Chapter Two
Elouan sauntered into his favorite club, searching in the low light for a shock of fiery red hair. Ah, there! A rapid-fire bass beat pulsed through the air. He danced to the music over to where Curtis sat at a table, two beers in front of him. Oh yeah. They were going to have a good night.
Curtis handed a beer to Elouan. “I thought you might’ve changed your mind about coming out tonight.”
“Never! I just had a few things to finish up.” Elouan plopped into a chair across from his friend, then cocked an eyebrow, giving Curtis a once-over. “Dude. What the hell are you wearing?”
Curtis stood with a grin, running his hand over a vivid green mesh shirt. A quick look around said Elouan wasn’t the only one noticing.
“Like it?”
Like it? Well, it wasn’t Elouan’s personal style, but…“It’s totally you.”
“That’s what I thought!” Curtis gushed.
“Anyone else here we know?” Have you seen anyone you shouldn’t have yet? Elouan had worked so hard on this surprise. Please let no one tip Curtis off before time.
“I saw a few guys I have classes with, but I don’t think you know them.”
Elouan stared out at the dance floor, noting a few familiar faces.
Some men smiled at him. One grinned and received an elbow to the ribs from his partner.
Every variety of man sashayed around the dance floor, hard-bodied construction workers to button-downed office types.
Anything from jeans to dress pants molded to some mighty fine asses. Many were shirtless.
“Wanna dance?” Curtis asked.
Elouan whipped his T-shirt over his head, tossed it to his seat, and followed Curtis. They made their way to the dance floor, finding enough space to fit in.
While Curtis had never learned to shift, his dragon DNA slowed his metabolism, making him appear eighteen instead of twenty-three. The red hair and freckles also worked well with his youthful appearance. Men stared.
They also stared at Elouan, who’d determined to let off some steam tonight. While his bulkier body wasn’t as limber as Curtis’s, he tried to match Curtis’s wild gyrations.
Other men inched closer, stepping up to dance with Curtis or Elouan for a time before retreating when neither accepted the offers whispered into their ears. One or two tempted Elouan to go out back or leave with someone, but tonight was all about Curtis.
They danced a few songs, then stumbled back to their table, where two fresh beers waited. Elouan searched the surrounding area and lifted his beer in a toast to the two men sitting nearby, who nodded in acknowledgement of having sent over the drinks. Neither smelled of dragon, so human.
“I think you could have your pick of those two,” Elouan told Curtis.
Curtis managed a discreet look without being too obvious. “You’re crazy. They’re obviously interested in you.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.” While Elouan didn’t plan on hooking up tonight, he wouldn’t blame Curtis if he wanted to reel someone in. “Go on over. Talk to them.”
“What about you?”
“I’m out with a friend and I’ve got to work tomorrow.” Elouan lifted his second beer. “This is my limit tonight.”
“We came, we drank, we danced. I’m ready to go home.”
Really? “But you usually stay later.”
Curtis shrugged. “Nobody here interests me.”
Something about the statement didn’t ring true, but Elouan wouldn’t question his friend. Tonight, he’d follow his friend’s lead. “Then what say we go home and see what’s on TV?”
“Sure.”
“But first, I want to check out the balcony for a moment.” Elouan barely kept a mischievous grin off his face.
“I’ll wait for you here.”
Not in the plan. “Ah, c’mon. It’ll only take a minute.” The “minute” had taken a full week’s planning.
Curtis let out a put-upon sigh. “Okay. If you insist.”
Elouan led the way to the second-level balcony, then jumped aside to give Curtis a better view.
“Happy Birthday!” a group of nearly two-dozen cried out, including Curtis’s parents.
Curtis stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.
Elouan wrapped him in a hug. “Happy Birthday, buddy.”
The smile on Curtis’s face made the effort worthwhile.
A shrill wail jolted Elouan awake. What? Where? The fuck? Where was he? Where the hell was his sword?
The shrieking started making sense. He swatted at the alarm clock with one hand, clutching his wildly pounding heart with the other. Another dream of home, his brothers in danger—him powerless to help. The details dissipated like smoke through a fist, leaving only longing and sorrow.
He’d left Adrakus. Had no inkling of where Anrai and Daire might be. The little space behind his breastbone, attuned to his family, assured him they still lived. Nothing more.
That’s what he got for drinking on a work night. Bad dreams. Always.
Elouan studied the surrounding room. A curtain. Artificial light shining through the window. The softness beneath him. Bed and blankets instead of furs. Outside, a car horn blared. The third swat silenced the infernal noisemaker. Alarm clocks. A torture Adrakus didn’t have.
