Chapter Two
DOMINIC
I should have known better.
I did know better, but I’d been so sure that this time, even my father would see sense. That he’d want to involve his son, his heir in the negotiations that were taking so much of his time.
I’d tried. I’d really tried, had let Rhodri see how much I wanted this when I’d asked—pleaded, really—to be allowed to participate. For him to include me in the ongoing talks with Abimelech Mortimer.
Rhodri hadn’t considered it even for an instant. He’d set down his pen with an irritated click. Then he’d looked at me.
“Out of the question.”
I’d been prepared for that. Had spent hours working out what I’d say. “But—”
“You’re too volatile to trust with something like this.” Rhodri’s tone was final. “And frankly, Dominic, you know that. You’re wasting my time even asking.”
And that was that, underlined by the way he returned his attention to the paper he’d been reading, as if I were no longer in the room. Well, God forbid I should waste my father’s time. But Rhodri wasn’t my father in any way that counted. Just my biological sire and my head of family.
I wasn’t good enough. Too impulsive, too reckless, too—everything. Oh yeah, I knew exactly what Rhodri thought of me. He’d told me enough times. But I’d wanted this badly enough that I’d still hoped.
I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“Fuck.” I tripped over a tree root, catching myself against the rough bark of another tree.
And I stood there, chest heaving. Not so much from the speed with which I’d been striding up the hill as from my feeling of fucking helpless fury.
Again. The one I was so familiar with that, some days, it felt as if there was nothing else to me.
And just to rub salt into an inflamed wound, a strange dragon had come into my territory. Into my home.
I scoffed and pushed myself away from the tree, continuing through the rough grass leading to the top of the hill.
From there, I could look down on the sprawling house that was both my responsibility and yet not, and dream about being somewhere else.
Anywhere else, where someone just might have the courtesy to inform me of a strange dragon’s presence.
Not only as heir to the headship but as a member of the family who lived there.
A strange dragon who’d been not that much older than me, and who’d been so damn laid-back about venturing into an unknown family’s territory that I’d wanted to send a burst of flame at him. Anything to get him to react.
Instead of which he’d stood there, solid as a rock and about as expressive, his messy light brown hair the only thing about him that actually looked like it had a personality.
The calm confidence in his square face and hazel eyes as he announced he was about to walk into Rhodri’s lair bordered on folly.
Unless he knew something I didn’t. Which meant, whatever game Rhodri was playing, he was in the middle of it.
I turned slowly, taking in the view. From here I could see other dragons coming and going from the house as if I were God. Or Rhodri Bedwyr, observing their lives and deciding how to move them around his board.
I turned away, and my dragon stirred, excited by the sight of the river.
One day. One day, I’d fly along it in daylight the way my dragon so longed to do, until the sun reflecting from the water made my scales shine so brightly no one would be able to see me.
I’d be a creature of light, untouchable, uncageable.
But not today. My dragon pushed again, hopefully, and I had to remind him of the risk of a human seeing us.
If I ever did shift in daylight, it wouldn’t be my father I’d have to face.
It’d be an instant death sentence from every head of family in the country, and I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of looking down on me that way. I’d had enough of being judged.
My dragon was still restless, twisting inside me, wanting to burst forth to ride the winds and just be. No thoughts, no father, no limits.
“Tomorrow night,” I promised. Not much longer, then we’d both taste freedom again. For a while.
Puffing out a frustrated breath, I turned and walked down the gentler slope that led to the village.
Not that there was anything to do there—early evening in rural Wales?
Don’t make me laugh. Even the big Airbnb was empty this week.
Which was a damn shame because some of those guests enjoyed a bit of distraction while they were here.
And I knew I could be very distracting. I’d been told so enough times.
“Dominic!”
I looked up at the high-pitched shout to see Rae opening the gate from the village, Teddy clutching her hand and waving wildly at me. His bright red wellies hadn’t prevented muddy splashes reaching his trousers, and Rae winced as she followed my gaze.
“I know,” she said. “He’s going to have to change before supper.”
“I found something!” Teddy was jumping up and down. He seemed oblivious to the fact he was standing in a puddle, illustrating exactly how he’d got mud splashes beyond his boots.
And the smile on his face… I couldn’t resist. I went over to him, crouching on my heels while keeping enough of a distance to avoid the splashes. “Show me?”
Teddy thrust his free hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out an average-sized pine cone. A muddy, average-sized pine cone.
“It’s the biggest one ever! Like the king of pine cones.”
“That’s a lot of pine cone,” I agreed.
“You can have it if you want,” Teddy said, and he meant it.
And God, Teddy was what, five years old? Just a dragonet. Yet the generosity and trust with which he was offering me something so precious to him left me almost dizzy.
“You keep it,” I said, rising to my feet and fighting a sudden, odd urge to ruffle Teddy’s blond hair. I didn’t know where that came from, but only his mother should do that. “Start a collection,” I added, and Teddy’s face lit up.
“Well, thank you very much,” Rae said, doubtless envisaging a bedroom full of pine cones.
With a grin to myself, I turned back to Teddy. “But they’re best when they’re dry, so maybe don’t take the muddy ones home? Except for this one, of course—everyone needs a foundational pine cone.”
Teddy beamed as he clutched the pine cone to his chest, smearing mud over his coat.
“See you later,” I said, aiming it at both of them and turning away.
“Aren’t you—” Rae stopped as I swung back, raising my eyebrows. “I mean, isn’t it almost supper?”
I shrugged, not because I didn’t know but because I didn’t care, and left her staring after me.
I was in the village high street before I knew it, with dusk closing in and the streetlights flickering on.
The place wasn’t large enough for the local authority to justify lights, but as they made it harder to spot dragons overhead after dark, Rhodri had pulled strings.
Even the fucking streetlights answered to him.
Pulling out my phone as I reached the pub, about the one place where I was guaranteed a signal, I sent a text to the group chat.
9pm tomorrow.
Heath responded instantly. I’ll be there 9.30.
God, he just couldn’t help himself, could he? It was probably why I liked him.
Answers came in from everyone else, confirming.
It was one of my few rules that all of this had to go through text.
No one was allowed to mention it out loud, just in case we were overheard.
One of the downsides of living in a house surrounded by family, some of whom were way too nosy for their own good.
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I needed it. My dragon needed it. Like that urge I’d had to ruffle Teddy’s hair, I wanted to comfort my dragon for having to wait. But only mothers of small children gave comfort—it was weak.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and thought about returning to the house. To where that strange dragon waited, calm and inscrutable. Whatever business had brought him here, he knew more about it than I did.
Which was a fucking insult in itself.