Chapter Twenty-one
Jimryr rose early and grabbed the notepad and pen he’d left by the bed.
Younger dragons teased him about not using the notes app on his phone, but sometimes, nothing beat a pen and paper.
He’d not recorded his feelings in some time, and quickly jotted down thoughts, particularly about reconciling the man he’d met as Griff with the dragon prince he now knew as Daire.
Daire slept on, so peaceful, curled on his side as he’d been all night, as the little spoon to Jimryr’s big one. What had Jimryr done to deserve to snuggle close to such a wonderful beta every night? Now, to show his gratitude.
He set the pen and paper aside and eased from the bed. Hadn’t he spotted eggs and bacon in the fridge? Maybe he’d find potatoes in the kitchen, too. Breakfast in bed might make Daire smile. He’d been through so much lately with the loss of his mentor, but now knew his brothers lived.
Wait, did he smell…coffee? Had Daire risen and made some earlier?
Jimryr strode down the hall, and… “What the actual fuck?” Two things registered at once: Sakaris on the couch in the living room, casually sipping coffee while dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and his own bare-assed naked state.
Oh, shit! He shielded his junk with his hands. Too late, judging by Sakaris’s smirk, though they were both dragons, so no strangers to nudity. “What are you doing here, and how did you get in?”
Sakaris raised a brow that possibly weighed as much as a small omega, which must have taxed his facial muscles from sheer mass alone.
He donned a disapproving scowl. “There you go, asking two questions at a time. I thought we’d been over this.
” His expression brightened. “Oh, my. Don’t tell me you’ve been away from our realm long enough to become modest.” He tutted.
“That will never do. How will you ever shift before the others? Besides, since I transported you here naked, I might add, you have no secrets from me.”
Jimryr dashed back to the bedroom and shook Daire’s shoulder. “Daire, we’ve got a guest of the mage kind.” He slipped on yesterday’s jeans and returned to the living room. “I ask again. What are you doing here?”
“You’re no fun at all,” Sakaris groused.
“Are you giving the young ‘un a hard time?” Zorah emerged from the kitchen, stirring a cup of coffee. She tipped her head to the side, running her gaze over Jimryr’s body.
“Must just be this old codger. You’ve never been modest with me.
Then again, you’re probably wise to cover up around him.
He fancied himself quite the player back in the day.
” Zorah waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, and if you really care about Daire, get him some decent coffee. Fresh beans, a grinder. He deserves better than the swill he buys.”
“Oh, you spoiled little human,” Sakaris retorted, nothing but affection in his smile. Apparently, they’d gotten over whatever made her hit him. Jimryr didn’t want the details. Not even a little bit. “How will you ever exist back in our world with no coffee?”
Zorah lifted her nose into the air. “Import beans and bash them with a rock if I have to. Coffee is nonnegotiable. I understand the Southern Continent raises a similar crop.”
“Did you want something?” Jimryr asked, folding his arms over his still-exposed chest.
Sakaris patted the couch cushion next to him. Zorah joined him. “Get some coffee and sit, Jimryr.”
Jimryr, a name he hadn’t heard much lately from the club.
They all still called him Jim, since Zorah did.
He prepared a cup of coffee but returned to standing in the doorway.
At least Zorah made drinkable coffee. “I’m waiting.
Dazzle me with why you came here so damned early.
The sun’s barely over the trees.” What if he and Daire had decided on good-morning sex?
“Obviously, we wanted to talk to you,” Zorah said. “Daire, too. As to how—”
“We’re mages,” Sakaris finished, wiggling his fingers. “Human locks don’t stand a chance, though this realm limits our abilities. I guess too much technology stifles magic.”
Completing each other’s sentences like an old mated couple. Jimryr surrendered and sat down in the chair farthest from the couch. The two of them together couldn’t be bringing good news. Wait! “You’re both mages?” Now Jimryr arched his brow—at his mentor.
Zorah inclined her head, flicking her fingers toward the fireplace. The arranged logs burst into flame. She must’ve set up the logs earlier. Nothing but ashes remained after last night. Showoff.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Such news could’ve been useful.
Sakaris answered, “We couldn’t tell anyone. Once we realized mages were being targeted, I sent Zorah here—” He lifted a hand to stop Zorah’s protests. “Against her wishes, but only a few mages remained by then. We couldn’t lose another. I couldn’t lose her.”
Zorah bumped her shoulder against Sakaris’s, mischief in her eyes. “You old softie.” Jimryr never expected to see the tough club president flirting and wasn’t so sure he’d walk away from the experience unscathed.
