Chapter Eleven
Daire stared at the “Flames and Wings” message board on his laptop. One member called himself Prince of Thornes. Had Daire finally found Elouan or Anrai? He had to find out. No photos, only a dragon claw for an icon, similar to the trinket Elouan wore on a cord around his neck.
Most F others evinced a close connection, with an intimate touch or a tremendous amount of eye-fucking.
Jim popped into his mind again. Would he dance with Daire if he were here, or had he gotten all he wanted? Daire might never know.
His ambling brought him to the back of the club, where four tables sat pushed together. Everyone gathered around was young and pretty, with an air of entitlement and sneers for passersby. Most were human. Four were not.
The alpha at the head of the table radiated smug superiority, with the two betas, all the humans, and the lone omega hanging onto every word.
“And then I said to him, I said—” The leader glanced up, his furious gaze landing on Daire. “Excuse you? Do you want something?” The guy couldn’t have been older than twenty-one or two, with arrogance to spare.
“I’m looking for Prince of Thornes.”
“Well, you found him.” The guy thrust his chest out. “Do I know you?”
“I’m not sure. What court are you from?” Fuck. Not Elouan. Not Anrai. The pounding beat of the music drowned out Daire’s words before they reached human ears.
The guy straightened, putting on a power display without the dominance to enforce the gesture. “Who wants to know?”
“Name’s Daire.”
One beta rose, pushing his way into Daire’s face. “Act like you got some respect,” he snapped. “That’s Prince Elouan Thorne of High Reaches Court you’re talking to. Their rightful king!”
Daire twisted to see around the guy. Nope, still not El. “That’s not Elouan Thorne.”
The beta’s face went red. “Why, you—”
Daire caught the guy’s flying fist in the palm of his hand, spun, and forced the arm behind the beta's back. “You wouldn’t last a month in Adrakus.”
The guy squeaked. Daire shoved his arm higher.
“Elders teach betas to fight from a young age, and more importantly, when and where to fight. You threw a punch in this crowded place, bringing attention to yourself. I’ll bet you’ve never been to our home world since somebody brought you here.
You probably still wore pieces of your egg’s shell. ” He shoved the beta away.
The guy turned, rubbing his wrist, the haughtiness in his eyes now replaced by fear. Daire didn’t like invoking fear unless he had to, but the punk kid needed a lesson in manners.
“Prince Elouan” slithered over to stand in front of the beta.
“What’s the meaning of this? You coming here and harassing my friends.
” He poked a finger into Daire’s chest. “You’re nothing but a beta.
And a fucking ugly one too. What happened to your face?
Cut yourself shaving? Show some respect to an alpha. ”
Daire growled. He wouldn’t respond to the dig. He’d heard worse. “If you really were Elouan Thorne, you’d remember me breaking your finger the last time you poked me.”
“But I am Prince Elouan.” The fake prince sounded less self-assured now.
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Steak. Like all dragons.”
Elouan preferred fish. Or pastries. “How old is your youngest brother?”
“An…Anrai’s eighteen.”
“Ahhck!” Daire said, mimicking a buzzer on one of Doc’s game shows. “Prince Anrai is probably older than you.”
The fake prince didn’t know when to quit, pushing into Daire’s face—a whole three inches shorter than Elouan. “I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else. I’m the rightful king of the High Reaches Court.”
Daire couldn’t help his internal disgust bleeding into his words. Or his disappointment. “Oh, how I wish you were.”
“I am! How dare you question me!”
Daire shook his head slowly from side to side, regret tearing his heart into tiny pieces. He should’ve known the message-board posts were too good to be true. He’d come all this way in part to reunite with Elouan or Anrai. “If you were Elouan Thorne, you’d recognize your own damn brother, Daire!”
All at the table sat in stunned silence. Daire spun on his heel and stormed off, realizing only now how much he'd set his heart on seeing his brother again, and hoping the humans were so wasted they wouldn't remember the conversation, if they'd even heard anything.
Oh, how badly dashed hopes hurt.
A long night of little sleep and a lot of disappointment made for a grouchy beta. Still, Daire made himself somewhat presentable for his business meeting, shifting his focus to the task at hand.
At least this part of the trip went his way, though the over four-hour trip back didn’t do his spinning thoughts any favors. He wouldn’t tell Doc about his fruitless search for his brothers; he’d heard enough bad news these days.
He went to Doc’s house immediately upon returning, but Reggie the attendant gently shooed him out the door once he’d tucked Doc in for the night.
With too much going on in his head for rest, Daire visited Joe’s, parking on a stool in a bar just beginning to fill for the evening.
He’d chosen the same seat near the door as the last time, though his gaze drifted to where he’d first seen Jim, not realizing the anticipation he carried in his heart until an empty barstool removed any hope.
