by Starla Night
He should. In a few hours, their goods would reach Draconis markets. The freighter was circling the main planet now, requesting port inspection. Soon, their influencers would leak the first pictures of the new products to the hungry public.
Cheryl had been put off long enough.
He wanted to be near her so badly the craving for her was starting to overtake his back itch. He wanted to be with her even more than he wanted to burst free his dragon wings. And he hadn’t wanted anything that badly. Not since he was a youth desperately seeking recognition, validation, his place in the world.
But the other part of him was terrified.
What if there was a crisis? What if the number one rank was within their grasp and something went wrong? Something only he could resolve?
From the moment his mother had refused to acknowledge him, he’d thrown himself into work. Perfecting his scores so everyone would need him on their team. Perfecting his studies so everyone would need him during exams. Perfecting his military record so everyone would need him in their unit.
He couldn’t leave the launch now. He had to be needed.
Mal retreated to the easy answer. “Her art show isn’t for two hours. This is our final launch. I will see it to the end.”
Amber’s delicate brows drew together. She was normally so careful to remain expressionless. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it’s the beginning.”
“Of?”
“I am sorry it’s ending,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed seeing you every day. After this ends, I still want to see you.”
What?
He focused fully on her. “Why?”
She smiled. “Because I like you.”
Amber just… liked him?
“I’ll be sad if I can’t see you anymore. So come up with a good new company idea. Okay? And we can all stay together, here, just like this.”
His throat closed. He didn’t know what to say.
Of all of them, Amber had autonomy. A female dragon had only to select a rich, worthy, aristocratic male for her mate and she could go anywhere in the Empire. The rest of them had to scramble and find a landing place.
Amber didn’t need him. She’d never needed him. He only invited her to join the company because he was inviting everyone else and he didn’t want her to feel slighted. Her agreement to come had always mystified him. Especially since, although she questioned his judgment sometimes, she’d never tried to take over.
“I want to see you even if there’s no company,” she added.
He cleared his throat. “You can. Anytime.”
“Good.” Her smile faded to her normal, quiet expression. “Go to Cheryl.”
He wavered hard. “She hasn’t summoned me.”
Her eyes glowed. “Mal. You know she’s not a dragon female.”
For the second time, someone was reminding him of this. Cheryl said the same thing. “Yes. Obviously.”
Amber held his gaze. Careful, in her way, to make her point but not over-intimidate. “Cheryl will never summon you like a dragon female. She is a human woman. You must listen to her as you would listen to an equal.”
He growled. “What’s your point?”
“You must respect her wishes.”
His anger darkened. For the first time, his attention left the launch and focused only on his sister. “When have I disrespected her wishes?”
“Do you not know?”
He thought hard.
“She will not overpower you with flames and claws. Consider her desires. That is your respect back to her.”
With those words, Amber left the office.
What did she know? Had Cheryl confessed disrespect? When? How? She had not ripped Mal’s head off, either in the way he was used to or in the human meaning of the word. When Cheryl raised her voice, it did not hurt his ears in the least.
Mal resumed his pacing. He could raise his voice and summon the rest of his siblings for their opinions. Kyan was monitoring the building for any last-minute sabotage from Sard. Alex had queued up the communications room in case of a dire emergency.
Pyro was in his office. He couldn’t stand to watch Mal pace. He’d had to leave just to keep from pummeling Mal into a heap.
Regarding Cheryl, Mal intended to make her happy, of course. He did that in all the ways he knew how: by provisioning her with a lair, by pleasuring her body, and by attempting to impregnate her with the dragonlets all females desired.
But… Amber was not entirely wrong. Cheryl kept demanding something odd.
She kept asking for his time.
Not for riches. Not for an aristocratic position. She would be pleased for him to simply be at home with her. Spending time together. Doing nothing at all.
Odd. Strange. Unfathomable.
And impractical.
Still, he would visit her art show today. Perhaps Amber was correct. Perhaps he should go soon.
The itch in his shoulder blades grew.
Just a little longer.
Perhaps he could afford a short honeymoon. She had demanded it and accused him of not following any human marriage traditions. So, after their argument, Mal had consulted a human male. Darcy had laughed hysterically, and then he had explained all the ways the dragons had misunderstood the proposal traditions. A honeymoon was essential to a strong marriage.
“For what purpose?” Mal had demanded.
“For spending time together.” Darcy had smiled at him like he was an idiot. “Why else?”
Humans and their free time.
But, perhaps… It wasn’t that Mal didn’t want to spend time with Cheryl. No, he had to actively fight the soul-bending impulse to spend all his time with her. Locking her up with him for eternity would not be a bad fate.
He couldn’t though. Spending too much time with her was extravagant. Decadent. Above him.
Aristocrats spent all their time with their loved ones. Mal was the son of a brimstone miner. Death would come for him before abdication of duty.
And yet Cheryl didn’t care about his status either. Aristocrat? Low class? Outer Rim dragon? She preferred him. She wanted to spend time with him.
Just like Amber.
They both wanted to see him.
Mal wished to spend time with them, too.
