Page 10 of Princess Seeks Dragon
“She spoils me rotten.” Ian beams. “Honey, you should be resting!” He places a scaly hand on her belly, and she squeezes it affectionately.
“I made breakfast, not a water feature, Ian!” Vanessa giggles and clings to my brother like he’s a treasure.
Nauseatingly, he clings back, one wing spreading over her shoulder, his tail curling around her waist as they walk. Even the arrow-shaped tail tip taps and strokes against her pregnant belly.
Hoarding. All dragons develop a hoard of something precious to them. All I have at the moment is my love of money and band patches from smoky underground band concerts.
Ian found his treasure, his precious things to hoard. That woman and his child.
“It was a long, long flight across the country. Took two days of flying, plus camping out overnight. I think I’ll get a shower and a nap, if that’s okay.”
Ian nods, nuzzling Vanessa’s cheek. “Guest bedroom at the top of the stairs, right-hand side.”
“Thanks, Ian. Night, Vanessa.”
I climb the stairs, ignoring the giggling I can hear coming from the kitchen. I’m happy for my brother. Really.
This could have been yours if you’d stayed, fool.
And marry a human? No, thank you. I know my duty.
Your duty? You mean your rebellion. Stubbornness? Vanessa’s having a dragonborn. Your mate could do the same for you, especially if you claim her as your treasure, mark her as yours.
I don’t want to think about my brother and his wife being intimate, but the way she wraps herself around him, the way his tail curls around her like there’s nothing even remotely unusual about a scaly, fangy monster cuddling a human? He’s marked her and mated with her in at least two of his forms, and you can’t convince me any different.
Because love is what matters, not genes, not looks, not money, y’ young wastrel. I can hear my father’s gruff voice in my head, feel the rapping of his knuckles on my horns.
Enough. Turn the brain off and look at the room I’m staying in—in the house that could have been mine.
It’s gorgeous. It’s a little apartment, really, just missing a kitchen.
There’s a king-size bed, a shower, and a tub that would just about hold Ian in his dragon form if he squeezed himself up tight... Huge. Rich.
Traitor.
Traitor to his own kind.
What could possess a man to do such a thing?
Aye, well. I only have to think about it for a month or so.
***
“SPRING IS THE BUSIESTtime. I’ll never complain about the pregnancy, but this trip—this trip could have been planned better. But, we’re on Murdo’s timetable, not ours. Best to travel now. If we wait until things die down a bit in the winter, he’ll be here.”
“Ian. I ran this garden center with you. I remember how busy spring... is...” My mouth hangs open as my brother’s mud-spattered green truck pulls into Kane Garden and Landscaping.
The little building we started with years ago has doubled in size and added a fenced-in lot that must be half an acre. Forklifts and pallet loaders are zooming about. Trucks with riding mowers chained to their flatbed trailers take up the first five spaces near the automatic door of the garden center itself.
“We have fifteen employees now, not counting Vanessa and myself. Honestly, we’re looking to hire a few more, at least for the season. We go down to a skeleton crew in the winter—no pun intended, we actually did have a Ziburini working here last summer—Lithuanian exchange student at the high school.” Ian moves around easily, hopping from the truck, plucking a withered petunia from a hanging planter, waving at a man sporting a fluorescent green shirt, and handing him a handful of cash with instructions to “Gas up your truck when you’re done with the football field at the high school! And don’t forget the baseball diamond!”
“Aren’t you Mr. Captain of Industry?” I say with a gasp, hand on my chest.
“And don’t you look like something that escaped from a punk rocker’s garage sale?” Ian snaps, tugging on my ponytail and flicking the collar of my long leather duster. “Sporting enough silver on your fingers and in your ears to tempt old Mrs. McInnerny to part with her teacakes! Is this your hoard, laddie?”
“Don’t call me ‘laddie.’ You’re not Dad, and I’m not a terrier.” But I have to smile. Mrs. McInnerny was a fierce old dragon who lived on the hill above us, and she hoarded two things—silver and Tunnock’s Tea Cakes. “Just tell me what you want me to do. Push a mower? Help carry parcels to the cars?”
“Manage the place and sub in when anyone calls out sick, or with school or vacation plans. Don’t let us go bankrupt or burn things down. Today, I’ll go over the bookkeeping and payroll software with you, then tomorrow we’ll go over the work schedule, and we’ll have a quick lunch meeting with Ezekial—he’s second-in-command for lawn and landscaping, and then Winnifred, who is second-in-command in charge of garden center and floral.”
