Page 35 of Randall
Flynn nodded. “Where we can find a room with a locking door, a magicked bed, and no interruptions.”
“Your priorities are noted,” Darvon said, squeezing Flynn before releasing him to stand on his own feet. I noted them as well and wholeheartedly agreed.
I took them to where Baron stood, keeping an eye on Artor. He glanced at us, then took a minute longer to study Flynn.
“You did well, healer. Your skill is admirable.”
“Master Baron, this is our mate, Flynn of the Fisher Clan. A feline shifter.”
Baron breathed deeply through his nose. “A healer. I can smell the herbs, flowers, berries, and roots on his skin. Thank you for keeping Prince Timur alive.”
I was surprised by Baron’s familiarity with Timur. “You know the prince?”
“Yes. When I was consolidating my power in Ashwood, Marius was insistent that I travel to Wintervale Palace. We—the dragons and my clan—have had very few interactions over the last century. The dragons have a fear of vampires—I’m unsure why—but it was good for both of us to know that we had a powerful ally. Now circumstances have brought the dragons into our conflict, so I’m thinking Fate had a hand… Well… obviously.” Baron sighed heavily as he flicked his fingers in Artor’s direction.
He looked at me sharply then. “You’ve never met the prince?”
“No, I’ve never met a dragon-shifter, never even seen one from a distance. But…” —I smiled— “I’m not as old as you.”
His mouth dropped open at my less-than-subtle jab, but no words came forth, and just when he seemed ready to speak…
“Baron! Duke’s gone wolfy again.”
Frantic caws and the rustling of a hundred pairs of wings filled the air. Their cries pierced my ears and my mind, bringing me to my knees.
Darvon cursed as he stood over me, waving his hands. The external sound cut off to a muffled roar with a swirl of airthat became a barrier around me. The raven’s anger, though, hammered my skull from within.
“I’m going to kill him,” came a muted cry that morphed into a low rumbling growl.
“Flynn, no!” followed by a high-pitched yip and more shouting as the ravens finally quieted, landing in the trees, making their annoyance known at a more reasonable level my brain could handle.
“Our mate tackled the wolf of the prince. Baron’s eyes have gone red.” Darvon’s gaze lowered toward me. His lips pressed in a thin line, and he swallowed hard before he tacked on, “We’re all gonna die.”
I stood with Darvon’s aid, feeling off-balance from the avian cacophony, which had thankfully mostly turned from yelling at me to arguing with each other. Locating our mate circling Duke warily, I took in how huge he was. He’d been a slight thing when we pulled him from the water, bigger than a normal cat as shifters usually were, but nowhere near the size he currently was. I called to him, “Flynn.”
He stopped at the sound of my voice. Slowly, he turned his head in my direction, and his lovely golden green eyes widened. The tip of his tail swished.
“Kitten, please.”
Flynn lifted a paw and flexed it, showing off his sharp claws and swiping them at Duke. Then he sneezed at the wolf, turned, and with his tail up, stalked toward me.
“Oh, now there’s a pretty kitty.” I bent over to run my hands through his fur, not having to bend much with how big he’d grown. As I comforted him, he shrank to the size he’d been when we first met, and I had to wonder if he knew he’d even changed.
“You were impressive, Flynn,” Darvon added, taking a knee and petting our mate. “I love how soft your fur is. Once this messis over, I expect we’ll have long nights of you curled on our laps… in either form.”
“I like the sound of that.” I’d planned on asking Flynn to shift, but before I could, he changed into the young, sweet-faced boy I’d already fallen for. Without clothes again. Touching his cheek, I whispered, “Hello, Flynn.”
Heedless of his nakedness, he climbed me like a tree, pressing his whole body to mine. Darvon stepped in front, blocking everyone else’s view, which was mostly the wandering gazes of the soldiers as Connor, Cormac, and Camron were just arriving. Valter and Baron were engrossed in reprimanding a still-wolfy Duke, while Artor was engulfed in the arms of the dragon prince, a man twice his size.
“Damn it,” came a voice from inside the carriage. “We missed all the fun again.”
Chapter 25
Darvon
Darvon threw back his head and laughed. He didn’t care that he probably looked foolish. Their entire situation, from a cursed goddess sending his brother on a mission to bring together five sets of mates, to fighting the demonic presence invading their homeland, was bizarre and unbelievable. And yet, it all was true. How had his life come to this?
He couldn’t even be upset about it because in his arms were the two men Fate had deemed perfect for him. A skilled mage to take charge of leading them, a role he never wanted but had been thrust on him by his mother with Jarrah’s departure. Plus, a playful shifter that appeased his trickster side. Both protective of him, as he would be of them.
