Chapter Two #4
And where he still hadn’t wanted to be king.
While most of Elouan’s coworkers rode the elevator to the ground during lunch break, he far preferred to remain aloft, nibbling the sandwiches he’d packed before Curtis got the chance.
Pigeons strutted on a beam nearby, likely waiting for a handout.
He tossed them a handful of seeds he kept on hand.
His crossbeam perch gave Elouan a prime view of people on the street below, hustling along the sidewalks. Who were they? Where were they going? Did they have families to go home to?
He reveled in the city sounds: car engines and horns, music that gained volume and quickly dissipated again as a car moved on, registering familiar lyrics occasionally, things not found in his normal environment, and still marvels to behold. Maybe one day he’d tire of them, but not today.
He didn’t discuss what he saw up here, what he heard.
As with his comfort level, Elouan had to remind himself often that humans didn’t possess his keen vision and couldn’t make out many details from this height.
Hell, he clearly saw a man drop a nickel on the sidewalk, and a child scurrying to claim the prize.
What podcast should he listen to today? The best ones helped him fit in with humans.
He’d worked hard to adapt to their way of speaking and stay abreast of relevant news to discuss with human coworkers.
Probably current events, then. Elouan selected his favorite news station on his phone while watching a man in far too baggy jeans amble down the sidewalk. Reminded him of his roommate.
He’d learned early on not to emulate Curtis’s fashion choices when they’d been out in public and someone mentioned calling the fashion police.
Took Elouan a while to realize that authorities didn’t actually police fashion.
Unless one forgot to wear something essential, like pants.
Humans. So finicky about nudity. However, if the fashion police did in fact exist, he’d have to create a diversion and get Curtis to safety the next time they went clubbing.
That man and his affinity for neon mesh fabrics.
Elouan popped in his earbuds while watching people disappear off the streets into stores and restaurants, or sit on benches, talking. The day warmed in the sun, causing him to roll his shirt sleeves to the elbow, at least while on break. He sat with his back against a solid hunk of metal.
Judging by the appearance of the passing humans, most of the young adults frequenting the coffee shop were college students, like Curtis, laden with backpacks, coffee cups fused to their hands, and earbuds hanging from their ears.
Elouan watched and waited. No, not waited.
What did he care if a certain blond happened by today?
Yet his gaze kept returning to the tables in front of the coffee shop.
Even though today was likely considered a bit on the cool side for humans on the shadowed sidewalk, the blond usually occupied the same table when he came, regardless of weather, huddled beneath the shelter of an umbrella on rainy days.
The familiar bouncy gait caught Elouan’s attention first. His heart gave a little leap, similar to how he felt each time he launched into the sky. Golden curls peeked from under a black hoodie.
Elouan’s keen dragon sight showed him the young man’s beauty, even from this distance.
He’d be around Anrai’s height and slender, bordering on delicate.
Humans seemed to have alphas, betas, and omegas, too.
They didn’t openly define individuals as such, though.
This man struck Elouan as the perfect omega.
The blond paused at the coffee shop’s doorway, allowing a group of others to exit before making his way inside.
He returned a few minutes later with a cup and a paper bag, settling at his usual table.
Why didn’t this beautiful man have friends around him, like most of the others?
Was he a loner, like Elouan, or lonely because he had no one?
How sad. Elouan could imagine being friends with this man, sitting at the table with him. What conversations would they have? Could he even connect with this human outside of small talk?
But it wasn’t to be. Elouan wouldn't remain exiled here forever. At least he hoped not. One day he’d return to the dragon world, exact revenge on his uncle, and take his rightful place as king.
Not for power or glory, but to continue the family tradition of caring for the court.
After three years, he still didn’t want to be king, but someone needed to oust Urien.
No telling what kind of mess would be left behind to clean up.
Thinking primarily of himself contributed to Elouan being in this state. Maybe the court wouldn’t have backed Urien if Elouan had already taken a Goddess-approved mate. Or Elouan could be dead—along with the mate.
If and when he returned to his home world, he’d love to do so with a mate by his side, someone to help him, guide him, and comfort him. Sakaris’s words came back to him. “Keep your eyes open. There’s no telling what—or who—you might find.”
Only, a king’s mate couldn’t be a human.
Elouan let out of sigh. No use dreaming of what might never be. He polished off his sandwiches, trying to think of anything besides the gorgeous, golden-haired man down below.
And the depths of his loneliness.
His dragon gave the impression of disapproval. Oh, so he had finally woken up. Elouan gave a fond smile. “Yes, I know I’m not alone. I have you. But you’re a part of me. I’d really like a mate.”
Elouan’s dragon rumbled in agreement.
Maybe he’d meet someone soon. Curtis said he’d be late tonight. Maybe Elouan should stop by a club or something.
No, not again on a work night. Okay, fine, he could stop at the café down the street for dinner.
Where people would surround him, yet he’d remain alone.
At least the food would be good.