Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
We have exactly one week before Mina puts Operation Last Clutch into motion, and the anticipation coursing through my veins is almost intoxicating.
The countdown has officially begun, each day bringing us closer to expanding our family in the most romantic way possible.
Right now, I’m stalking future daddy number two with the focused intensity of a predator on the hunt, cataloging every detail of his schedule for today with meticulous precision.
Callan moves through the campus with that efficient stride I’ve come to associate with him—purposeful, organized, completely unaware that a certain displacer beast is documenting his every move.
My midnight-black hair catches the afternoon shadows as I carefully phase into the deepest recesses of darkness near the administrative building, my form becoming one with the gloom itself.
I remain perfectly motionless in my shadowy sanctuary, watching as Callan approaches the imposing entrance to Thauglor’s office.
The ancient dragon’s domain radiates power even from the outside—massive oak doors reinforced with metal that gleams with subtle enchantments, and windows that seem to look back at anyone who dares to peer through them.
“Everything ready for winter break?” Thauglor’s voice rumbles through the space like distant thunder as he looks up from the enormous calendar sprawled across his mahogany blotter.
Even seated behind his desk, the ancient black dragon commands the room with an authority that’s been earned over millennia of existence.
“Everything’s settled,” Callan responds with characteristic efficiency, his voice carrying that calm professionalism that makes him such an asset to the academy.
He lays a small leather-bound journal on the polished surface of the desk with practiced care, the gesture speaking to countless similar meetings.
“Do we have all the courses lined up for our return in the new year?” Thauglor inquires, tilting his head to the side in that distinctly dragonic manner.
The movement causes his obsidian scales to catch the light filtering through the office windows, creating an almost hypnotic display.
I swear that ancient bastard can sense disturbances in the surrounding air—something about the way his nostrils flare ever so slightly makes my kitty instincts prickle with unease.
“Just waiting on Abraxis’s updated warfare planning curriculum,” Callan explains with patience, flipping open his journal to reveal pages covered in neat, precise handwriting.
He finds a dog-eared page and studies it carefully.
“He wants to restructure it to stretch from January all the way through to when classes end, instead of breaking it into two separate sessions. I mean, it makes perfect sense from an educational continuity standpoint, but he’ll need to design a comprehensive midterm examination for it. ”
“What about the stealth classes and spy craft courses?” Thauglor asks about my specialized curriculum, and I feel a surge of pride knowing that I gave Callan everything he could possibly need. My classes might be unconventional, but they’re thorough and meticulously planned.
“Two midterms—one per session—and then a separate advanced project for those students who are ahead of the learning curve,” Callan replies, flipping to another section of his impeccably organized journal.
Every page seems to have its place, every detail accounted for with the precision that would make Mina purr with appreciation.
“Excellent,” Thauglor nods approvingly, his massive form radiating satisfaction.
“If you’ll leave the journal with me, I’ll return it to you before the end of the day.
” The request comes with one of his rare smiles, but something in the dragon’s tone makes my kitty senses tingle with warning signals.
Shit. He’s deliberately getting rid of Callan, and that usually means he’s detected something—or someone—that requires his immediate attention.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later,” Callan agrees readily, gathering his materials with the same methodical care he applies to everything else. He heads toward the door with that purposeful stride, completely oblivious to what’s about to unfold behind him.
The moment Callan’s footsteps fade down the corridor, before I even have the chance to phase deeper into the shadows or make my strategic retreat, Thauglor’s massive hand shoots out with lightning-fast. His fingers wrap around my throat as he literally rips me from my shadowy hiding place, dragging me into the full light of his office with embarrassing ease.
“Why are you stalking your bond brothers?” His voice carries the weight of ancient authority, each word carefully measured and loaded with power. His grip tightens just enough to make his point crystal clear without actually causing damage. “You’ve been doing it all week, Ziggy.”
Thauglor releases me with a gesture that’s almost casual, and I immediately double over, coughing several times as I try to regain both my composure and my dignity. My throat burns with the phantom pressure of his fingers, and I can feel my cheeks flushing with the embarrassment of being caught.
