Page 8 of Worthy Promises
“So you have mentioned plenty this evening. I have no wish to hear it again. Enjoy your meal, I will see you at breakfast,” Oliver replied. Without waiting for protests, Oliverstalked out of the dining room and headed to his bedroom on the second floor. What he needed was a little solitude to clear his head. Their complaints weighed heavily on him, and Oliver hated being a disappointment to anyone, but no one could live up to their unrealistic standards.
They wanted a dashing young man fond of daily parties and dressed in the latest fashion who also earned immeasurable wealth to give them their preferred lifestyle. The one thing Oliver could accomplish was accumulating bigger riches, so that was where he spent his energy. He’d be a force in the art industry, and while he couldn’t fix his family situation, Oliver hoped to find some pocket of happiness in his life. If Fate was willing, someday he wanted to make promises of lasting love to his mate.
Chapter 4
Nine decades later
Draconis Court of Ethelin
After raking a hand through the hair Worth had been cutting himself since his father had locked him in an isolated house, he tugged on a black hoodie. Little had changed in Worth’s life in the past century. Boian rarely offered him new entertainment, but somehow Drogo had convinced King Ethelin to allow the old Duke to drag over an ancient laptop Worth could use. The connection to the outside world hadn’t helped Worth’s confidence.
There were no other pink dragons, and being one-of-a-kind sucked. No matter where Worth ventured, he’d have to face his shame and shift into his horridly colored beast. A rough growl of warning rippled through him.
“My apologies,” Worth said aloud. His relationship with his beast was tenuous, and Worth hated that he wasn’t properly honoring their bond, but how could he find any pride in his dragon? “Someday, we’ll fly in sunlight. That I promise you. Tonight, we’ll escape.”
No one could hear him. Worth’s isolation had etched scars into him and altered his behavior. He’d gone from aconfident drakeling with little fear to a man terrified of running from the house that served as his prison. But Worth had no choice. In recent months, even Drogo had stopped visiting with regularity.
Worth couldn’t abide the silence or wondering what would become of him if Court Ethelin abandoned him fully. How would he eat? It wasn’t as if he had any skills or could venture out to find a job on his father’s land. His attempts at escape numbered too high to count, but Worth had to figure out how to bypass Drogo and find the humans.
Once Worth was in North America, he’d join the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. Hopefully, discovering that a pink dragon existed wouldn’t cause the ruler of the dragons to collapse in horror, and Worth could begin his life anew. His father’s hated enemy, King Aleksander D’Vairedraconis, had once been considered a blight thanks to his bicolor scales, but the Internet stated that the man was now favored by everyone and his influence increased each year. Oddly, despite King D’Vairedraconis’s prestige, Worth could not find a single picture of the prosperous man.
If a cursed King flourished so could Worth. He’d have to dig deep inside himself to find the strength that had allowed him to defy his father throughout his youth. Straightening his shoulders, Worth opened the door to his old house and breathed in the night air. A small taste of freedom wasn’t enough; Worth had to run far and fast from Court Ethelin.
Less than a year after Worth’s first shift, Boian had had another son. Worth had ceased to exist in his mind. From Drogo’s tales, Worth had learned Somerly was a dutiful son, and Boian didn’t have to admonish him daily as he did his eldest. Worth rarely wondered about his brother. It was unlikely they’d ever meet, and if he was thrilled to be the son of Boian’s dreams, Worth doubted they’d have anything in common.
Worth took a step out of his prison and refuge and decided his best bet was to stick behind trees. There was an annual party that night being hosted by King Boian, so fewer Dukes were on patrol. It was now or never for Worth, and he tried to ignore the heavy thud of his accelerated heartbeat as he trudged across the land. His hood was pulled so far forward, Worth had no peripheral vision, which was why he didn’t hear the car until it was too late.
The air whooshed from Worth’s lungs as the slow-moving vehicle hit his legs and his body slammed to the ground. Squeezing his eyes shut, Worth swallowed his tears. He was caught again. How could he have been so foolish? Car doors creaked open, and Worth wondered which Duke would have the pleasure of hauling him back to the house.
“Fuck!” someone yelled.
“Do you think we killed him?” asked another voice, this one far less assured than the first.
“I’m not dead,” Worth retorted, pissed at himself for failing yet again. “Bloody hell, do you always drive so recklessly? How did younotsee a dragon walking across the road?”
“It’s dark, thank you very much. And you’re in all black,” the first man retorted. Worth opened his eyes and shoved the outstretched hand away from his face. He could drag his own battered body from the ground. The men were dragons like Worth. That was no surprise. Court Ethelin had no allies, and King Boian hated anything not exactly like him.
“Are you hurt?” the second man asked. Strangely, he was short—barely a handful of inches above five feet—but Worth appreciated his kindness. Hope stirred. These men weren’t Dukes. Perhaps Worth had been too hasty in assuming his latest escape attempt was thwarted.
Be brave, Worth told himself.
“I’ve just been hit with a car,” Worth said. “Yes, I’m hurt. Likely only bruises and scrapes though.” Thankfully, Worth’s adrenaline was bubbling through him, and he barely felt any of the pain from his unceremonious fall to the ground.
“I wasn’t driving that fast,” the taller one countered. The defensiveness in his voice amused Worth, and he admitted to himself it was foolish to be so blind to the world around him that he hadn’t noticed a car creeping toward him. Worth was as much at fault as the driver of the car—not that he’d mention that aloud.
“Good thing for me, since you don’t have sense enough to look for obstacles in your path,” Worth said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t decide to run across the road in front of oncoming vehicles,” the man retorted.
“Let’s not fight,” the shorter one insisted. “Can we give you a lift somewhere? Back to your home so you can recuperate from your injuries perhaps?”
“Somerly, we don’t have time to take this guy home,” the taller of the dragons retorted.
Worth held in a chuckle. The dutiful brother he’d doubted he’d ever meet was standing before him. If Somerly was the paragon Drogo bragged about, what was he doing creeping around in the dark while his father held a large party? “Prince Somerly Ethelindraconis is it then?”
“Don’t you get any ideas. His father isn’t going to pay you a dime,” his brother’s companion insisted.
Since Worth often had to stretch even his meager groceries when Boian lacked the money to send Drogo to the store, he already knew nothing had changed in a century. Boian remained terrible with economics, and his desire to spend far outweighed his ability to rake in money. “His father likely doesn’t have any money to give. He’s forever running out of the stuff.”
