Page 55 of Kiss of Frost

Mine.

Mine.

Callum moved to my side. He reached up and stroked Graeme’s beard. As Graeme trembled and then leaned into Callum’s palm, I realized that odd gleam in Callum’s eyes hadn’t been masculine aggression. All his “my mate’s” had served a purpose. He hadn’t been challenging Graeme. He’d been doing some affirming of his own, helping Graeme to see the truth.

“It beats for you,” Graeme rasped, covering my fingers with his. He drew a ragged breath, his big chest swelling against my palm. “Both of you.”

“Aye,” Callum said gently, petting Graeme’s beard like someone might soothe a wild animal they’d tamed. “I thought that might happen.”

Graeme folded his fingers around mine. “I’m sorry about the roof. But you…” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, tears turned them as blue as the snowladen sky above Gelhella. More tears soaked his voice as his gaze took in me and Callum. “I have fought this mate bond. I’ve made it difficult for us. If you let me, I’d like to show you why.”

Chapter Eighteen

CALLUM

Graeme led Georgie and me to a study so packed with books it was hard to see the floor.

Under other circumstances, I might have teased him about being as big of a nerd as Georgie. But the anguish in his eyes curbed my tongue. As we picked our way around the tottering piles of scrolls and books, the same strange, barely-there whispers I’d heard around Georgie in the caldarium rose in the air. The hair on my nape lifted, and I wanted nothing more than to shift to shadow form and streak back to my chamber. Maybe leave Gelhella entirely and find a nice pub in Edinburgh with a TV and pizza slices as big as my head.

Georgie, on the other hand, looked like she’d stepped into an amusement park and Christmas and her birthday all at once. She practically vibrated with interest as she examined the shelves lined with bottles and bits of twig bundled with twine. A creepy crystal skull grinned from one sagging shelf. Another shelf held a pile of red bones that glistened like blood in the sunlight that streamed through a bank of windows glazed with thick, wavy glass.

Georgie knelt abruptly and ran a hand over the floorboards. She rubbed her fingertips together, then rose and looked at Graeme. “Salt. You’ve done spellwork in here.”

“Aye,” Graeme said. He’d stayed near the door, as if he was reluctant to enter. “This is where I…searched.”

Georgie’s eyes grew soft and sad, the purple color like a bruise. “What were you looking for?”

Graeme pressed his lips together. Then he turned his head, clearly fighting a powerful emotion. His throat worked, and a battle played out over his face as he stared sightlessly at the windows. When his reply came, it was more breath than sound. “Him. For more than a thousand years, I searched for…him.”

Silence settled over the study like a weight. Georgie looked at me, helplessness in her gaze. I knew I returned the expression as I stared back at her. At last, she navigated around the stacks and columns, her black hair shining in the sunlight as she went to Graeme. She was a tall woman, but she was tiny in front of him, her head fully a foot lower than his. But that didn’t stop her from reaching up and cupping his jaw.

“Tell us about him,” she said, “but not here.” She stroked her thumb over his cheekbone. “Is there another place we can talk?”

Graeme’s eyes flickered with something like gratitude before he nodded. Without a word, he turned and led us from the study. He kept Georgie’s hand tucked into his elbow as we moved through the castle, descending the stairs and walking down torchlit corridors. We passed the Great Hall and entered a section of the fortress I hadn’t seen when I did my early morning scavenging. The flagstones were large and polished to a fine sheen. Intricate carvings adorned the woodwork. Even the sconces on the walls were nicer, the iron worked into designs like flowers and animals.

“They’re the personal badges of the dragons who served in the Brotherhood,” Graeme said when he saw me looking. The hint of a smile touched his mouth. “Far older than coats of arms and tartan.”

Of course. The Brotherhood was older than Scotland itself, possibly older than the standing stones various ancient peoples had left scattered about the Highlands. I tried to wrap my head around a thousand years of living—of watching times change and civilizations rise and fall. But it was like trying to count grains of sand on a beach. Impossible to measure or truly comprehend.

At last, Graeme stopped before a pair of carved doors similar to the ones outside the Great Hall. But these were bolted with a thick metal bar. Just as I wondered where he kept the key, he pressed his hand to the metal, and the bar faded from sight.

Georgie sucked in a breath. She turned curious eyes to Graeme, who offered another smile—this one sweeter and broader than the one he’d given me. “I’ll tell you how it works later,” he promised. When she beamed back at him, I forgot all about the punch he’d given me in the caldarium. The ice javelin and the blows from his wings and tail disappeared too. A sigh rose in my chest as I resigned myself to being in love and easily manipulated for the rest of my days. If I was this easy over a couple of smiles, there was no hope for me.

Not such a hardship, though. The perks more than made up for it.

Graeme pushed the doors open, and my thoughts blanked as I stared at a room full of—

“Treasure,” Georgie breathed, gazing over the glittering array of gold, jewels, and furniture. The space was massive, with vaulted ceilings and walls lined with shelves and cabinets glittering with priceless objects. On the floor, a small mountain of sapphires twinkled next to a throne carved from jade. Pearls and rubies completed the miniature mountain range. Tapestries of every size and shape decorated the walls. Brilliantly patterned rugs covered the floors. Everywhere I looked, more wealth and beauty greeted me. Even the air smelled rich, like flowers growing in a museum.

I looked at Graeme. “What is this place?” Our kind was drawn to shiny, precious things. More than one dragon housed a hoard under his castle. But I’d never seen or heard of anything like this.

“Gifts from travelers seeking the Oracle.” He stared at the display like he was almost surprised to see it. And maybe that wasn’t too far off. He’d spent centuries without emotions. He confirmed as much a second later when he said, “I never had any use for these things, so I brought them here.” An apologetic look moved through his eyes. “I took knowledge, though. Books and magic. Anything I thought might help me with my search.”

Georgie took his hand. “Tell us about it.”

He guided us to the back of the room, where chairs and sofas were grouped around an empty hearth with a beautifully carved mantel. A plush, white fur rug spread over the floor. When Georgie and I were settled in two of the chairs, Graeme lit a fire with a bit of kindling and a flick of his wrist. Then he sat on a silk-covered sofa in front of us and began to speak.

“My mate’s name was Hamish Cameron. I met him when I was a little over two hundred years old. I…lost him shortly after my four hundredth year. We were happy. I loved him.” He shook his head a little. “No, it was more than that. I was so deeply in love with him that it hurt me sometimes. Like walking into the sun after spending a few hours indoors. That first step into the light is so bright and warm, you’re always a little surprised when it hits you. That’s how I loved Hamish.”

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