Pieces started slotting into place. “That’s how you knew where to find me the night I arrived. You also didn’t question what Sakaris told me to do, just helped me. Why didn’t you say something, at least to me?”
Zorah sighed, placing her cup on the rough-hewn log coffee table. “Announcing you’re a mage isn’t safe even in this world. Also, magic isn’t what you see on TV. We have abilities others don’t, but some of what others call magic is merely being observant and heeding the tales of our ancestors.”
“Portals?”
Sakaris explained, “Naturally thin places exist between Terra and Adrakus, which are affected by events and even the season. What you think comes at the snap of our fingers actually requires careful preparation, star charts, diagrams, or in the case of you and Daire, luck.”
“Rum. Don’t forget the rum,” Zorah added. “Although primo cannabis works in a pinch. I told you we had an elder who could sense new dragons; I just didn’t say I meant me. Your arrival said we’d be going home soon.”
“Soon? It’s been three years!”
“I’ve been here for thirty, and while I’m told I look good for my age, by human reckoning I’m one hundred and thirty. This three-hundred-years-if-he’s-a-day-old codger popped in now and then to keep me updated on the situation in our realm until recently.”
“Also, to keep the interest alive,” Sakaris supplied with a wink. He turned toward Zorah. “And I’ll have you know I’m only two hundred ninety.” Wrinkles formed on his forehead, and he wore a puzzled frown. “At least, I think.”
“For the tenth time.” Zorah smiled. “Yes, you needed to keep me waiting, didn’t you? You thought, given time, I’d forget all your bad habits.”
Oh, okay, perspective. Better to overlook the hints of intimacy. “I need to ask. Why didn’t the Goddess prevent what’s happening to our people?”
Sakaris took a sip of his coffee before replying.
“And do what? Strike down anyone who did an evil deed? Her followers have choices. Though her heart breaks at what we’ve become, the change happened slowly over centuries.
There are few mages left, and we must watch even more dragons die before we can rebuild.
Now, I won’t continue until Daire joins us.
I don’t enjoy repeating myself, and you're bound to ask the same questions.”
“Liar,” Zorah snapped, rolling her eyes. “If I had a gold piece for every time you told me about the three mages and the tavern….”
Sakaris let out a put-upon sigh. “Okay, I don’t mind repeating myself but want to make sure I tell the same story to you both. Nothing causes more confusion than leaving out a key part to one and not the other.”
“I’m here,” Daire mumbled, stumbling down the hall, tousled, sexy in jeans and a tight T-shirt, and only partially awake. Were his eyes even open? He plunked down in a nearby chair, grabbed the cup of coffee Jimryr offered, and took a gulp.
The familiarity warmed Jimryr’s heart. He took the cup into the kitchen for a refill. Once he returned, Daire demanded of Sakaris, “Did you cause Griffin Hodges’s wreck?”
Sakaris nearly spat a mouthful of coffee. “What? No! I’d never harm Nate’s grandson. I might’ve manipulated the time of your arrival after discovering the accident, but there’s nothing I could’ve done for the human. Adrakus and Terra have slightly different timelines, tweakable if you know how.”
Daire’s gaze strayed to a photo over the mantel. “You knew Nate?”
“I brought him here. Or rather, I brought Corentin here at his request. He wanted to stay until his court abandoned the idea of arranging a match, but when I returned for him, he didn’t want to come home.”
“Because of Doc.” Daire moved his gaze from the photo to Sakaris.
Sakaris nodded toward the picture of Doc and Nate. “Yes, because he wouldn’t leave his human. I’d be happy to tell you more later. Right now, we have little time.”
“Where are my brothers? Are they okay? Why can’t I see them, even for a minute?”
“Your brothers are both fine, and each has gained a mate.” Sakaris gave a knowing smirk. “I can see they’re not the only ones. All three Thorne brothers have found their matches, something they had to accomplish to obtain their destinies. You’ll see them again soon.”
Before Jimryr or Daire could say another word, Sakaris offered, “Daire, your father kept your court out of the many skirmishes tearing other courts apart. Urien long sought to be king, not simply of your court, but he intended to sweep the remaining dragons into his net. He worked clandestinely, making promises to other alphas: get him on the throne, and he’d give them each a court.
All those courts would answer to him, of course. ”
Urien? The man who refused to even tie his own bootlaces, according to Mystral’s brother? “How can he do that? He doesn’t have the power, does he?” Jimryr knew little about Urien Thorne, but he’d heard nothing good.