Rubbing his eyes didn't clear his vision or remove the dream's remnants from Elouan’s mind. Same. Damn. Dream: Father falling, soldiers cutting down Anrai and Daire, while Uncle Urien laughed.
Elouan’s heart ached for the brothers in his dream. And Goddess knew he missed Teron.
He closed his eyes, reciting, “I’m Elouan Aaron and if I don’t get my lazy ass into gear, I’ll be late for work.” Just five more minutes to indulge in fantasies: going home, confronting his uncle, an epic battle, making things right. Long-range plans. Elouan had ’em.
More immediately, though, his morning wood claimed priority. Yeah, yeah. Someone to fill the empty half of his bed would be nice. Yet, none of the humans he'd met lately compelled him into a second date, let alone bringing them home, wanting them to stay.
Nice to play with for a night, though.
Foolishness. Could he truly be happy with anyone besides another dragon? A feisty omega, or a gentle and sweet one. Or maybe one with a touch of both.
Elouan and his hard dick came to an understanding to images of slick, pale skin, a soft touch, then a more demanding one. Of lifting his omega by the hips, slamming into tight heat. Elouan threw back his head, releasing a growl as the warmth of his cum slid over his fist.
His dragon exulted at the thought of an omega.
Elouan lay back on the bed, sucking in air and letting his heart calm. He’d never have such an experience if he didn’t find an omega. When Father tried to arrange a match, Elouan wasn’t ready. If only he’d listened. No time for regrets now, when he was pretending to be human.
Elouan showered, shaved, and wove his hair into a braid, as he’d done for seasons. No, not seasons. Years. Terrans counted time in years.
No use putting in too much effort when he’d have a hard hat jammed on his head all day. Whoever invented mirrors must’ve liked seeing themselves. Elouan certainly didn’t. His reflection reminded him of family members he ached to see.
He selected a shirt and a pair of jeans at random, then added steel-toed work boots to the ensemble.
Last, he tied a leather thong around his neck, holding what humans might think a dragon claw looked like—the closest he could come to his old amulet.
Who’d stolen the one given to him by his mother?
He’d woken up in his cell without it. But even if some thieving guard hadn’t taken the prize, he couldn’t have brought any physical possessions with him through the portal. He’d arrived naked.
May his brothers never find out about him wearing one of Sakaris’s robes.
He spared a fond look at the current novel lying on his nightstand. “Tonight,” he promised. “Then we’ll find out who the killer is.”
Now to go downstairs and meet the day. No stone walls, no stone keep.
The walls here were sheetrock. Despite the name, they weren’t actually rock and damaged far too easily.
He’d accidentally caused a few holes before learning to navigate a fragile human dwelling.
Carpet beneath bare toes felt nice, though, as did hot showers.
He made his way downstairs, lured by the captivating scent of coffee. Coffee. Another thing the dragon world didn’t have. Other than still being Elouan, his new life didn’t much resemble his old one.
“Good morning!” Did Curtis have to be so fucking cheerful at oh-dark-thirty in the morning?
His shoulder-length copper hair glowed under the kitchen lights, and his bright blue eyes shone with his usual good mood.
He wore an awful hoodie over his shirt in a color Elouan once heard described as acid green, which seemed to be his favorite color.
Faded, thank the Goddess. Elouan couldn’t stand much more brightness at this hour.
“Mawnin’,” Elouan drawled in the Southern accent he’d gained since moving to this place called North Carolina.
He collapsed onto a barstool at the island separating the kitchen from what should be a dining area, long ago turned into a home gym.
The “Kiss the Cook” cooking-themed wallpaper clashed horribly with the photos of buff men printed from the internet and taped to the walls for inspiration.
As an omega half-dragon, Curtis stood little chance of bulking up to the extent of the men on the pages. Still, Elouan couldn’t fault the guy for trying.
Elouan worked out regularly, though his human body required much more effort than his other form. Whenever he got the opportunity to shift, he’d want the necessary muscles for flying.
“Coffee’s almost ready,” Curtis chirped. Then he said the three little words Elouan longed to hear: “I’ll make breakfast.”
Yes, there were reasons to tolerate a morning-person roommate.
“Shouldn’t I be making you breakfast? It’s your birthday, after all.”
“That was yesterday, and as I’ve seen your cooking, let’s just say I don’t mind putting my skills to use.” Curtis grew serious for a moment. “Thank you for last night. Mom said the party was your idea.”
“What are friends for?” It was nice to see Curtis being the center of attention.