Chapter 23 Kiss and Mate Up
Jaxon
Flint stares down at the ring his mother just slid onto his finger, and I…I just stare at him.
I can’t stop.
His eyelashes and curls are dotted with confetti. His cheeks are flushed. And his hands—his big and powerful and somehow still gentle hands—shake as they hold on to his mother’s slender ones.
I’m so proud of him. So fucking proud of this man standing in front of me with his heart and his strength and his determination to do right by his people no matter what it takes or how hard it is.
I can see it in his eyes, in the set of his broad shoulders.
I can feel it coming off of him in waves. Maybe because I feel it, too, this need to serve his people—our people—the way my father never served his.
The last year has taught me a lot of things. How to love. How to mourn. How to heal. How to forgive and how to ask forgiveness. But most importantly, it’s taught me what true power is…and what it isn’t.
Power isn’t about what you can gain from it. It’s about what you can give with it.
My father never understood that, and his lack of understanding cost too many lives. I still ache at the thought of all those lives lost—people I loved and people I’ve never met. All gone, because of my father’s greed and insatiable need for more.
More money. More power. More everything.
I won’t make that mistake. These people—my people—are what’s important. And leading them into the new order Grace and Hudson are so passionate about feels like something I was born to do.
It’s funny, considering I never wanted the throne any more than Flint did, but watching Grace and Hudson choose what’s best for everyone over and over again has given me the determination to do this right.
That and watching Flint move through the Dragon Court, paying attention to everyone, stopping to listen to whoever wants a moment of his time.
The sun, dull as it is today, catches on the ring Nuri gave him, making it gleam like dragon fire itself. And as he turns to me, a smile on his lips and the weight of power already in his eyes, all I can think is he looks like a king.
Not because of the crown—there isn’t one. Not yet. Not because of the ceremony—there hasn’t been one of those yet, either. But because of the way he’s standing there, spine straight, eyes clear, heart wide open as his mother passes him the power she’s carried for a century.
He didn’t ask for it. He didn’t chase it. But God help anyone who tries to take it from him now. Because Flint will be a leader who gives everything he has, even when there’s nothing left to give.
He could have walked away so many times, but he didn’t.
And now here we are. I may not have been born a dragon.
I may not belong to this kingdom by blood.
But I do belong to Flint. And I’ll serve our kingdom with everything I am.
Not for the title. Not for the legacy. But for the future we can create together.
No, I never wanted the throne, but I want Flint and everything that comes with him.
“I think I owe you an apology,” Aiden says, voice gruff.
I assume he’s talking to Flint—because hell yes, he owes my mate an apology—so I wait to see what the new dragon king will say. But then Aiden clears his throat in a way that demands attention, and I turn to find him looking straight at me.
“I’ve made things difficult for you,” he continues. “That was by design, not accident.”
“I know,” I reply with a nod. “But I always figured I deserved it.”
“Maybe you did,” he agrees. “Then. But not now. I’ve seen the way you love my son. The way, time and again, you put yourself between him and everyone who wants to hurt him. That hunter—” His voice breaks.
“Was never going to touch Flint,” I finish for him. And then I make a promise—to Aiden, to Nuri, to Flint. “I’ll always stand between him and the world.” He may be the dragon king, but he’s my mate. Mine to take care of. And mine to cherish.
“That’s not what I want for you,” Flint protests. Because of course he does—foolish dragon.
“Maybe not, but it’s what I want for myself. You take care of the world,” I tell him with a grin. “And I’ll take care of you.”
Before Flint can come up with an answer to that, Aiden removes his ring—sleek obsidian engraved with silver flames worn smooth by a century of command. And then he presses it into my hand.
“This ring is a responsibility,” he tells me in a voice that drips with sincerity and power. “One I know you’re more than worthy of.”
My breath catches in my throat, and for a second I’m terrified I’m going to drown in the middle of Katmere Academy’s practice fields.
But then Flint slides a hand over my back—the same hand that wears his mother’s ring.
His touch steadies me like nothing else ever could, and I look down at the ring in the center of my palm.
