Chapter 28 #2
When he awoke the next morning, Fionn’s thoughts went back to the previous night when all his dreams came true…
a magical evening made possible by his friends and Quin.
Though it wasn’t that long since Kieran rescued him, now, lying within the safety of Hunter’s arms, it seemed a lifetime away—his father’s hatred of him, the many attempts on his life, the fear and uncertainty of his future—all gone.
Instead Fionn felt his mate’s love filling him with a love hotter than his dragon fire, something he never thought possible.
Wondering what his dragon thought about it, Fionn checked—grinning when he saw the big black wolf’s wings wrapped around him.
It was the first time he’d seen how big those wings were…
which reminded him about something he forgot to do yesterday.
Fionn carefully slipped out of Hunter’s arms, rolling over until he was at the edge of their bed.
Sitting up, he searched the room for his backpack, spying it near the closet.
Glancing over his shoulder and seeing his mate still asleep, he rose and padded over to his bag.
Quietly unzipping it, he reached in and dug around until his fingers grasped it.
Pulling it out, he smiled, now understanding why his dragon had chosen it.
“Pet, what are you doing?”
Hunter’s deep raspy voice sent shivers down Fionn’s spine.
Dropping his backpack and quickly concealing the gift, he turned around and found his mate’s half-opened eyes staring at him.
“Good morning, mate,” Fionn replied, joining Hunter on their bed.
“I forgot to give you something yesterday.” Sitting cross-legged in front of his mate, Fionn kept his hands behind his back.
“When I was at my hoard, my dragon insisted I had to bring you a gift…”
“Not necessary, pet, because you are my gift.”
Touched by Hunter’s comment, Fionn leaned forward, giving his mate a quick kiss.
“Thanks, but my dragon was quite insistent and if you know anything about dragons, it’s just easier to do what they want sometimes, instead of arguing, because you don’t want to get them pissed off.
So, I searched for the right gift but in the end, it was my dragon who picked it.
” Fionn then held out the gift for his mate to see.
Blinking once, then again, Hunter half rose and stared at the statue his mate was holding. He couldn’t believe it. It was a gold wolf with enormous wings, looking as if it were about to take flight. “You knew my wolf was going to get wings?”
“Nope but my dragon did. When I found it, I thought it was supposed to symbolize you and me together. Only after I claimed you did I realize it represented my dragon’s gift to your wolf. Do you like it? It’s solid gold. I inherited it from my mother.”
“Then I’ll treasure it all the more,” Hunter replied, taking it from his mate. “Wow, it’s heavy.”
“I’m not sure where my mother got it since the inventory lists the giver as ‘unknown’ which is kind of unusual.”
“Why?” Hunter asked.
“Because every time a dragon adds to his hoard, it’s added to their inventory list that gives a description, the date of acquisition, and where it came from,” Fionn answered. “My mother told me the inventory list became mandatory after the last dragon war.”
“How come?”
“It’s supposed to stop dragons stealing from other dragons’ hoards. That’s what caused the war. So after peace was made, it was ordered that all dragons keep track of what they own.”
“Ahh…but can’t a dragon steal something from another’s hoard, then list it on their inventory claiming they got it somewhere else?”
“Nope, because the list keeper is always someone who isn’t a dragon and who has to post a bond…in my family it was our attorney. There’s also a team of auditors that go around checking the lists to make sure they’re correct.”
“What kind of bond?” Hunter asked, seeing lots of ways someone could cheat.
“A life bond…if the list keeper fails at his task, he forfeits his life.”
“Holy shit! That’s certainly an incentive to be honest.”
“Yes, it is. But for some reason, the auditors allowed our attorney to list the source of the winged wolf as unknown. Very strange.”
“Did you ever ask why, when you inherited your mother’s hoard?”
Shaking his head, Fionn replied, “I didn’t care. Her hoard was just a bunch of things as far as I cared…what I really wanted was my mother back. I’m glad my father never got her hoard, but that doesn’t make up for losing her.”
Hearing the sadness in his mate’s voice, Hunter placed the statue on the nightstand.
Then, gathering him in his arms, he lay back down, holding his mate on his chest. Slowly rubbing his back, he began to hum the same melody his mother hummed to him when he was young.
He understood how Fionn felt; it was the same with him when thoughts of his parents’ deaths escaped from the box he tried to keep them in.
Though the pain of his loss had slowly begun to fade, it had to be much worse for his mate who was so much younger—and alone—when it happened to him.
Fighting back his tears, Fionn clung to his mate, desperately needing his strength. As his grief receded, he took deep gulps of his mate’s scent, reminding him that he was home, safe and protected. When Hunter’s touch finally drove the pain from him, Fionn whispered, “I love you so much.”