Page 30 of Randall
Valter threw back his head, a wide smile on his face. He called to Duke, “Get out of the water, you silly beast.” The prince’s screech when Duke bounded out of the water and shook himself dry all over Valter was hysterical. His mate thought so, too. Baron was doubled over, hands braced on his knees, laughing hard at Valter’s misfortune.
Artor let out a weary sigh as he walked by, carrying a folded blanket and a stack of clothes on his way toward Valter and a wet, wolfy Duke. When I snickered, he glanced my way and rolled his eyes. I wished I’d known Artor better. It felt like a missed opportunity, but I understood the queen’s reluctance to let me know about him.
As Valter, Duke, Baron, and Artor cavorted by the riverside, I had the thought that Valter’s mates—and friends—were as crazy as he was. I supposed I should count myself included, because I did think of us as friends even if he was young enough to be my son.
Darvon nudged me when I shuddered. “What’s wrong?” Slipping an arm around his waist, I pulled him closer and leaned to whisper in his ear my thoughts on the young prince. Hesnorted. “Well, now you have a mate just as young and another nearly ten times your age.”
That snapped me to my senses. He was right. Darvon had mentioned he was over three hundred years old, and Flynn said he had a mere twenty full turns of the sun. I was in the middle… sort of.
It was odd because I looked older than both of them. As a mage, I aged more slowly than a typical human. Like most magickal beings, we matured along similar lines as our human counterparts until we reached the age of twenty, at which point, our power kicked in and slowed our bodies’ decline toward old age. With the Fae’s silvery hair and pale features, I doubted I could tell the difference between those who were over several centuries and who were merely my own age of thirty-five. Only in speaking with them and hearing their breadth of knowledge would I have any clue.
A mage’s gifts, used daily, regenerated our bodies. The same was true for the shifters, but not to the same degree. They tended toward two or three hundred, mages closer to five, before our bodies gave out. I slid a long look at my mate because he changed everything I’d thought my life would be. Once we claimed each other, once I bore whatever mark he chose to give me and he wore mine, then our lives would be interwoven. Death would not take Flynn or me unless Darvon passed, and then only after we had exceeded our normal lifespan.
Or so I’d read. Whether it was true or not, I wanted to mark my mates before we faced whatever evil had invaded Obrusa. I needed to ensure they knew their place in my heart before we went further on this scary adventure.
Darvon glanced at me, then caught and held my gaze. His smile grew. “Mate,” he whispered, raising a hand and tapping two fingers over his heart.
Needing his kiss, I cupped his neck as I leaned down to take his mouth. He opened for me, our tongues sliding together, breathing in the other’s exhaled breath. Darvon shifted his stance, edging closer until he pressed his groin to mine. I could feel his lengthened shaft against my hardened cock. That fast, he had me spinning, spiraling with want.
I shoved my fingers into his hair, holding him still as I devoured all he gave. So much desire… I was awash in his pheromones, his lust rolling off him. I tried to ignore the rough cough intruding on my senses, but when they overrode his quiet moans, I had to pull away.
“Sorry, Randall,” Valter said, hovering nearby, but out of arm’s reach.
I wanted to growl at him to go away, but the glare from Baron, standing at Valter’s shoulder, had me stifling the sound. Instead, I cursed, to which Valter laughed.
“Shut up,” I said lightly and with a grin, so his mates would know I meant no disrespect. It was a tease between friends, a place that took too long for us to find.
His quick smile and the tilt of his head toward Baron as he listened to whatever his mate murmured made me happy in an altogether different way. Watching Valter growing up within the castle walls, seeing how miserable his siblings made his life, how dejected he looked after his father called him out on his less-than-athletic prowess, had touched my heart, but Valter had found a way to survive. He befriended Samantha in the kitchens, soaking up her maternal ovations; he spent hours in the library with learned scholars, turned away the sword and picked up the rapier and bow, and though weak and unskilled, he practiced his limited magick with me. I lamented that he could have been better if he had practiced more.
With his mating, I could sense an increase and stabilization of the magick within him. Gods, I wished we had more time totrain, but Jarrah’s warning and the uptick in attacks had me sure we didn’t have much time to prepare. Still, it would do Valter well to learn a few attack and defensive spells.
Duke, in human shape and dressed, sauntered over to stand on Valter’s other side. He paused a moment before continuing over to me, his nose lifted as he inhaled. “Why do you smell like… cat?” He ground out the last word, scrunching his nose.
“Best get used to it, wolf,” Darvon quipped. “That cat is our mate.”
If I were the cat, I would have preened as Darvon slid an arm around my waist, unsubtly staking his claim on me. I stuck my nose into his hair, hiding my wide grin in the face of Duke’s horror.
“No,” he whimpered.
“Yes,” Darvon repeated with glee.
Duke sighed, and then, with his shoulders slumping, he shuffled back to Baron and knocked his forehead into the vampire’s chest. “Bad enough we have that furball along, but another one… It’s a good thing Jarrah isn’t here because I’m not feeling very charitable toward him at the moment.”
Baron let out a deep, rumbling laugh as he cupped the back of Duke’s head. Meanwhile, Valter patted Duke’s back and then squeezed his butt. Duke jolted but otherwise let his mates do what they wanted as he soaked up their attention. “You best be nice to Kat. I love her even if she did stow away in the saddlebag.”
Kat was here?
“Valter, your cat is a menace,” Artor stated plainly, finally joining the conversation, his gaze returning from where he’d been staring along the road Flynn had taken. He jerked his chin in my direction next. “So where is this cat of yours?”
“With the dragon,” I answered, and the snarled“Mine”that ripped from Artor’s throat proved I’d been right.
Chapter 22
Darvon
“Well, now…” Darvon said. “Looks like we were right.”
Randall scoffed. “Of course we were.”
