Chapter 56 Budding competition
THE DRAGON
It was not love.
But Hale’s teasing assumption was not very far off from my true feelings. I think.
Every time I looked in her silver eyes, something indescribable welled in my chest.
And there was a hot, nameless lump in my throat, whenever my eyes danced over that ivory skin, clear as milk, or the auburn hair, full and wavy, which gleamed like actual flames in sunlight.
Worse, right now, the sight of her staring up at me, letting her excitement cut through her always-schooled rich-girl demeanor, made it awfully difficult to keep my hands off her.
I wanted to hug her to myself and spend the whole day with her. Tell her all about long forgotten societal norms that she seemed interested in.
Explain how the world worked before the first Grunder was probably born.
Describe how she would have fit in old France.
And this realization frightened me.
Was Hale right after all?
If Finn and I appeared to be growing further apart since finding out his real identity, and now I felt...
Was I really losing my bond with Nympahea?
“Really?” Her voice broke into my thoughts, and our eyes met.
My doll. My porcelain doll.
She was practically struggling to keep still. And I know if it were any other woman, she would have been hopping on her feet at this point.
I could see the gold mist of anticipation bubbling in her belly. Swelling around her chest.
“Yes, pet,” I responded finally, reaching for Hale, who sat on the bed with that perpetual amused look. “A wedding gift. You should have received one earlier. But the last few days have been…”
“Crazy?” Hale offered, flashing me that knight's smile.
My fingers sunk into his hair, running across the silver-colored silk, up, down, and up again. It was a relief that our fight hadn't gotten any worse last night.
Finn’s and her disappearance was enough to pull us back together in united outrage.
“Come.” I turned for the door, just as Hale moved his arm around her, whispering something in her ear that made her lip curl up a little. A contained smile.
The ache in my heart was abrupt.
“When was this house built?” She asked softly as we approached the staircase.
There was a beat of silence where I could not speak. “1924. After Berlin.” Hale spoke for me.
“Berlin?”
The ache calcified into agony. A bitter-sweet thing, sweet because it was proof that I still ached for my queen, despite my new feelings.
Reminding me of the time I had one other person who was just like me.
“Yes doll. Berlin was the last time we saw Nymphaea.” I gripped the banisters, feeling the glassy finish of the ebony, cool to touch despite my heat.
“Oh.” Came that gentle voice from behind as I walked ahead of them.
“It finally stopped raining,” Hale chimed in, obviously to fill the silence. And I could have laughed.
It appeared it was now my turn to live through what he had to. What he tried to explain last night.
The third wheel who wasn't exactly a third wheel. It did not matter that I sometimes shared Nymphaea with him, or that we would always have his fairy together.
We knew who belonged to whom. Two dragons then, two werewolves now.
And if that wasn't enough, they just had to be bloody mates. Destined mates, they called it.
And on top of all that was the class.
They moved and spoke with the kind of grace that cannot be learned.
You just had to be born into it. A lord and his lady.
Like her, Hale came from a lineage of wealthy werewolves. Back when rank and power were counted in acres and estates.
Born a prince from a long line of kings, married a princess from a long line of queens, who birthed little princes and princesses.
Even that awful tragedy that would have turned most men to barbarians did not break this side of him. He managed to hold that elegance, like a quiet light inside him.
“We're here,” he announced cheerfully now as we branched off the winding staircase four floors above.
I pushed the recently installed Japanese sliding doors open. Lys inhaled sharply.
Without a backward glance, I slipped off my shoes and walked into the sun-washed room with wall-to-wall mirrors.
On one side of the wall was a floor-to-ceiling window which looked out to the garden, lake, and the woods that stretched farther and farther.
Finn was by the lake, sitting under a tree and hugging his knees, and even from here I could feel his sadness.
My chest was on fire now.
“We figured you'd need a private rehearsal studio, fairy,” Hale said, and I turned in time to catch her stunned look.
My brows furrowed. Shouldn’t a woman of her status be more used to lavish gifts?
“Thank you.” A stunned whisper as her eyes traveled around. “These are heated.”
She looked down at her feet and I followed her gaze to the glossy sprung floors even though I had chosen them, and stood here the evening before until the Ashbounds finished fixing the heating system under the boards.
“What’s the point of an at-home studio if it cannot be as comfortable as the ones at your academy?”
I crossed my hands behind my back and walked up to her.
She tilted her head back, eyes staring up at me with that awe they had carried since the first day we met.
“Some rooms...” She swallowed. My dick pulsed at the sight of her throat moving. “Not all the studios at the academy have heated floors.”
Hale caressed her elbow as she spoke, a soothing motion I doubted he was even aware of.
“We'll fix that then.” I turned, heading for a switch on the east side, “At night you can let in air and direct moonlight,” I clicked the switch and the glass ceilings parted to let in bright sunlight.”
“Wow,” her jaw dropped like an actual kid, staring up at the sky. I was chuckling before I could stop myself.
Now, I congratulate myself and Hale for sparing no expense, for choosing this room.
This was one of the few rooms that jutted out of the building so you had a clear view of the sky even though there were many other floors above it.
“You look as pleased as a king.” Hale walked towards me, just as she turned for the barre lining one side of the room.
“Dragon arrogance. Cannot help it.” I smiled as he took my hand in his, and squeezed.
“She likes it.” he said.
We turned to watch her place both hands on the barre, and then move to stand on her tippy-toes, barely leaning against it.
“She does.” I stared at her perfect balance and form. No wonder she was the principal at her company.
“Hale,” she called in that rich-girl voice now, without a backward glance.
Again, that ache in my chest. Fiery this time.
She never called me my name like that. No, she never even called me anything.
“This wood is breathing.” she said in alarm,