A taloned paw reached out, so very gently, and Alaric grabbed a hold, Tarquin helping him stand. He stared up in wonder at Tarquin, who preened a bit at his appreciation. He attempted to speak, trying twice before finding his voice. “I’m okay. Are you? Oh, my goodness, you are amazing.”
“I am well, thank you, treasure,” Tarquin rumbled, and Alaric blushed. “Only a true treasure would stand before a dragon in their true form and not be frightened.”
He wasn’t afraid. Tarquin was a living, breathing, touchable miracle, one he would appreciate and adore for the rest of his days.
“I love you,” he gasped out.
Magic swirled, and then Tarquin was a man again, suit in order, hair a bit disheveled. Alaric flung himself into his arms, Tarquin catching him, and the kiss they shared was explosive.
They broke apart for a second, Tarquin gazing down at him in wonder, neither of them caring about their audience. “I love you too, my treasure.”
Chapter 6
Alaric sat in Tarquin’s huge chair behind his equally huge desk and watched the mayhem out in the lobby. Tarquin stood tall among the many people vying for his attention, including the near constant stream of emergency personnel and building security officers. The police were still taking statements from everyone who had been in the conference room when the attack happened, and Tarquin only let go of Alaric when it became clear the police weren’t going to be put off from getting answers a second time.
They were questioned separately, and only after Cariste gently disengaged Tarquin and Alaric and promised their boss that Alaric would be safest in Tarquin’s office during the questioning. A pair of detectives had just finished questioning him, and he slumped into the comfortable chair, exhausted and stressed out, anxious now that Tarquin wasn’t holding him. The black leather cushions were soft and smooth, and smelled a bit like Tarquin. Rain and petrichor and ozone. Which made perfect sense, seeing as how Tarquin blasted the mage who tried to kill him with a bolt of lightning.
The mage in question, a man Alaric hadn’t gotten the name of, was dead. Tarquin killed him with that single bolt. Alaric felt ambivalent about it, really, but also relieved because Tarquin was safe, and the man responsible for everything had been stopped. He’d almost been killed by that mage, who had already killed poor Bill at the lawyers’ office, and had tried twice to kill Tarquin. All for greed and trying to pull off a con.
Alaric snorted out a laugh. The dead mage tried to pull a con on the most powerful being in Montreal, and when he realized he was going to get caught, tried to kill Tarquin. All that did was end badly for him.
Cariste slipped past the group clustered around Tarquin in the lobby and walked serenely across the room, as composed as ever. Alaric fidgeted a bit, but Cariste wore a pleasant expression and didn’t even raise a brow at Alaric sitting in Tarquin’s chair, looking like a child playing grown-up.
“How are you feeling?” Cariste asked, their voice pleasant and soothing, as if afraid Alaric would shatter at an unkind word. He felt like he might, so he appreciated the consideration.
“A bit frazzled. Like the past week was a dream and I’m going to wake up and nothing will have happened.”
“All very real, I’m afraid. With the good comes the bad. As a dragon’s treasure, hopefully the good will far outweigh the bad.”
Alaric blushed and dropped his eyes a moment before looking up through his lashes. “You know?”
Cariste smiled, chuckling. “Oh yes. I knew you were a dragon’s treasure the moment you met Master Tarquin. Hard to mistake your reactions to each other as anything other than a dragon and treasure meeting for the first time. It has been many, many generations since I last saw such a thing, but it is hard to forget.”
“Is that why I was hired?” He hadn’t feared that possibility until just that moment and wasn’t sure what he would do if that was the case.
“Absolutely not.” Cariste barely frowned and Alaric felt their displeasure hovering in the air. “You were hired based on your merits and your clairvoyance. And even just being a mortal treasure does not mean a bond with a dragon is a forgone conclusion. A treasure and a dragon must be compatible and receptive to the bond, which narrows down the likelihood that a dragon will ever find their treasure. Many an old legend tells of unhappy mortals stolen by dragons who only saw a treasure to be hoarded, and the pair were never compatible enough to bond. This is merely a happy twist of fate.”
Slightly chastened and a bit mollified, Alaric went back to watching Tarquin. His dark hair was still a bit unkempt from his earlier transformation, but in a dashing manner that gave him an even more dangerous air. Stormy eyes cut across the distance and locked onto Alaric, and a rush of energy cascaded down his spine and sent tingles to his extremities. Breath caught in his throat and his pulse thrummed in his ears for a long moment as they held each other’s gaze.
Tarquin cut through the crowd around him and ignored people as they called after him. Long strides ate up the space between them, and Cariste murmured something to Tarquin as he approached before they left quietly and shut the office door behind them. Alaric hardly noticed, too caught up in Tarquin, his presence, and the energy that swirled off him into the air around them, and if he made even the slightest effort he would be able to see the immense magical power that Tarquin commanded. Never before had his gifts been so acute, ready at a thought and without the need for touch, devoid of the usual strain or exhaustion yapping at his mental heels.
Tarquin stood over him, a tender fondness softening his otherwise stern countenance, and Alaric blushed even harder. His face was hot and his skin tight from his rampant blushes, and the cool, tender touch of the back of Tarquin’s fingers gently brushing over his cheek was a blessed relief. He pressed his face into Tarquin’s palm, sighing happily, tension and anxiety easing out of his frame, melting like hail under a summer sun.
“Trésor,” Tarquin whispered, careful and so gentle that hearing that one word made Alaric’s chest ache.
“What does that mean?” Alaric asked softly, nuzzling into Tarquin’s hand.
“Treasure,” Tarquin replied. Alaric drew in a breath at the realization, eyes pricking with tears but he blinked them away before they could fall. Tarquin started calling him that the first hour they met.
“You knew that soon that I was… a treasure?”
“My treasure,” Tarquin declared. He paused, a teasing edge lighting a small grin on his handsome face. “As I am your dragon.”
“Mine,” Alaric breathed out happily. Tarquin nodded.
“Come, trésor. Let us leave for the day. I would like to spend time alone with you.”
Alaric carefully got to his feet, and Tarquin immediately pulled him under the curve of his shoulder, nuzzling into his hair and breathing in deep. Alaric shivered and hugged Tarquin around his lean waist. “I need to go home this evening and check on my mom, but I’d love to spend the rest of the day with you.”
Tarquin’s smile was sweetly pleased.
The ride to Tarquin’s apartment building was swift and quiet. Alaric cuddled into his shoulder and Tarquin soaked up the comfort of his warm weight along his side, resting his cheek on soft golden-red locks. It was just past noon and Tarquin was looking forward to spending the afternoon with Alaric away from the office.