Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag
IGNATIUS
A s promised, a car is waiting when Thorne’s plane lands on the tarmac.
We unload our things and pile into it with Kaspar taking the wheel.
No one argues with the dragon when he demands to drive—probably because even Morgana acknowledges that he’s the best suited to handle maneuvers if something goes horribly wrong on our trip back to campus.
I hate having to think like that, but the amount of attacks in the past few months definitely precludes believing we’re safe, even thousands of miles across the country.
“I like traveling in luxury, but being home feels fucking great,” Lucas says as he looks out the window. “And outside of Nana’s mansion, I haven’t really felt attached to any place I’ve lived before. It’s nice.”
Morgana smiles fondly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
She’s full of steely resolve and walls high enough to build a skyscraper, but it’s obvious that once she lets someone in, they’re in for life.
The affection she shows the bear is heartfelt, and it makes me wish I knew what the hell to do to get some of it.
“I agree, babe. My place at Swallowtail never felt like home, and this house on campus doesn’t yet, but I think it will get there eventually. ”
“It will help to get all that fuckwit’s garbage out of your space,” the prince says from his seat next to his guard. “Being trapped in the museum of filth is preventing you from settling in. But we’ve got that handled, right, guys?”
Here’s my opening.
“Right. Liam and I will figure out how to dispose of all the junk and where to send the dangerous things that won’t put anything into the wrong hands.” I grin, projecting the charming confidence most women adore. “I am, after all, a Briarton. We’re renowned for our magical abilities.”
She rolls her eyes, giving me an unimpressed look. “Yes, Iggy, we know. But… I appreciate your help. Magic has never been my strong suit, no matter how much my mother wanted it to be. So I would never have known that my abode was filled with things that could hurt me or anyone else.”
“Don’t worry, Morgana,” Slade says with a shy smile. “Iggy likes to puff up, but he’s definitely very skilled with artifacts. And the Prince is powerful, so put together they will be able to cleanse the space and make it livable.”
Always my biggest cheerleader—sometimes I forget that and it takes something like what happened on the plane to remind me.
“Thanks, man,” I say with a fond smile. My roommate’s face lights up at the praise and I have to cover a chuckle. No way Morgana missed that little tidbit when they were ensconced in the bedroom; Slade’s a praise slut, through and through.
“You know, I’m surprised Chan Chan wasn’t here with the car. Think the lawyer and his goons have her running around on a Sunday?” Lucas bobs his brows and I groan at the implication.
“Stop it, cub,” Kaspar says sternly. “We’re not doing that shit again. Focus on what we need to do, not what the girl is doing.”
Liam winks at us when he turns to the back. “He’s right. Channing is an adult and speculating on her love life is silly. However, I do find it odd that she didn’t show—at least, from what I’ve observed of her behavior so far.”
“She texted me that she would be waiting at the house with dinner,” Morgana says as she shakes her head. “Men are ridiculous, I swear. Even when you’re not related or fucking a woman, you want to control her.”
“Hey!” I protest with a frown. “I do not want to control Channing. She’s our friend, and has been for a long time.
Yes, it’s a bit weird to imagine her in that situation because she’s never…
been so obviously involved with someone, much less multiple someones who are practically mercenaries.
But I want her to be happy—just not happy like that in my head. ”
The dark-haired beauty smirks at me, her eyes dancing with merriment. “If you say so, Iggy.”
I can’t win, yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest—how very odd.
“Welcome home, Morgana!”
Channing is standing on the porch grinning excitedly when we exit the SUV.
My old friend looks far less nervous and jittery than normal, and surprisingly, she’s dressed in casual attire.
It’s like a complete one-eighty, but in a good way.
Whatever she’s doing is obviously good for her, and when I look at Slade, he’s smiling ear to ear.
Okay, I’m on board with this dating the dudes from the dark side, I suppose.
Morgana climbs the steps quickly and lets the smaller woman hug her tightly. Channing pulls back with a flushed face, pushing up her glasses as she starts to apologize. “Stop. It’s okay. If I didn’t want you to hug me, I would have said so. You don’t have to apologize, Channing.”
“Whew,” the nervous elemental says as she turns to the rest of us. “Good to see you as well, Iggy. Slade, you look positively glowy. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but keep it up. I was worried you’d be in a funk again after dealing with your parents.”
That makes Morgana smirk and Slade flush bright red, which gets a laugh out of the entire group. Luckily, the bear takes the lead as he pouts. “Aw, Chan-o-Rama! Not happy to see me up and not looking like death? I’m hurt.”
Channing chuckles and ducks her chin. “Of course I’m glad to see you hale and hearty, Lucas. And welcome home to you as well, Prince. I’m glad you all made it home safely with Kaspar driving.”
The dragon pretends to glare, but our quirky friend just beams and he huffs as he carries an arm load of bags up the steps. “One of you idiots needs to get the rest. I’m a dragon, not a pack mule.”
