Chapter 30
Rowan
Three months later…
Rowan got his fingers under the lip of the terracotta pot and hefted it up, walking it from one side of the rooftop to the other.
He glanced up in the direction of the sun to contemplate his placement and blinked when something icy blue and lightning fast whipped past his vision.
The blur was hard to keep track of, but Rowan had an inbuilt radar for this particular specimen.
The sun’s rays glinted off the cerulean ombre scales, making the tips of his wings and tail appear crystalline as the dragon banked toward the building, doing a barrel roll to show off.
Rowan rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop his smile as he watched him. Well, until he attempted a somersault waaay too close to the building and came out the other end directly in front of the antenna that was sticking straight up.
He thwacked his pointed snout into it, then came crashing down the small distance to the gravel-covered rooftop in a heap.
Rowan dropped his pot and rushed over with his heart in his throat, landing on his knees next to him. “Milo?”
The tangled scales and claws began to shift back into the idiotic human form of the half dragon he loved. “Ow.”
“My shows better not be ruined, you little scamp!” Ethel called.
“A brilliant display!” Glenn clapped.
Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. “I need to call the instructor that passed you on your flying test.”
“I’m great at flying!” Milo’s eyes shifted from slits to round pupils. His nose was still red from the crash.
“You go too fast.”
“I can’t help it! It’s in my DNA. I’m the fastest dragon that ever did live.”
“That’s not what the DNA results said.”
“But that’s what I heard.”
“Of course it is.” Rowan got his arms under his ridiculous mate and pulled him up, shielding his naked form with his body, even if it was from his hoard.
“Don’t I get a kiss to make me feel better?” Milo pouted up at him.
“Is that why you smashed your face into a pole?” Rowan asked, but he bent down and placed two neat kisses on the bridge and tip of Milo’s nose anyway.
“I nearly got that trick right. If the pole hadn’t suddenly sprung up from nowhere I would have slipped right past and landed,” Milo said through the kisses.
“Well they don’t call you the Slippery Bullet for nothing.”
Milo slapped both hands over Rowan’s mouth in an instant, eyes blazing. “I thought we agreed never to say that name out loud,” he hissed, looking around for anyone who might have heard. “The betrayal! Mate betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”
Rowan’s chest shook with his laughter.
Milo fumed. Well, iced. Puffs of icy steam rolled off his body and the ground froze under his feet. He hadn’t quite gotten control of either ability yet. It explained his beautifully wintery scent though. Rowan should have guessed well before the DNA test came back.
“They updated that hideous name and you know it,” Milo said. “That’s the outdated and archaic one.”
Rowan pulled Milo’s hands from his mouth then leaned down and kissed him, mumbling against his mouth, “They did, my little Sky Frost.”
Milo purred happily, losing all his previous frosty edge and trying to snake his tongue into Rowan’s mouth.
Rowan pulled back with a blush, glancing over his shoulder at all the oldies, who weren’t paying them a jot of attention as they bustled about in their sun hats and floral gloves. Glenn had a bonnet on. It was quite fetching on him.
“No fair. You can’t call me that and then not give up the goods,” Milo complained, placing his hands on Rowan’s chest and squeezing. “You only ever call me that to turn me on.”
Rowan blushed harder. He didn’t, Milo just got turned on by everything Rowan did, it seemed. “I’ll give up the goods when we finish the garden. Your hoard has been looking forward to it all week and the weather finally cleared up.”
Milo scrunched his red nose but relented when he peeked over at his hoard. “Fine. I’ll get changed from work and meet you back up here.”
Rowan glanced down at his naked body and the tattered remains of his work clothes at their feet. “You might need to put another request form in for a new uniform.”
“The boss is going to kill me.”
Rowan grumbled, smoke curling from his nose. “He can try.”
“Down, boy.” Milo laughed, but he was always pleased by Rowan’s posturing. He gave Rowan’s chest one more cheeky squeeze before scampering off toward the rooftop entrance.
He slipped on his own ice patch about halfway there and Rowan lunged to catch him, blowing hot air at his feet to melt it.
“Where would I be without you?” Milo cooed, looking at him upside down. “We’re a perfect match.”
“Still chained to a tree?” Rowan said, but his insides were squirming happily.
They were a perfect match. A completely dysfunctional, perfectly wonderful match.
He let Milo head off to the private apartment they kept here and got back to work on the garden, letting the familiar motions of his favorite activity lull him into an easy sense of peace.
When Milo returned he had a canvas lawn chair under one arm, oversized bug sunglasses perched on his nose, garish Hawaiian-style shorts and shirt on, and was sipping from his dented neon cup.
He never used any other one and was fiercely protective of it.
No one else was allowed to so much as wash it for fear of compromising its structural integrity.
He set up his chair and coffee before walking up and hooking his pointy chin over Rowan’s shoulder, hugging him from behind. He kitten-licked a bead of sweat from Rowan’s neck and Rowan had to fight not to react.
Milo sighed happily and settled against him. “The place looks great, Ro.”