What if he could have those things?
The urge pulsed in his shoulder blades. It drove into him like a knife.
What if he was needed not because he worked hard and earned love, but because he was loved just as he was? Cheryl had told him. How many ways did he need to hear this to finally believe it?
Mal turned to the glass shaft. Yes, he would fly to Cheryl now, wherever she was. They would spend the rest of the day together. His siblings would handle any problems from the launch.
He opened the window. His back shuddered.
“Mal!” Alex raced into the office. “You’re still here. Come to the communications room. Hurry!”
Mal left the shaft and flew after Alex. His brother shimmered, leaving the ground as he raced along the hall. “What happened?”
“Our sales are being embargoed.”
“But we made the deadline to use the ports!”
“We did use the ports. Our products made it to retail outlets. But across the whole surface of the planet, our stores are closed down.”
“What?”
“Empress Horribus stopped all sales. She found out you’re not going to marry her.”
Chapter Thirty
Mal stormed down the hall after Alex. “The Empress found out? Our mother was supposed to wait on announcing our marriage until after she met Cheryl.”
Which would be after the launch.
Everything was supposed to happen after the launch.
“Someone else told the Empress.” Alex pushed the conference door open. “Her adviser is calling now.”
Mal burst into the small conference room. His other siblings beat him there; they turned to him for leadership.
A smarmy, blue dragon sneered from the tin
y wall screen. He was a greasy, archaic, sniveling stereotype of the conniving aristocrat.
“There you are. Finally. It’s amazing a little male upstart like you could ever pretend to get so far. And the son of a brimstone miner dares to turn up your dirty, squished snout from taking the claw of our holy Empress? Prepare to receive the downfall you deserve.”
He roared. “I am Malachite Onyx!”
His siblings joined him. All roared, “Onyx!”
The adviser’s sneer froze on his face. “Well, the low class certainly are loud.”
“We are wealthy and powerful,” he snarled. “Take your whiny complaint to our mother. She will give you an aristocrat’s answer!”
He paled. “Your mother accepted our marriage offer. The Empress kindly deigned to consider your unworthy, low class, Outer Rim self. How dare you take another mate? You are obligated to marry Empress Horribus. Prepare to watch your company’s destruction.”
His siblings growled their fury. Amber shone with a crackling rage.
“You might as well give all your products from this launch to the Empress as compensation.”
Mal held the male’s attention. “So this is about money?”
He sniffed. “How crude. You’re threatening to embarrass the Empress. In less generous times that would be reason for her to execute you and your family line.”
“This is the modern era, old timer.”
“You’re forced to sell anyway now that your mother has foolishly given away your port privileges.”
So it was about the money. Or was it? The Empress would use the military to block their stores and outright embargo them.
He had lost his final chance to become a number one company. Number two was as high as he could go.
There was only one choice.
He would sell for a huge profit, keep his siblings together, and found a new company that hit number one.
His lips curled over his teeth. “Fine. The Empress wants to buy this corporation? We’ll begin negotiations.”
Cheryl refused to accept her mother’s rejection.
“I can’t go to this show,” her mom said from the ratty old bed. “I’ll go next time. I promise.”
“When?” Cheryl asked, bitterly. “When will you have time?”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“You’re always saying ‘another time,’ so when is it?”
“I don’t have to sit here and take this.” Her mom got to her feet and stormed past, pulling on her thin cotton shirt as she strode down the hall.
Cheryl trailed after her. Heat rose until her whole body felt like she was on fire. Her accusation burst out. “You never do anything for me!”
“How dare you!” Her mother whirled on her with trembling anger. “I am working myself to the bone for your future. I need one day off. Can’t you give me one day?”
“It’s my last art show.” She knew she was being unfair and her mom was right but she couldn’t help it. She’d endured being alone and silent for so long. “I never ask you for anything. This is the one time—”
“You ask me for stuff all the time,” her mom denied. “Last week, it was to go on a trip.”
“That was at Christmas!”
“No, it was—”
“Yes, it was!” Cheryl bunched her hands into fists. “I wanted to go to the coast like we used to. Before my internship started.”
Her mom started to protest, then stopped. She remembered the internship part at least. “That was last month at the latest.”
“I’ve been working at my internship since December.”
Her mom’s mouth closed with a click. She sighed again, long and hard, and the gray exhaustion closed over her like a wave. “I can’t tell if I’m coming or going anymore. I just don’t have anything left.” She sank onto the couch and leaned over to lace her shoes. “You’ll have to forgive me. Okay? Maybe I can cut back my shifts once you’re done. Then you’ll have your mom back.”
“Cut back now,” she said softly. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Please. Come to my art show.”
“Cheryl, don’t be self-centered.”
That last word snapped in Cheryl’s chest. The reaction spread outward, raising heat, turning her insides into brittle salt.
She was self-centered? She wanted to spend time with her mom, and she didn’t want her mom to work so hard, and she was the self-centered one?
Cheryl smacked her palm against her bare chest. “You didn’t even notice my outfit.”
Her mom sat back and looked at her. Really looked at her. “I’m sorry. The dress looks nice.”