Then up at the man who, for so long, only ever saw me as a threat.
“Welcome home, Jaxon,” Aiden says with a grin.
“Welcome home,” Nuri echoes.
My throat, already tight, turns thick with tears I refuse to shed. At least until Flint wraps his arms around me and whispers, “I don’t know what they’re welcoming you for. You’ve been my home since we were thirteen years old. It just took you a while to figure it out.”
Then he takes his father’s ring and slips it on my finger. And the tears I’ve worked to hold in for years—for decades—slowly spill down my cheeks. Because this moment is so perfect, so right, that I can’t believe it’s mine.
Flint holds me until I regain control, then steps back and grins at me. “I don’t know about you, but everyone else here is in the mood to party. What do you say we join the festivities?”
“I say hell yeah,” I answer with a grin.
Seconds later, Flint has us right in the middle of a whole lot of confetti, fireworks, and a world-class party.
Grace is dancing with Macy, her curls bouncing wildly in all directions.
Eden is spinning Heather around and around, and Hudson is standing to the side, baby Smokey sleeping in his arms and a huge smile on his face.
Flint joins Grace and Macy, and soon all three of them are dancing with abandon to Harry Styles’s “Watermelon Sugar.” Flint reaches for my hand, tries to get me to join them. But I’ve got something else to do first.
I join my brother and Smokey on the sidelines.
Hudson shoots me a grin. “How long before one of them falls on their arse?”
I pretend to think about it. “My bet’s on thirty seconds or less.”
Before I finish talking, Macy ends up on the ground, laughing her head off. It’s good to see her smile. Flint reaches a hand down to help her up, and somehow—I’m not entirely sure, considering the size difference—she manages to pull him into the grass with her.
Then they’re both laughing, and Grace—being Grace—flops down on the grass right between them, her crown gleaming in the sunlight.
“Pay up,” I tell my brother.
He shoots me a look. “We never agreed on terms.”
“I’ll settle for never having to see another naked Hudson Vega statue in my life.”
He sniffs. “Well, then, you probably shouldn’t plan on coming to dinner anytime soon.”
I crack up, exactly as he intends me to. He grins back, and it seems like the perfect time to say what I came over here to say. “Thank you.”
He lifts one dark brow. “For what?”
“For everything.” That damn tightness is back in my throat, but this time I fight through it. This is too important to just let it go. “Thank you for protecting me when I was young. For taking most of Cyrus’s horrors so that I didn’t have to.”
Hudson shakes his head. “You don’t have to—”
“Nobody told you to interrupt,” I tell him, then watch as he rears back in surprise.
Typical gargoyle king, never expecting anyone but Grace to talk back to him.
“Thank you for trying to step aside with Grace when you thought it was the only way to save me. I was always grateful for that, but until I had a true mate, I never understood just how hard that was.”
“A true mate?” His eyes go wide as they dart to Flint and back. “About bloody time.”
“Past time,” I agree. “Just like it’s past time for me to say this. I love you, Hudson.”
This time, it’s his eyes that fill with tears. He blinks them away, but his voice is low and thick when he answers, “I love you, too, brother.” He pauses, then gives me a quick side-eye. “Even if you did try to kill me.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not bloody likely,” he replies with a snort. The noise wakes Smokey from her nap, and suddenly she’s clapping her little hands on Hudson’s cheeks before scampering out of his arms and racing across the grass straight toward the others.
“Smokey!” Grace exclaims, looking surprised but pleased as she holds her arms out for the little umbra.
But Smokey just hisses at her before diving straight into my mate’s arms.
Flint catches her, then laughs as she starts patting the top of his head and pressing her face right up against his.
Grace looks disgruntled for a second, but then she holds her hands out to Hudson and me. “Enough with the strong, brooding vibes,” she calls. “Get over here.”
“Yeah,” Flint calls when Smokey finally leans back. “Get over here and dance with us.”
Hudson and I exchange a dubious look, then do exactly as our mates request. Because, somehow, despite the odds, despite all the pain and heartbreak and everything stacked against us, we’re home.