Page 19 of D'Vaire or Nothing
Gryphon winked at Shane and led him through the iron railings to the dance floor, which already had a few couples—including the Emperors and the Imperial Duke with his mate, the Ducsarcelle—already swaying to the beat. Within moments, Shane was in Gryphon’s arms, and their feet were moving in sync. It barely took them any effort to move as a unit. They were far too close as a couple and used to being partners for any hint of awkwardness.
“I hope I don’t step on your pants and ruin them,” Gryphon said, glancing worriedly down at the palazzo pants Shane had paired with a bowed top.
“It’ll be fine; they’re long but not brushing the floor. My shoes are too high for that.”
“Nice thing about being at the studio is that the clothes you design for us to practice in never get in the way of anything.”
“And they’re way nicer than the ancient rags I wore when I returned to Vegas.”
“You looked like shit.”
Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Tell me how you really feel, baby.”
“I like your clothes now. Your closet—which is disgustingly full like my belly—is an array of gorgeous flowing fabrics that remind me of the first time I met you. They make a statement. That’s my Shane. Vibrant. Bold. And so fucking gorgeous.”
Touched, Shane kissed Gryphon tenderly. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”
“You put up with far worse from me. But none of that matters now. We’re nailing this matebond stuff.”
“I have a new pair of griffin socks I plan to be wearing later while you nail me.”
“Don’t make me hard on this dance floor.”
“You started it. You were nice to me.”
“If I spend the rest of the night insulting you, will you stop flirting with me?”
Amused by Gryphon’s absurdity, Shane chuckled. “Nope. You’ll feel like shit if I keep being sweet and sexy. Pretty sure you’ll want to make up all that nastiness to me in bed.”
“Shane Tadhg Ó Dubhghaile, if you want to stay on this dance floor with me, I suggest you stop talking about the way I’m going to fuck you. Or we’ll forget about the food that needs to settle in our stomachs—and your impossibly high shoes—and run upstairs.”
“Why are you so damn perfect for me?”
“Easy, Fate made me for you.”
Shane slid his hand upward to toy with the dark curls brushing the top of Gryphon’s collar as he brushed their lips together. “Remind me to thank Fate a thousand times later.”
“You can do that while you’re catching your breath after I’ve made such thorough love to you that you’ll briefly wonder if you’ll survive it.”
Laughing, Shane kissed Gryphon again and shuffled closer to him to enjoy the scent of pine that clung to him as they moved to the beat. His life was damn good and centered solely on the man who completed him in every way.
Chapter 7
“Rainbow, are you finished already?” asked High Arcanist-mate Greyson D’Vairedraconis.
With a nod for his other half, High Arcanist Morgen the Moonbow pushed his plate toward the broad-shouldered dragon shifter sitting across from him in the King of Clubs. Morgan’s meal had been delicious, but the serving size was too large for the wizard.
“Do you want some?” Greyson asked Crescent. The cute dragon familiar Morgen had summoned years ago offered Greyson a grumbly sound, so the shifter slid a chunk of salmon onto Crescent’s plate. Thankfully, Crescent was a dainty eater, so they could take him whenever they dined out.
The ability to share a meal publicly with a wizard familiar was an anomaly. The other three little dragons in the D’Vaire household ate as if it were an Olympic sport to cover themselves in as much of their meal as possible. As a result, there were two tiny sinks built into their island at home so they could be hosed down after eating, and their High Arcanists rarely took the pests out to restaurants.
Tonight was no different, and it had amused Morgen to watch the little dragons react. It ranged from stalwart acceptance to a dramatic dive onto a couch to feign death.Although Morgen hadn’t wanted to encourage their antics, he hadn’t been able to stifle his laughter as he left the hotel suite with Greyson.
“Isn’t this place beautiful?” Greyson asked as he tucked into his meal again.
Morgen’s pastel rainbow gaze drifted from the booths against the wall to the large king of clubs above the semi-open kitchen.
“Yes, dragons are elegant.”
