by Lili Zander
“The rest of the pack isn’t bad,” he replies with a shrug.
It’s not just my life that’s changing. Silas’ world is being upended too. Because of Erik’s generosity, he can now have regular transfusions. He isn’t cured, but his sickness can be managed. But at the same time, his best friend Pete is dead, and I’m all grown-up, and now the mate of dragons. I’m glad he’s making new friends.
We sit around the table and dive into the pizza. I inhale my first two slices, and then I take a deep breath. “I want to go back to work.”
The guys go still. “To work? At the mall?” Bastian asks finally.
“Yes. I can’t sit around all day and do nothing. You guys are off doing your own thing, and I’m stuck here. I feel useless.” I glare at Mateo. “I thought you’d teach me how to do magic, but you’re too busy for me.”
He winces. “We haven’t been very attentive,” he says, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry about that.”
Rhys gives me a puzzled look. “Do you enjoy your job?”
Not even a little. I don’t know why I’m fighting to go back to Trendz. I’m like the kid who asks for five candy bars at the grocery store, just to see if I’ll get it. “Sometimes I do,” I lie. “It’s work. Nobody is one-hundred-percent-happy with their job all the time. That’s just the way it is. There’s always some amount of bullshit.”
Bastian surveys me thoughtfully. “You’re very cynical for someone so young.”
“I’m twenty-four.”
His lips twitch. “Indeed.”
Hang on. They’re dragons, and shifters live longer than Norms. “How old are you?”
Rhys starts to cough. Bastian clears his throat. “You should know,” he murmurs, an embarrassed look on his face. “My birth led to the curse, remember? I’m almost five hundred.”
“No fucking way.” I made out with a five-hundred-year-old guy? This isn’t a daddy-complex. It’s a great-great-great-great-great-granddaddy complex. Eeep.
I guess I did know that. On Sunday, they’d told me all about Gideon Zyrian cursing the dragons when Bastian’s mother died in childbirth. I just hadn’t put it together. “How about the rest of you?”
“Erik’s the oldest,” Casius says, reaching for another slice of pizza. “He’s five hundred and fifty-two. Mateo’s three-hundred and forty-five. I’m three-hundred and twenty-three. Rhys is the baby. He’s two-hundred and eighty-nine.”
Silas is trying not to laugh at my consternated expression. “Shifters live longer,” he says. “And dragons live the longest. You know that.”
Sure, I knew that. In the abstract.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by how different everything is in the dragons’ world. My life is changing so quickly. It’s hard to believe that last week, I was freaking out about how I was going to pay for Silas’ plasma transfusions. Seven days later, I’m the mate of five dragons whose combined age is over two thousand years old.
I just want to be normal for a little while longer.
“I have to work,” I repeat. “I’m not a billionaire like you guys. I need to make a living.”
Bastian leans forward. “You have money,” he says quietly. “You are our mate. Everything that’s ours is yours.”
I give him an exasperated look. “I don’t want you to give me money.”
“But you’re okay stealing it, little thief?” Rhys chuckles, giving me a fond look.
I glare at Rhys. Silas doesn’t know about my little safe-cracking attempt, and if he doesn’t stop talking, he’s going to give me away.
Bastian’s jaw tightens. “It doesn’t matter if you want it or not. It’s yours.”
Casius frowns. “Bastian, cut it out. Stop going master-of-the-universe on Aria.” He turns to me. “It’s not just our money that you have. It’s your own. Remember?”
Silas looks up, suddenly intent. “What money of your own?”
Ah. I’d forgotten about the gold bars that Raedwulf had dropped. I bite my lip, trying to figure out what I’m going to say to Silas. “Umm…”
Silas snorts at my discomfort. “Don’t try to think up a lie. I’ve already pieced together most of the story. It wasn’t that hard. Raedwulf hired you to steal from these guys, didn’t he? And you did it so you could pay the hospital bills.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a sheen of tears in his eyes.
I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry I broke my promise to you.”
He pats me on the back, and I know he’s not angry. “You know I worry about you, little cub.”
