Page 31 of Worthy Promises
“Then I’d love to share a drink with you.”
Returning Oliver’s smile, Worth couldn’t imagine a better meeting. He quietly thanked Fate for the extraordinarily attractive man in front of him. “I’ve already stood in line once to get a glass of champagne. Be a gentleman and go get two for us.”
“You’re lucky I am a gentleman. Go find a spot in the garden for us to talk. Maybe the benches near the pink roses.”
Worth gave him a courtly bow. “As you wish, Owliver.”
As Worth walked away from Oliver, the shock of meeting him finally settled in. After two centuries alone, Worth had hisgift from Fate. The attraction was lovely, and Worth wouldn’t hesitate to explore it, but he wanted so much more than sex.
What Worth desired was a connection of the heart and a best friend he could trust. It was too soon to tell if Oliver was the answer to his dreams or if he’d end up heartbroken. His plan was to spend the rest of the evening learning what he could about Oliver, then he’d rush home to tell his wonderful family about his extraordinary night.
Chapter 11
Reading an online article complete with a rare photo of the D’Vaire royals was how Oliver had first seen Duke Argent Worthington D’Vairedraconis. As a man who appreciated art, Oliver had certainly noticed the bold, striking planes of his incomparable face.
His sleek black hair shone even in the low lights of the garden and nearly brushed the shoulders of his silk tuxedo. The blue eyes with their layer of dragon scales rested on Oliver’s face, and he loved that they were not only gorgeous but bright with warmth. It was a sparkling and wonderful contrast to his sexy grin. The owl that Oliver shared his soul with was ready to stake his claim on the dragon. But Oliver was still in shock.
How could this stunning man be the other half of his soul? The salmon pink of the beast rising from Worth’s crown was a perfect match for Oliver’s striped tie. But Oliver’s beleaguered brain couldn’t imagine they had much else in common. Despite Worth’s insistence of nonchalance at Oliver’s dismissal of his title, it’d been rude, and he was ashamed of himself. He’d been so overwhelmed; he’d spoken without considering his words first.
Oliver had no faith in royalty, and his belief in Fate had wavered since his youth. The ruler of the snowy owls was anasshole and resented Oliver for his success. It wasn’t uncommon for the man or one of his underlings to call every week to complain about something in the news concerning Oliver’s galleries, or to share some other ridiculous thought that had popped into the Count’s head. Oliver gave plenty back to his people, but it was never enough for Count Scandiacus.
If the rumors swirling among the snowy owls could be counted on, the man was much like Oliver’s deceased parents. Dollars slipped through his hands swiftly, and yet he insisted on a pampered life with little responsibility. With such an example, it was no wonder Oliver’s opinion of titles was poor, but he was already regretting spouting it off to Worthington within minutes of meeting the Duke Argent.
As requested, Oliver had procured two glasses of champagne and had returned to hand one flute to Worthington. Several minutes had passed after Worthington thanked him, but neither man spoke. The initial rush of finding his mate had allowed Oliver’s ardor to cool so his dick was no longer straining in his boxers, which pleased him.
Although Worthington was beautiful and Oliver was wildly attracted to him, he couldn't think coherently with so little blood flowing to his head. While the man was struggling to find his tongue, Oliver’s owl was hooting with unequivocal joy that they’d found their mate. Since dragons lacked a sense of smell, Worthington had no sharply unique scent to set him apart, but that hardly diminished Oliver’s interest.
“Well, Owliver, are you feeling as awkward as I?” Worthington asked, grinning over his glass before taking a large swallow of his drink.
In his youth, Oliver had hated the awful boys teasing him about the unfortunate name his parents had given their owl-shifting son, but he was feeling none of that embarrassment or anger now. Something about the way Worthington saidOwlivahin his crisp English accent curled Oliver’s toes in his wingtips, and he doubted he’d ever tire of the nickname.
“Yes, we were fine until I went to get us drinks.”
“What do you think that means?”
Since Oliver was feeling impetuous for the first time in his life, he went with his gut and met Worthington’s beautiful blue eyes. “I think it means being apart isn’t good for us.”
Worthington smiled in a way that nearly had Oliver bending down on one knee to pledge his undying devotion to the man. Oliver wasn’t sure what was going on. He was practical, boring, and not given to fantastical thinking. They had known each other for minutes, and Worthington was already unraveling a lifetime of levelheadedness.
“I agree,” Worthington replied, still grinning. Oliver swore his heartbeat grew sluggish with every passing second as his imagination suddenly bombarded him with images of their bodies intertwined. His fingers itched to peel the expensive suit off Worthington’s lanky frame, and he wanted to explore with his hands and mouth for at least a century or two.
“I need your phone number.”
“Foolish man, did you think I’d allow you to leave tonight without giving it to you?”
Oliver was enchanted by Worthington’s sassy banter, and his lips curved. “I’m sorry, I rarely socialize outside of business, and I can’t seem to help being direct.”
“Good for you I prefer a man without prevarication.”
“Then I feel like I should tell you I’ve seen you before in pictures.”
Worthington chuckled. “I’m sure you found me absurdly handsome.”
“I did.”
“While it’s little more than genetics bringing a person good fortune, I must say I find no fault with your handsome face either.”
Both man and owl preened at Worthington’s compliment. “I hope I didn’t insult you by dismissing your title.”