“Guess he’s feeling well, too.”
Morgana bursts into laughter at Channing’s sass, shaking her head. “I don’t hate it when people give that asshole shit. Come on, everyone. Let’s go inside instead of standing here like lawn ornaments.”
Taking her cue, we all file into the house and I’m shocked at the clean, fresh scent filling the air.
There’s still a ton of ugly bullshit in the main ‘museum’ room, but the furniture has been replaced with lighter, comfier looking pieces that will brighten the area once we can get rid of all the heavy wood shelves and cabinets displaying Magnus’ crap.
Add in a coat of paint and some actual decor?
This will be quite livable, if I say so myself.
“You and the crew did a great job,” Lucas says as he hefts the rest of the bags towards the steps. “I’m going to take this stuff upstairs and I’ll join you guys on the patio once I’m changed.”
Morgana blinks, then nods vigorously. “Hell yes. I want to get out of my travel clothes. Does everyone have what they need to freshen up or do any of you need to pop home first?”
I frown, looking at my rumpled travel clothes. “I should pop back to our place. Slade? Are you coming?”
My best friend looks torn, obviously not wanting to leave, but knowing he should accompany me. “Yeah, you can beam us both up to grab some stuff. I’d like to have things here just in case.” He looks over at Morgana shyly. “That’s okay, right? If I bring more stuff?”
In a blink, the tall woman is across the room, yanking Slade into her arms to hug him close to her chest. She lays her cheek on top of his head, murmuring something unintelligible before she says, “Of course you can. This isn’t just my home; it’s a haven for all my mates.”
A jolt of jealousy runs through me as the prince and the bear grin broadly at my friend as if he’s joined a secret club the dragon and I are left out of.
It’s kind of true, though I know they’re not trying to make us feel that way.
Both of the men who had mated with Morgana before our trip immediately accepted Slade joining the growing polycule, so it’s obvious they aren’t being assholes on purpose.
It still makes me feel like shit and I have no intention of telling them that.
“Come on, man. Let’s get our shit so we can come back to eat.
I smell food and it’s making me cranky.” I give him a fake grin and my roommate nods, pulling out of Morgana’s grasp so he can join me.
Once he’s close enough, I take his arm, using the portal tie in my smartwatch to jump to our apartment quickly.
Slade shakes his head when we appear in the living room. “I will never get used to that, no matter how many times you do it. It’s so trippy, Iggy.”
Shrugging, I drop my bag on the floor by the couch, eager to do exactly what I said. “It’s harder when you’re not a mage or one of our kind. The Prince and the dragon are probably used to it, too.”
“Want me to pour you a drink before I go pack?” he asks, looking at me expectantly.
Emotion smacks me in the face, and for a second, I can’t find words. I have no idea what it means, but there are two sensations fighting for dominance in my chest, squeezing hard. I cough, clearing my throat as I croak, “No thanks. I really am hungry as fuck and I want to get back quickly.”
Slade’s brows furrow as I hurry to my room, shutting the door behind me.
I lean against the wood, breathing slowly as the confusing feelings rocket through me.
I’ve never considered how domestic my old friend and I are, nor that he’s never shown the slightest interest in dating people the entire time we’ve known one another.
Sure, I sensed he might swing both ways, and I enjoyed flirting with him occasionally but…
Seeing him standing by the sidebar waiting for me to answer lifted a veil that has been over my eyes for a long time.
While I was running around using him as a wingman, my kind-hearted friend has been serving as the true partner in my life without complaint.
I got my jollies here, there, and everywhere, then came home to the stable influence who was always there to lend a shoulder when shit went wrong.
And I was so damn blind to it that it took his mating with Morgana and sharing his big heart for me to realize what an absolute fucking donut I’ve been.
No wonder she’s giving me the stink eye since they came out of that room; she knows.
“Damn it, Briarton,” I mutter as I push off the door and slink over to my dresser. “You’re an idiot of the highest order and have been for years. Now you have to figure out how the hell to quit being an ass and make it up to him, especially because you want them both.”
Yanking my shirt over my head, I grunt in irritation at my own stupidity.
I toss it toward the hamper, then strip off the rest of my clothes, heading into my en suite to take a quick shower.
I make it as fast as I can, padding into my bedroom to dig up the most casual loungewear I own.
If I’m going to stop being the man my shithead father tried to train me to be, I need to stop doing the things I learned at his fucking feet.
Once I’m clean, fresh, and dressed in a tee and sweatpants, I slip on trainers and look in the mirror.
I don’t look a damn thing like a Briarton should when spending time with his superior and a Prince, but that’s a good thing.
I want to make changes—real, lasting ones—and not putting on a costume everywhere I go is a start.
It seems small, but I can barely remember a time when I didn’t see my father in a suit or dressy casual clothes that were perfectly pressed and accessorized.
Growth doesn’t come easily, but it always starts small, and this is my first step.