Silas loves to worry. Although, in this case, he was right to be concerned.
Bastian exhales. “You’re right,” he says to Casius. “Aria, I’m sorry. If going back to your job is important to you, then we won’t stand in your way. As long as you don’t try to get away from Tomas’ guards, you can go anywhere you want.”
I didn’t actually expect them to give in. Ugh. Now I have to go to work on Friday and listen to Brooke bitch and moan about corporate.
Talk about maneuvering myself into a corner. Smart move, Aria.
“Thank you. Oh, I was planning to meet Bea at the Cellar tonight.”
He nods. “Whatever you want. As long as Tomas’ men are with you.”
Wow, he’s being so reasonable, and I feel like a temper-tantrum-throwing toddler. “Would you like to join us?” I ask them.
An expression of pleased surprise flickers over Mateo’s face. “You want us there?”
Would it be greedy if I ate a fourth slice? I reach for it anyway and answer his question with one of my own. “You don’t think I do?”
Mateo’s lips curl into a small smile. “I think you feel trapped and resentful,” he says. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you don’t want to spend time with us.”
That’s a fairly accurate assessment—I have felt trapped and resentful this week. But Mateo is wrong about one thing. I do want to spend time with the dragons. I chose them on Sunday. If they’re my mates—and the magic is pretty damn certain that they are—then I want to get to know them.
“I’d like to have dinner with Bea first,” I tell my dragons. “But I’d love it if you guys joined us at Cellar. Bea and I should be there at nine.” A thought strikes me. “Oh, can I tell her about you?”
“Sure,” Rhys says easily. “You know her best. We trust your judgment.”
A warm glow spreads through me at that. “I’ll tell her about you, but I won’t tell her about the curse or the prophecy,” I reassure the guys. “Not because I don’t trust Bea, but because I don’t want to risk anything happening to her.”
Casius raises his eyebrows. “You’re going to tell your Norm friend that you have five mates? Is that going to be okay?”
My lips twitch. “Oh, trust me, it’ll be more than fine. Bea will totally understand the moment she sees you guys.” Thank heavens Silas isn’t an overprotective ‘date-my-daughter-and-die’ type. This conversation is mortifying enough.
Bastian raises his eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
I flush. They’re going to make me spell it out? “Because you’re all gorgeous,” I murmur. “I already know what Bea’s going to say. Why choose one when you can have all five?”
4
Erik
Why choose one when you can have all five?
When Aria says those words, it’s all I can do to keep myself from flinching.
I’m the oldest surviving dragon prince. I’ve seen magic. I’ve experienced love. I believe in destiny. The fates seem determined to tug us together, weaving the six of us into one tapestry.
I’ve lived long enough to know that it is unwise to reject your path. Yet reject it I must.
Bastian clears his throat. “You’ve probably noticed we haven’t been around much this week.”
“That’s something of an understatement,” Aria replies. An expression of hurt flickers across her face. “Look, if you don’t want me around, tell me. I thought you agreed that I could stay and help with the curse on Sunday, but ever since then,
you’ve been avoiding me.” She takes a deep breath. “Is this about sex?”
Silas gets to his feet. “If we’re going to talk about my daughter’s sex life,” he says pointedly, “Then I’m out of here.”
Aria’s cheeks go pink. “Sorry, Silas,” she mumbles. “Are you coming to Cellar tonight?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’ll just cramp your style. You kids have fun.”
Kids. I snort inwardly. I’m hundreds of years older than the wolf-shifter. Though right now, I don’t feel it. I feel like a teenager again, awkward and uncertain, unsure of what to say to Aria. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time.
Silas heads toward the front door. When it shuts behind him, Bastian frowns at Aria. “What do you mean, is this about sex?”
She doesn’t meet our eyes. “Well, you know. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“You think we’re avoiding you because you’re not putting out?” Mateo demands. “Seriously?”
Casius just shakes his head. “I warned you,” he mutters under his breath. “I told you it was a stupid idea that would backfire on us. I told you we should talk to her. Did you listen?”