Well, but… okay. It was a start.
She had found the dress in Mal’s closet. It wasn’t short or low-cut like the vintage pin-ups, but it was a nice, subdued black with a devilish red underskirt. The underskirt shimmered like secret dragon scales when she turned quickly. She’d traded her tennis shoes for matching red flats and put gem-tone barrettes in her hair. Not to pull her hair back from her face. Just to accent the hair hanging down.
Although it wasn’t as brave as the vintage 50s dress, it also wasn’t jeans and a hoodie.
Her mom glanced at the clock and rose. “We’ll talk later. Have a good show.”
The dismissal hurt. It hurt, it hurt.
And she realized the truth. “There won’t be a later, will there?”
Her mom groaned. “Of course there will be. Are you trying to start a fight? I’ve got to go.”
“So go.” Her jaw ached from pinching her lips together so hard to keep the tears in. The woman who meant the most to her was letting her down. “But I won’t be here when you get back. I thought you should know.”
“So dramatic.” Her mom tugged Cheryl, stiff, into her arms. She smelled like cool hands and lily-scented lotion and Mom. “You can handle this art show. You’ll be fine.” She rocked Cheryl gently. “I know you.”
“No, you don’t.” It made her heart break. Because her mom didn’t know her. Not anymore. “I’m getting married on Friday. Did you know that?”
Her mom released her and stepped back with a frown. “What?”
“I’m engaged. I wanted to introduce you to my fiancé at the art show.”
“The art show? You’re still—no.” She barked out an incredulous laugh and held up her hands. “There’s no need to make up a fake fiancé. I promise I’ll pay more attention. Let’s finally plan that trip, okay? We’ll do it tonight after you get home.”
“I moved out a week ago.”
Her mom shook her head. Clearly, she thought this was more drama. Lies to get Cheryl’s way.
Cheryl’s lips trembled. Her mom didn’t notice anything. “Didn’t you see? All my stuff’s been gone.”
“Be serious.”
“I moved out a week ago to live with my fiancé.” Her voice quavered, and at least her mom sobered up and listened. “He’s a dragon alien and CEO of the company I’m interning at. We’re trying for a baby so the matriarch won’t… Well, it’s this whole deal. I’m going to be a major stockholder. I guess.”
Of some company, even after this one got disbanded.
“And my art is getting famous on the other planet. Weirdly. So you don’t have to work the extra shifts anymore. You can take time off and relax.” Her tears spilled over. She scrubbed her cheeks. “I know you’re doing everything for me but, sometimes, I miss you.”
“Cheryl.” Her mom took a deep breath. She pinched her nose. “You’re clearly going through a lot right now. But, look. You’ve been doing art shows your entire life. One of these days, you’ll have confidence in your own work and stand proudly in front of it without needing your mom by your side. You’re almost eighteen!”
“Twenty-two.” She sniffed.
“What? Where did the last… okay, the point is, you can do this. You’re an art show pro. It’s going to be okay.”
No. It wasn’t okay.
She’d told the truth. She’d been honest. Her mother still thought she was ma
king everything up. And she hadn’t noticed Cheryl had been gone for a whole week.
“You didn’t even notice.” She hiccupped. “Apparently you never missed me!”
“Cheryl!”
“I’m sorry. You know how to reach me. And if you’re not interested in attending the wedding, I’ll send you an invitation to the baby shower.” She strode out the front door, leaving her mom in the living room with one shoe on and one off. The door slammed behind her.
And that was how she moved out. Apparently.
The MAX ride to her university was sticky and crowded. Cheryl got out a compact and wiped up her face, neatened her dress, and applied a light touch of makeup.
Well, she’d done it. She finally told her mom how she felt.
For all the good it had done.
But, even though her mom thought she was lying and treated her like a child, Cheryl felt okay. She’d expressed herself honestly. All the practice with blunt, in-your-face Mal had rubbed off. Now, if she could channel confidence when dealing with her professor, maybe she could pull herself out of the spiraling grade.
The rest of her class was buzzing in the professional gallery as they set up their installations. Her professor’s connections had secured visits from a bunch of donors. Many were high-placed advertising executives seeking new blood.
Nerve twinged in her belly as Cheryl plugged her tablet into the larger panel on the wall and set the display. She’d run out of time to print off her new pieces, so this was her compromise. Raw, on the monitor, final products.
Her classmates paused and stared.
She’d dumped her class pieces and instead displayed her three favorite dragon sketches. Were they ones Amber had shipped? Cheryl didn’t know or care. They were hers.
On the left, a voluptuous rockabilly dragon made a too-cool-for-you kiss while she lounged on the hood of a cherry red convertible. On the right, a generously proportioned sailor dragon tucked a spy glass behind one frilly ear while she leaned over a ship’s railing. And in the center, a bold, in-your-face dragon stuck her hands on her ample hips and dared anyone to critique her dessert-filled 50s banquet table. She was dressed in Cheryl’s favorite outfit: black skirt, red lacy shirt, and plump, polka dotted hair bow.