“Mina asked me to get their schedules for her,” I rasp out between coughs, hoping desperately that telling him most of the truth will satisfy his curiosity and keep me in his good graces.
“Why?” The single word carries the force of a command as he tilts his head again and flares his impressive black wings.
The membrane stretches wide, casting dramatic shadows across the office walls and making him look even more imposing than usual.
Just what I need—a seriously irritated ancient black dragon questioning my motives while I’m still recovering from being manhandled.
I glance around nervously, suddenly very aware of how exposed I am in the middle of his office. Moving with as much dignity as I can muster, I approach his office door and turn the heavy lock with a decisive click. If we’re going to have this conversation, privacy seems absolutely essential.
“Mina wants to have another clutch with the mates who don’t have children yet,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush of desperate honesty. There’s no point in trying to be subtle when dealing with a dragon who’s already caught me red-handed.
Thauglor settles back into his chair with predatory grace, his ancient eyes studying me with the intensity of someone who’s seen empires rise and fall. The silence stretches between us for several heartbeats before he speaks again.
“The other hatchlings are past the developmental point where they would pose any danger to newborn siblings,” he muses thoughtfully, his voice taking on a more contemplative tone.
“It would make perfect sense from a family dynamics standpoint.” He rolls his head to the other side, considering the implications.
“Do you need assistance with this romantic endeavor?”
Everything in my mind slams to a sudden, complete halt. Did the most powerful dragon in our territory—the ancient being who could probably level mountains if he felt like it—just offer to help with Mina’s secret mission?
“Um, yes, that would be absolutely excellent,” I stammer, hardly daring to believe my incredible stroke of luck.
“The day Mina has me hunt her chosen mates, we need to isolate them strategically so I can grab them and transport them to her without any interference.” I arch an eyebrow with a growing smile, already imagining how perfectly this partnership could work.
“Mina wants complete privacy with her mates as she attempts to bless them with progeny of their own—intimate moments that require very careful orchestration.”
“That’s why you’ve been stalking everyone then,” he observes with a half-smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, clearly amused by the romantic intrigue unfolding right under his nose. The expression transforms his usually stern features, making him look almost approachable.
“Yeah,” I admit with a sheepish grin, settling into the comfortable leather chair positioned in front of his rather large desk. The furniture is obviously expensive—buttery soft leather that probably costs more than most people’s yearly salaries.
“Do you think sending them on strategic errands would help with the isolation process?” Thauglor suggests, tilting his head again in that considering gesture that means his brilliant mind is already formulating detailed plans.
“It certainly wouldn’t hurt our cause,” I agree enthusiastically, arching an eyebrow as I study his expression. Having the most powerful dragon in the territory as an ally right now feels like winning the equivalent of the lottery.
“What day does this operation officially commence?” He clears off his blotter with efficient movements, revealing an even larger calendar beneath that’s covered in neat notations, scheduling details, and what looks like several months’ worth of organizational systems.
“October twentieth or just before,” I reply, pulling out my own well-worn notebook and consulting the detailed list that Mina provided me with her characteristic thoroughness.
“The timing will ensure that the eggs hatch on the first day of the winter solstice—perfect symbolic timing for new beginnings and the continuation of our family line.”
“Excellent strategic planning,” Thauglor nods approvingly as he rises to his full, impressive height.
The movement is fluid and powerful, reminding me exactly why dragons have been apex predators for millennia’s.
He extends one massive hand toward me with formal dignity.
“Here’s to a healthy and successful next clutch. ”
I shake his hand firmly, the gesture feeling like I’m sealing a pact with ancient power itself, then lower my head respectfully to acknowledge his superior status and thank him for his unexpected alliance.
Without another word, I phase out of his office in a shimmer of displaced reality, leaving behind only the faintest disturbance in the air.
My job just became easier by several boatloads.
With Thauglor as a willing conspirator in Operation Last Clutch, this might actually turn out to be the smoothest ambush in history.
Mina is going to be absolutely thrilled when she finds out what kind of backup I’ve secured for her grand romantic gesture.