Bastian exhales in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “Mausezähnchen,” he says quietly. “I seem to be making a habit of screwing up with you.”
“What’s going on, Bastian?”
“You told Rhys at the funeral on Monday that things were moving too fast and that you weren’t ready. We thought it would be a kindness to give you space.” Casius clears his throat, and Bastian amends his statement. “Okay, fine. Casius didn’t agree.”
She stares at him. “That’s why you’ve barely been around?”
Bastian meets her gaze squarely. “I’m not going to lie. I’m still conflicted about putting you in danger. I thought if we found Raedwulf…” His voice trails off.
“We were wrong, love, and we owe you an apology.” Rhys looks contrite. “Casius was right. You’re our mate. We need to involve you in our lives, not shelter you from it.”
I hadn’t done that with Gisele. She’d been my mate, cherished, loved, and cosseted. I thought my honor guards were sufficient to protect her, but I hadn’t accounted for Zyrian’s burning hatred.
Maybe this can be my role. I can teach Aria how to defend herself.
“So you’re going to involve me now?” she asks. “For real? You’re not going to shut me out?”
“I promise,” Bastian says seriously.
Aria takes a deep breath, and a smile breaks out on her face. “Okay,” she agrees. “Let’s start over. Tell me what you’ve found so far.”
“We’ve been trying to find Raedwulf and the other wolf,” Bastian says.
“Because of the diary?”
The diary is important, but that’s not why we want to get our hands on Raedwulf. “He tried to kill you,” I growl, joining the conversation for the first time. “Every day he’s alive, it is an affront to us.”
She gives me a startled look before turning back to Bastian. “I went to see the fox-shifter,” he continues.
“Nygaard?” Aria bites her lip. “That’s why Raedwulf hired me. Hagan Nygaard told him I could steal from the dragons.”
“Yes, I know.” Bastian’s voice is grim. “The only reason Nygaard is still alive is because I didn’t want him to know that we’re connected. He gave me an address for Raedwulf in Queens, but the wolf’s no fool. He hasn’t been back there.”
“Casius and I have been reading old manuscripts,” Mateo says. “Trying to find any clues on how to break the curse. That’s not going well either.”
“In the hospital, Raedwulf’s associate said that the wolf-shifter went to meet someone,” Rhys says. “Whoever that was, that person told him about the Bloodstone. I’m trying to figure out who that is.”
She gives me a curious look. “What about you, Erik? What are you working on?”
Mostly, I’m trying to find out who she is, but Silas was right. CPS doesn’t have any records, and Silas doesn’t remember anything. “I wrote it down so I wouldn’t have to remember,” he says with a helpless shrug. I’ve been tracking down every CPS employee who worked in the department twenty years ago.
“Everything else,” I reply instead. “Foxes are notorious for ignoring magical rules. I need to make sure the doctor who tried to hurt you faces trial.”
“Okay.” She leans forward and surveys us. “It’s a lot to take in,” she says softly. “Having five mates. Being part of a prophecy.”
“What would make it easier, tesoro?”
She blushes. “Could we hang out more?”
Rhys grins. “What a good idea, love. We’ve been so caught up in the curse and the prophecy that we’ve forgotten to have fun. Norms go on dates, don’t they? We should do that.”
“Dates?” Bastian turns to Aria. “Would you like that, mausezähnchen?”
Her expression is enthusiastic. “I really would.”
“Good.” Mateo waves his hand and five pieces of folded paper appear in front of Aria. “Shall we start tomorrow?” he asks. “Pick a name.”
She stares at the paper in front of her. “Dragon magic,” she murmurs. “It’s pretty impressive.” She reaches for one of the pieces and unfolds it, and her smile fades. “Erik,” she reads out loud.
Of course.
I get to my feet. The fates weave their web, and it doesn’t matter that my heart will break in the process. “I’ll pick you up at six,” I tell her, trying to keep the anger out of my voice and failing. “Be ready.”
5
Aria
In some sort of freak New York City magic, Bea and I arrive at Hasimoto at the same time. The hostess practically falls over herself to get us to our seats once I tell her I have a reservation and give her my name.