Rowan glanced around at the beginnings of the rooftop garden. It had been his special project ever since the building had opened. He’d sneakily included it in the building plans and Milo had given him a knowing grin when Rowan had done the first full walkthrough with him.
They’d christened the rooftop then and there in their hard hats.
Life was just like that now—full of spontaneity and creature comforts. A mixture of Milo’s and Rowan’s personalities melding together into something new and perfect.
“You can’t plant the carrots and the parsnips next to each other, you maniac,” Ethel cried out.
“The lord is guiding my hand,” Clarence declared. “He wills it so.”
“The lord can kiss my ass. I’m not having shriveled vegetables. I need those for Milo’s soups!”
“Oh dear.” Milo propped his sunglasses on top of his head.
This wasn’t the first fight that had broken out over the garden; not even the first this morning.
“I thought this was supposed to be a peaceful activity?” Milo said. “They have five fights a day up here.”
“Gardening is a competitive sport,” Rowan said.
“Well, let’s round up my hoard before it becomes a contact sport. I don’t like the way Shelly is sneaking around with that trowel.”
“I have a solution,” Rowan said.
He walked over to a large container he’d hefted up here early in the morning. Milo hadn’t been allowed to peek inside, which he’d said was just plain mean and that he’d perish from neglect.
Rowan had distracted him with his mouth until Milo had forgotten all about it.
Rowan popped the lid off and made an exaggerated hum. “I wonder where I could put all these gnomes.”
Every head except Conrad’s turned slowly in his direction.
It reminded him of a pack of predators. Slow-moving but hungry predators.
A nervous sweat broke out on Rowan’s already sweaty brow. Maybe he had underestimated the power of the cute pointy hats and blushy cheeks.
“Step away slowly,” Milo said. “Don’t make any sudden movements. They can sense fear.”
Rowan swallowed and did as he was told just as the masses descended…at a sedate and comfortable pace.
“Look at his little wheelbarrow!” Shelly exclaimed.
“This one is riding on a flamingo, how adorable!” Ethel gushed.
“He has a cross!” Clarence wept in glee.
Glenn picked up a pair of dancing gnomes. “How elegant!”
“Who’s got an elephant?” Conrad yelled, turning to them finally before widening his eyes and shuffling over to join. “Save one for me. I’m coming. Be there in a jiff!”
It would take him five minutes to get there, but the garden was forgotten about for the time being.
“Phew!” Milo said before knocking Rowan on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding an oldie weapon of mass destruction in our apartment?”
“I didn’t think it would be that scary,” Rowan whispered, still spooked.
Milo smothered a laugh and petted his chest. “There, there. It’s over now.”
“I think I’ll have nightmares for years to come.”
He wasn’t fully serious, but he also wasn’t not serious.
They watched Milo’s hoard fuss over the gnomes and Milo seemed to glow. His hoard was happy, so Milo was happy. Which meant Rowan was happy too.
“C’mon. I’ll help you fix all their mess while they’re distracted,” Milo murmured into his arm, placing a few kisses there in a rare moment of daylight softness. He usually got mushier the lower the lights went. “I know it must be killing you inside.”
Rowan winced. “You noticed?”
Milo gave him a knowing look. “You show everything on your gorgeous face. I thought you were about to cry when Glenn started pruning last week.”
“Azaleas are more beautiful when you let them grow into their natural shape,” Rowan grumbled.
“I’ll hide the shears from him,” Milo said and Rowan smiled. “Now let’s get started. We have dinner with the family tonight and we can’t be late again.”
Rowan blushed. “We were in the shower getting ready to go!”
“I think the problem was that we stayed in the shower.” Milo smirked.
“We’re newly mated,” Rowan grumbled. “They should understand.”
Milo laughed and dragged him over to the raised flowerbeds. “Instruct me, plant daddy dragon.”
Rowan flushed and looked behind them. “You said you wouldn’t say that outside of the bedroom.”
“All’s fair in love and nickname usage. Think of it as payback for earlier.”
“Milo.” It wasn’t a whine. Rowan didn’t whine. “You know it’s not the same thing.”
Milo threw his arms around Rowan’s neck and hung on, lifting his feet to force Rowan to pick him up. “Okay, I’ll stop. Kiss me and teach me a lesson?”
“That’s not a punishment.”
“Do you want to spank me instead?”
“Milo.”
“You can wear your gardening gloves.”
“MILO!”
He began to laugh, his starry eyes sparkling. Rowan leaned down and kissed him anyway. Because that was how things were.
When he pulled back Milo sighed, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love our life.”
Rowan’s heart swelled five times larger. “I do too.”
“And I want to say thank you,” Milo said with complete sincerity.
“For what?” Rowan whispered.
“For everything. For helping me. For helping me find myself. For paying for my hoard space. For loving and protecting my hoard. For letting me move in with you even though I’m chaotic and messy. For filling up my life with family and love.”
“You don’t have to thank me for anything. Thank you for being you, Milo Tobitt.”
Notes:
We’re not crying, you are.
Also rejected Dragon Breed Names:
Whingy Wollop
Floppyheaded Flametail
Aggravating Adder
Blubbering Blizzard