Home > Treasured(5)

Treasured(5)
Author: S.J. Himes

Tarquin was everything he dreamed about in man, and yet Tarquin wasn’t a man, not a human one at least, despite choosing the form of one. The thought of Tarquin being anything other than the powerfully attractive human standing at his side challenged his imagination.

Tarquin was a storm dragon. Hence his title, The Dragon Lord of Storms. It sounded pretentious until he was actually following the dragon in question, power radiating off his large frame in waves that Alaric could sense without trying. Never had he been so close to someone so powerful, picking up their energies and aura without effort. He wasn’t getting emotions—Tarquin was shielded—but he could feel the power inside the dragon like the buzzing of electricity running through power lines. He almost believed he could smell and taste petrichor and ozone, like the earth outside just after a lightning strike. Every breath he took, he felt a tingle of power rush through him, seeping into his skin, his muscles—just being next to Tarquin made him feel like he could fly, and he wondered what it would be like to touch him. His heart skipped at the image of running his hands all over Tarquin, naked and shimmering with power. He almost swallowed his tongue.

Tarquin was tall, well over six feet, broad shouldered, hair dark and luxurious, catching rich highlights from the recessed lamps overhead as they walked. His skin was tanned, but like a human’s would be from too much sun—a soft doeskin hue that looked healthy and smooth to the touch. He had caught a hint of fangs, upper and lower, similar to a vampire’s but more substantial, and displayed all the time. Vampire teeth dropped from the upper jaw when feeding—Tarquin’s fangs were apparent with a wide enough smile. No need to hide their nature—dragons feared few things in their world. Alaric wanted to reach out and touch, to confirm the dragon was real and actually walking ahead of him wearing a slim-fitting suit that screamed wealth and taste, but thankfully his brain was working enough to curb that impulse. Tarquin wasn’t just captivating—he was devastatingly attractive, and Alaric hoped he hadn’t acted like a fool back in the office when they were introduced. Everything about Tarquin appealed to Alaric, and he fought the urge to move into Tarquin’s personal space. His fingertips tingled with the desire to touch, but common sense and anxiety held him back.

So absorbed was Alaric that he almost walked right into Tarquin as they stopped to wait for the elevator. Blushing, he looked at the floor and moved back a step. A hand caught his elbow, and he blinked in surprise as Tarquin guided him into the elevator as the doors opened smoothly in front of them.

That hand stayed on his elbow as the doors slid shut and the elevator headed for the lobby without a button being pushed. The trip was short, not that he noticed much aside from the hand touching him, his focus zeroed in on the sensation of those strong fingers curling around his flesh. It felt amazing, and he breathed through the excited shivers that echoed through his arm into his torso, warmth pooling in his belly. He peered from under his lashes at the big hand securely holding his elbow, thinking he could almost feel the heat from the dragon’s hand through three layers of clothing. Glancing up, he caught Tarquin gazing down at him, eyes a mix of storm gray and cobalt blue, and he realized with a start that Tarquin’s eyes had vertical slit pupils, the difference hidden within the darkness of his irises, but visible up close.

“Excuse me, my apologies,” Tarquin said, releasing him slowly after a long moment, their gazes locked. Alaric licked his lower lip, a nervous tic, and Tarquin looked down at his lips, following the motion. Alaric blushed hard and looked away, missing Tarquin’s touch immediately.

“It’s okay.” Alaric said softly, trying to keep the foolish sense of loss from his tone as the doors opened and they exited into the lobby.

Tarquin led the way again, Alaric obediently at his heels, and the exterior lobby doors were opened for them when they drew near. A black town car was purring away at the curb, and Alaric grimaced, not looking forward to getting soaked in the fifteen or so feet from the lobby to the car.

There was a soft spike of energy, so fast he thought he imagined it, and as they stepped outside, the rain stopped instantly. He looked to his immediate right, and a few feet away, the rain still fell, and the same a few feet to the left. He looked up, and to his amazement, he could see the rain parting about twenty feet above them, sheeting to either side in a clear path to the car. That big hand returned to his elbow, and he was so shocked that he let Tarquin guide him without protest into the rear of the car, the door held open by the driver. The rain resumed right after the driver regained his seat and the doors shut.

Not a drop of water had touched them.

He sat back in his seat, dazedly reaching for the seatbelt and clicking it in place as he turned to stare at the dragon beside him. Tarquin gave him a short nod, lips twitching, and Alaric felt his blush return in a supernova as the dragon gave him a swift wink before reaching for his own seatbelt. Casual and confident, as if changing the patterns of rain to keep a new acquaintance dry were no big deal and effortless. He had no idea how Tarquin did it—Alaric sensed no spells released like he would with a mage or a witch standing so close.

Dragon Lord of Storms, indeed.

 

 

Tarquin found himself still acting the fledgling when he snuck another glance at Alaric, the human sitting quietly beside him as the car headed for the lawyer’s offices. His blushes were charming, his wide eyes conveyed every emotion he was feeling; the desire and attraction were definitely not one-sided—the scents were easier to parse in the car. Alaric was attracted to him, and Tarquin was torn over what to do about it.

Alaric was his employee and should absolutely be off limits, and while Tarquin wasn’t human, and some human customs didn’t apply, he didn’t believe in starting relationships with those who worked for him. His people could date each other as they pleased, as long as there was no abuse of authority or harassment. Tarquin rarely dated, or even slept with another being, regardless of species, as trust was hard to come by, and too many people were fascinated by his power or tales of dragon hoards full of gold.

Finding someone who fascinated him instead of the other way around was a novel experience, and he found himself floundering. Alaric felt familiar, like he should know the young human, and yet he was confident they’d never met. All he knew for sure was that every primal, scale-y, and possessive drive within his wilder nature wanted to seize, hoard, and cherish the treasure sitting beside him.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

The lawyer’s office was in another massive skyscraper, though not located in the top floors like the one owned by his new boss. The rooms were oppressive, with dark woods, dark paneling, and low, warm lighting that screamed wealth with a looming sensation of doom, but that was probably more his overactive imagination and simmering anxiety than anything he was actually picking up from the room.

Alaric hovered back near the door as the lawyer, Amelia Kestreen, a low-level witch from the vibes he was getting from her, greeted Tarquin with a wide smile and exuberant hello. Tarquin was more reserved, though polite. His boss gestured to Alaric, “I’ve brought my new Truthseeker. This is Alaric Keening.”

“Good morning,” Kestreen said with a far more restrained smile, professionally polite. He figured he wasn’t important enough to warrant fawning. An unkind thought but one he couldn’t help but make when Ms. Kestreen went back to gazing at Tarquin like he hung the moon. “I have the deeds laid out over here.”

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