Page 48 of Deven and the Dragon
“This is a lovely meal,” Aunt Phina said from across the table. She shot Deven a look he couldn’t quite interpret, but that could have ranged fromWhat have you gotten us intotoYou wait until I get you alone, Deven.
“You’re most welcome,” Lady Ana said graciously. “We are charmed to have your company in our castle.”
Fiora rolled his eyes and let out a soft snort — a tactical error, since his mother’s attention immediately snapped to him.
“Do you not appreciate the opportunity to entertain your…lover’s family, Fiora?” she asked sweetly.
“I think the lad’s pointing out that it’s his castle, not yours,” George put in, and Deven nearly spat out a mouthful of radish. “And lover? Really? What the hell have I miss— Ow! Deven, don’t kick me!”
“That was me,” Phina said. “And you deserved it. Lover?” she added. “Deven, you’re going to be explaining yourself! Lord Fiora was your host. I expected you to be on your best behavior and represent the family properly.”
“Fred,”Andrei said, “please bring several more bottles of wine.” Fred nodded and fled, looking relieved to be out of the room for a minute. Deven didn’t blame him. Oh, fuck, but if this was what it was like having an acknowledged, permanent lover, and having to meet each other’s families in circumstances other than being caught climbing out a window…it was still worth it. But fuck.
“I’m not sure what you’d call it by preference in your language,” Lady Ana put in blithely, stabbing her fork into a piece of ham with more force than necessary. “But that seems to be the closest translation to the word I’m thinking of in my own. I can see we have much to discuss.” She shot Deven a glance that promised he wouldn’t enjoy it.
At the other end of the table, Fiora had flushed lavender all the way up to his hairline. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he said, setting down his wine glass with a thump. “We will decide what terms we’re on, and once we’ve decided you’ll be the first to know!” All eyes turned to him, and he swallowed hard. Deven opened his mouth to draw some of their fire — figuratively, anyway — but Fiora beat him to it. “I am so very glad you’re here, Mr. and Mrs. Clifton. And Mother, Father, I’m glad you’re visiting too. But there won’t be any discussions, if you please!”
He looked up and met Deven’s eyes — and that was it. The rest of the room, and everyone else there, faded away. What more did Deven need besides his tiny, fierce, perfect dragon, defending them both against rampaging relatives? He mouthed,I love you, and Fiora smiled so brightly it outshone the sun streaming in through the dining-room windows.
“Just as well,” George said into the silence. He reached for a bowl of tomatoes covered in herbs and crumbled cheese. “Phina once walloped one of the town council over the head with a wooden spoon during a ‘discussion.’ Broke the spoon, and nearly that idiot’s head. It doesn’t do to get her worked up.” Phina’s arm jerked as she elbowed him in the ribs, and George grimaced, shrugged, and took a heaping serving of the tomatoes.
“From what I hear of this town council from Andrei, it was probably much-deserved,” Lord Luca said after a startled pause. “Mrs. Clifton, I admire your enterprise.”
Lady Ana nodded, looking thoughtful. “Indeed. I had never considered a spoon as a weapon. Most inventive. I used to duel in my youth, but I preferred swords. Perhaps I ought to have expanded my repertoire.”
Deven shuddered. Lady Ana, with her claws and teeth, also wielding a sword? Or for that matter, a spoon? It was a thought to keep him awake at night.
“Tell us more about that,” George said, sounding genuinely fascinated. “Ladies don’t duel around these parts. I’m sure Phina would’ve taken it up if it were a possibility. I can imagine she’d excel at it.”
Somewhat to Deven’s surprise, that launched an animated discussion of what clothes ladies might wear while fighting, a laughing speculation on how spoons could be adapted as official dueling weapons, and a number of anecdotes from Lady Ana about her past — and thoroughly vanquished — opponents.
Deven drew a deep sigh of mingled relief at being ignored and terror at what it might mean if his aunt and uncle and Fiora’s parents became friends, and put his head down, devoting most of his attention to his ham. He kept an eye on Fiora all the while. Fiora, to his relief, was also shoveling his food down, making up for all the meals he’d likely missed while he was ill. He’d need more than one, though, with how very worryingly thin he’d become — and it wasn’t like he’d had much to spare before the curse.
Mrs. Pittel surely knew all Fiora’s favorites. Deven made a mental note to go to the kitchen and wheedle her into cooking them all over the next few weeks.
Which presupposed that Deven would be in the castle in a few weeks. His mouth went dry, and he had to chase his food down with a swallow of wine. Would he? That was up to Fiora — and what would his aunt and uncle think, if he essentially abandoned them and left all his work behind in order to lounge about in the lap of luxury and make love to Fiora all day? What, for that matter, would Deven think of himself?
No, he resolved. He would make Fiora a part of his life, not something separate. Fiora wouldn’t mind if he spent some of his time in town helping his aunt and uncle, and they’d be happy for him in their turn. They might be shocked now, but they’d come around. It was impossible not to love Fiora, and Phina would be feeding him and nagging him in no time at all.
With renewed appetite, Deven polished off the last of his plate and put his fork down. The conversation had wound down while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and it looked like everyone else had finished their lunch too.
“We ought to retire to the terrace and have cake served there,” Lord Luca said, setting down his own cutlery. “We can have our…discussion. What do you think of that idea, my love?”
“Splendid,” said Lady Ana, and Phina and George both nodded along — George with more enthusiasm, after the mention of cake.
Deven and Fiora’s eyes met, and Deven saw his own consternation reflected there. How long could this last? Cake, and more wine, and then tea, could takehours. Hours of their various relatives interrogating, haranguing, and attempting to exert their mostly imaginary authority…and Deven and Fiora were outnumbered by a factor of two, more if Andrei sided with the enemy.
Before Deven could think of a way out, Fiora spoke up, proving for the thousandth time that Deven was entirely, definitely right to be passionately in love with him. “I’m afraid I’ll need to go and lie down,” Fiora said, striking precisely the right note of regret. “I’m still not quite myself. Deven, would you come and help me up the stairs? And then perhaps remain in case I need any further assistance.”
“I’m sure Andrei would be —” Lord Luca began.
Oh, fuck no. If Fiora escaped without him, Deven would be toast. He took his life in his hands, standing and blatantly interrupting Lord Luca with, “Of course, at once, you do look tired. Let’s go upstairs.”
Without waiting for a reply, he rounded the table in double-time — giving Lord Luca the widest possible berth — and held out his hand to Fiora. Wide-eyed and with a smile tugging at his full lips, Fiora scrambled out of his chair and took it.
They both muttered something that could have vaguely passed forWe enjoyed lunch so much, have a lovely afternoon, and beat a hasty retreat.
They were bothgiggling like idiot schoolboys as Fiora shut, and firmly locked, the bedroom door behind them. Deven pressed him up against it at once, pushing a muscled thigh between Fiora’s legs and kissing him with the same frantic need Fiora felt rising up in himself. His cock was rising too, happy to meet Deven’s leg and eager to spend more time with the rest of him.
