Page 4 of Purple Scales & Coffee Tales

Seriously, what was up with him today? Taran was usually sweet and quiet, never saying much.

You never got around to having coffee with him, though.

“I love the creative part, but the thought of being stuck in an office on a computer all day is giving me nightmares.” Brushing away a tear,I stared in the opposite direction. “And I’ll miss this place.” Crap. Another tear slid down my face.

Taran pulled out a fancy handkerchief from his suit and handed it to me. “Take this.”

“No, it’s fine, I—”

“Insist,” he finished my sentence.

“Thank you, Taran.” I dabbed at my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself. And trying to ignore that bossy Taran totally did it for me. “Time is just so strange to me, you know? I knew I’d leave eventually, but getting hit with it this morning? That sucked.”

He nodded slowly. “I understand what you are saying. Time is such a strange concept, don’t you think? It either goes by too quickly or feels like it’s not moving at all. I can imagine it’s no fun when someone takes away your decision, either.”

“No, it’s not. But hey, what can you do, right?” I tried to hold it together, but totally lost it when I saw Taran’s expression. It was a bit too understanding. “Don’t worry about me, Scales.”

Shit!I blushed.What the fuck is wrong with me?

He chuckled. “Scales? So, that’s what you call me?”

“Nah,” I drawled, knowing he totally saw through my lie.

“I like it.”

I kept replaying our conversation in my head all night like some lovesick teenager. Taran handing me the handkerchief, his understanding smile, the little wink when I’d called him Scales… The way he’d dug his sharp fangs into his bottom lip alone cost me a couple of hours of sleep. And he said he’d see if he could help.

If he didn’t keep his word, I would be crushed. I tried to keep my cool, but a tiny flame of hope burned steadily in my chest.

Chapter Four

Taran

The drive back home to my castle passed in a haze, and I was glad I wasn’t the one steering the sleek grey Helix along the winding roads weaving their way west.

The cafe on Finnegan Square had become my sanctuary over the past few weeks. True, I felt most comfortable in my home, but it was a close second, and it was all because of her.

I’d been alone for most of my life. It sounded pathetic when I put it like that, but it was true. My mother and father had their own endeavours,and while my mother had spent the first thirteen years of my life more or less with me, my father’s only contribution had been to bless me with his absence.

I was their only kid, the one they’d had after they had made it big and figured having a baby might make their lives complete, make their existence feel less empty.

I wasn’t fooling myself. They had never seen me as their ideal son. Weak, anxious, bookish, that’s how I had been in my youth. Eventually, I had gotten strong. I’d shifted my form often to escape a stream of endless tutors, which had helped boost my growth and train my muscles.

When my mother, the stunning Ice Dragoness, Kalon Atax, departed this realm, I cautiously began my journey through life.

I had a name that opened doors to all the clubs and fancy societies, and plenty of money to blow. My parents had made sure of it—whether out of guilt or love, I didn’t know.

I went to auctions and found the most incredible artists and artisans of my time and grew my collection until my hoard looked like a Dragon’s wet dream.

Then, the curse that befell so many of my kin had gotten me, too. I got caught up in my greed and started suspecting everyone of wanting my money, to the point I isolated myself in my castle.

Years I’d spent all alone in my lair, with only Stuart and my treasures for company.

Change had crept in subtly at first. Barely noticeable, until, with time, it had become glaringly obvious. A weird mix of nostalgia and longing had settled in my chest, as if I was missing something I had never had.

How can that even be?I wondered as I strolled through the halls of my ancestral Scottish castle.

It stood proudly on the edge of a deep loch, a fissure carved—by water and time—into the rocks that rose on either side, restored to its former glory, each intricate detail carefully recreated.

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