No Jim. Well, of course not. He’d made himself perfectly clear he had other places to be.
Hadn’t Daire been like-minded? Some downtrodden song played. Why wasn’t more country music uplifting? Or maybe Daire’s mood projected onto his surroundings.
Keith plunked a bottle of Daire’s favorite beer on the bar in front of him. “Expecting someone?” He trained his gaze toward the empty barstool.
“No. Do I have to have a reason to come in here? Can’t I come in just for your scintillating company?”
“No, you don’t need a reason,” Keith agreed with a wink, “but I love the eye candy. You had folks talking for days after you practically hauled Hot Biker out of here. Ah, back in my single days….”
Oh, great. The last thing Daire needed—to bring attention to himself. “Right time, right place.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Don’t you believe in fate at all?”
“Not really.” Not unless the Goddess herself made something happen.
“More’s the pity. Don’t look now, but two of the cousins are here. One’s staring at you.”
“Prob’ly wants the biker’s phone number, which I don’t have.” Hell, Daire hadn’t even asked.
He drank a few beers and went home alone—as he did four times over the next week.
“So how did it go?” Doc asked, pulling his cards closer to his nose to stare through his bifocals.
“I got the contract. We start next week.” Daire studied his cards, then laid them down on the folding table between his and Doc’s chairs. “Two pair.”
Doc’s eyes shone, but his smile lacked its normal vibrancy. “Full house.” He spread his cards out on the table.
“You ain’t cheating, are you, Doc? That’s three hands in a row.” Three hands Daire did everything in his power to let Doc win.
“Never with you.” Doc sighed, shifting in his chair. “Are you still swimming at night? Exercising your wings?”
“Every chance I get.” Though the experience wasn’t the same without Doc.
“Good. Keep it up. You need to find a remote place where you can shift and practice flying. The longer you delay, the more difficult it’ll be.”
Daire had already accepted the fact that his feet would never again leave the ground. And how could he practice flying without another dragon there to catch him if he fell? One who wouldn’t laugh at his failure.
“Now, take off your shirt. Let me have a look.”
Daire whipped his T-shirt over his head, moved the card table, and went to his knees, back to Doc.
Doc palpated a few areas of thick scar tissue. “Does that hurt?”
Daire flexed his shoulder. “No. Tight. But no more than usual.”
“Are you still working out at the gym?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a massage might help.”
“Maybe.” Daire wouldn’t mention not wanting a stranger touching his scars.
Doc placed a frail hand on Daire’s shoulder. “You must promise me to continue your therapy after I’m gone.”
Daire whipped his head around to stare at Doc. “Stop talking like that. I told you, you’re not going anywhere for a long, long time.” He couldn’t.
Doc gave a sad smile. “Daire, listen to me. I’m dying.” He’d said “Daire” and not “Griff.” He’d only done so a handful of times in the past three years, and only when trying to make a point.
“I always listen to you.”
“Good. Now help me to bed, please. I’m tired.” Doc yawned for emphasis.
Daire didn’t like being dismissed. Sometimes Doc pushed people away when he wanted to hide his pain. Sound familiar? Daire offered to move in, but Doc said, “Who’ll keep the cabin company? What if Nate’s ghost wants to talk?” He had the most creative ways of saying no without saying no.
After they’d gotten him settled into bed, Doc asked, “Did you bring Nate’s guitar?” a touch of wistfulness in his tone.
Maybe Doc wasn’t running Daire off after all. “It’s in the truck.”
“Go get it, if you don’t mind. I want to hear the song I like.”
Daire obeyed. Anything to ease Doc’s pain, if even only for the duration of a well-loved song.
Daire hadn’t quite mastered the instrument, but his audience of one never seemed to mind.
He settled on a chair near Doc, quietly strumming.
Doc hummed along, eyes closed, with a beatific smile on his face.
In moments like these Daire could clearly picture a younger version of Doc, recalling several photos in the cabin, when he and Nate had been younger and very much in love.
When the song ended, Doc said on a yawn, “Thank you. Nate always loved that song.” Over three years gone, yet Doc’s devotion only seemed to grow.
Would Daire ever find so deep a love? “Need me to take you to your appointment tomorrow?”
“No, Reggie will on his way to class. I’ll get an Uber home.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking a few hours off work.” Reggie might study nursing, but he didn’t know Doc the way Daire did. Didn’t care about the man like Daire did.
Nobody could, except maybe Nate.
“I thank you, but it’s unnecessary. Now, I heard the front door, which means Reggie is here to make sure I take my meds. You needn’t worry about me.”
Oh, but Daire did worry, because his sensitive dragon nose smelled the truth. Despite all the doctors tried to do, the cancer kept spreading. Doc would never get to meet Elouan or Anrai.
He truly was dying, and Daire couldn’t do one damned thing to stop the inevitable.