Bea whistles low. “Fancy place.”
Bastian. I should have guessed when he recommended this place that it wouldn’t be our usual Wasabi Bar, but this is over-the-top. The place is small, and the lighting dim. Dominating the center of the space is a miniature Japanese garden, with a red maple tree and a small koi-filled pond. The hostess leads us to a table that’s set in an alcove.
“No shit.” I’m having a hard time keeping myself from gaping.
Our waitress comes and informs us that everything is Omakase—chef’s choice—then takes our drink orders. Sake. All the sake.
“Okay,” Bea says when she’s out of earshot. “You going to tell me why we’re not gorging on three-dollar California rolls at Wasabi, and how we’re eating at a restaurant that’s so exclusive that there’s a six-month wait to get a reservation?”
Not if you’re a dragon prince, evidently. I smile at my friend. “Ah, Bea,” I tell her fondly. “I have missed your cut the bullshit approach to all things.”
Bea shrugs her shoulders. “It’s a lost art. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on? You didn’t win the lottery, did you?”
“How’s everything with Jesse?” I ask, not even trying to be subtle about changing the subject. Hopefully, I’ll get a pass because I’m not quite ready to discuss my situation just yet.
She raises an eyebrow and then relents. “He came over Saturday.”
“Ooo.” I’m kinda shocked she didn’t text me about her date. Bea’s not coy about these things. “Did you get your muffin buttered?”
She barks out a laugh, startling our waitress as she drops off our drinks. “Buttering my muffin? Really, Aria?”
I grin at her reaction. “You’re not the only one who can come up with clever euphemisms for sex, you know.”
Bea quirks an eyebrow. “You looked that up on the internet, didn’t you?”
Busted. “Maybe,” I say with a pout. “Fine. Okay. I Googled it on my way here.”
She shakes her head, a smile on her face. “You’re such a dork.”
“So… How did it go?” The sake goes down so easy that I’m convinced I’m going to be giggly and tipsy well before I get to Cellar.
Be
a sighs and takes a sip of her sake. “We got to second base.”
I grin to myself. “So there was some penis action?” I tease her.
She almost spits out her sake. “What? No! That’s not second base.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow, grinning at her reaction. “I told you I got to second base with Mateo and you texted me a bunch of eggplants.”
Bea laughs. “Lord, girl. I was just teasing you!” Then my words sink in. “Hang on. You said you kissed Rhys. Whoa. Did you also get to second base with Mateo? At the same party?”
“Oh no. No no no. This is all about Bea and her unbuttered muffin,” I say, refusing to let Bea change the subject. “Why didn’t he butter your muffin, incidentally? You didn’t change your mind, did you?”
Bea looks exasperated. “No. He’s taking things slow because he likes me. He says he wants to get to know me.” She rolls her eyes. “I want to get to know Jesse too. I just want to be naked while it’s happening.”
She’s so grouchy that it’s hard to keep myself from laughing. “Your poor, neglected, unbuttered muffin,” I commiserate. “Will he be at Cellar tonight?”
Bea’s pout turns into a Cheshire Cat-worthy smile. “I hope so.”
Our food arrives, and we are both distracted by the delicious looking food. The waitress sets plates down in front of us, explaining each dish. “This is monkfish liver nigiri, with a garnish of shiso and ponzu daikon,” she says. There’s also lobster sashimi, salmon sashimi, slivers of Ahi tuna, and so much more. The moment the waitress turns her back, Bea and I fall on our food like we haven’t been fed a decent meal in weeks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that my four bodyguards are eating too, at the closest table to us. Oh good. I’m not sure what the etiquette is here—everything’s so new to me—but I know I’d feel like a dick gorging myself on sashimi if they were going hungry.
As much as having guards irritates me—aside from the four inside the restaurant, there are three additional shifters outside—I can’t help but be thankful. Remembering Pete’s funeral and the ominousness of the closed casket is enough to keep me from getting too upset over needing babysitters.
