it really possible to be a court of two?
“Something wrong?” Daire asked, flexing a shoulder.
“Huh?” The words brought Jimryr back to the here and now.
“You stopped.”
“Oh!” Jimryr resumed his ministrations. “Got lost in thought there a moment.”
“Anrai used to do the same. Elouan and I told him it’s because he didn’t visit thought enough to know the territory.”
Jimryr chuckled.
Daire let out a sigh. “I miss him, Jimryr. I miss them both.”
“We’ll get you back to them.” The words reminded him that he dealt with Prince Daire, with a loving family to return to once the battle was over. What would the Thornes think of Jimryr, a homeless, courtless dragon?
No. Not homeless. Not courtless. His place was with Daire Thorne. Nothing short of the Goddess’s direct intervention would ever tear them apart.