Page 7 of D'Vaire or Nothing
“I don’t know, but that’d be nice. Maybe they’ll have blue velvet for Dra’Kaedan. He deserves it for keeping Brogan from inviting himself on our date. I fully expected to find him at the table with us.”
“He was losing his job or accepting gracefully that he wasn’t eating with us tonight,” Aleksander said. “I wanted a date with you. Not him.”
Happiness filled Rafe’s black scaly eyes. “Keep sweet-talking me like that and I’ll invite you back to my hotel room tonight.”
“Oh, you already have an open invitation to join me.”
“The wolves are sleeping in the living room, right?”
“I have plans for you, so yes.”
Rafe shifted on the smooth fabric of the booth, and his smile was wicked. “I was hoping you did.”
“We have eternity, Rafe, and that still doesn’t seem like long enough to spend with you.”
“I know what you mean. Someday I’ll get used to being with you. Or perhaps I won’t. Maybe I’ll spend forever marveling that Fate brought me to you. Either way, as long as I’m at your side, I have no complaints.”
Aleksander swallowed to keep his happy tears from falling and cupped Rafe’s nape to bring their mouths together. Their date was a glorious way to start a weekend, and while it was selfish, Aleksander hoped most of it would be spent privately in bed with the man he adored.
Chapter 3
“Isn’t this fancy?” Queen Helen Beradraconis asked. Reverent Knight Conley Gylde-Kempe grinned as the mother he’d gained in his late teens raised her hand and waved to the High Kings. They were dining in a booth fancy enough to boast a giant doggy bed for their unique wolves.
“Mom, stop waving at people and sit so our host can give us the menus,” insisted Conley’s other half, Drystan, as he slid onto the curved booth bench after Conley.
With a purse of her lips, Helen tucked her skirt under her and joined them in the booth. She scooted close enough that she bumped elbows with Conley.
“You don’t need to order me around, Drystan,” Helen warned. “No one in here minds if I fuss over our family. Aleksander and Rafe rarely leave their estate; I want to let them know I’m here if they need anything without intruding on their date.”
Once Helen’s mate, King Aeron Beradraconis, was seated, the host gave them their menus. Conley nearly chuckled at the way Drystan couldn’t disguise his smile as he ducked his head and quietly apologized to their mother.
“Pretty fancy place for a King,” Aeron remarked as he gave his attention to the black-and-silver décor.
“I love that they chose the most traditional color for dragon Kings and added the silver of their coronets to decorate it,” Conley said.
“Not every King is black,” Helen responded. “You weren’t.”
It was rare for Conley to think about the centuries he spent as a dragon King, despite it being an idyllic part of his former life. But he couldn’t forget the magnificent golden scales he’d been given on the day he shifted. Or what a fool he’d been to think the color would keep him from being a Duke and away from Drystan’s side.
Beneath the table, Conley’s hand was taken by Drystan, and he leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“I still remember how pissed I was that Fate made us Kings,” Drystan said wryly. “The last thing I wanted was to leave our home. But Court Besant was a great place.”
“And not so far away that we couldn’t visit,” Helen commented.
“You didn’t visit often enough,” Conley accused.
“The last thing you needed was a neighboring King underfoot,” Aeron replied, his dark eyes growing serious. “You were young and new to rule. If I was there constantly, people might wonder if you were the ones making the decisions or if you lacked the strength to lead. The two of you needed to figure out how to handle your court. Which you did admirably.”
“Okay, I get that, but Con and I missed you,” Drystan said.
Helen shook her head. “Drystan, look at your menu and decide what you want to eat. We aren’t going to spend tonight with you pouting about events that were literally a lifetime and centuries ago.”
“Yeah, Drys, figure out what you want to eat and stop being a baby,” Conley teased the man he’d loved since he was nineteen.
Predictably, Drystan rolled his black eyes with their twisted ring of silver around the iris and let go of Conley so he could grab his menu to leaf through it.
“Everything looks so delicious,” Helen murmured.
