Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 28

"Really?" I retort. "That sounds a little complicated."

He sighs and runs his hands through his long hair. "I shouldn't have said it like that," he says. "What I mean is... You don't always need to understand a thing to just... let it be."

I laugh humorlessly and turn back towards the door. "Sorry, Ambrose. Overthinking things is my specialty."

"And a dragon's treasure is his heart, little wolf," he says softly, the odd statement making me pause. "If a piece of it goes missing, he'll know. He'll feel it, just as I felt it this afternoon. Something of mine disappeared from this world, as surely as if it had never been. I felt that absence as an ache at the heart of me. Thankfully, it lasted but a moment, and whatever had gone missing soon returned. So let me ask you again, Noah Hunter: where've you been?"

I look at him, my mind turning over his words and trying in vain to make sense of them. A wolf will feel the loss of a mate like that, but only once the mate-bond is formed, and only once they have knowledge of the loss. Not a potential mate, and not just... instantly.

"Faerie," I say slowly. "I was in Faerie, with Julian. He opened a Passage, and I followed him through."

"Faerie?" he repeats, and brushes a hand over his mouth. "Well, that's it then. Fuck." He laughs, but the sound has an odd edge to it.

"What?"

"I guess a part of me was hoping it might have been... something else, after all, but this proves it."

"What?" I say again.

He closes the distance between us, eyes dark and a line between his brows. "It means that you're mine now, little wolf," he says. "whether you know it or not. You're my treasure, my heart, maybe even..." He pauses, and meets my eyes, and his own hold a strange look. "Maybe even the thing most dear to me," he finishes.

I stare back at him, finding my feelings even more conflicted than before.

Part of me—maybe the truest part—knows that he's right, and that if I could just let myself, I would feel the same.

Another part is almost panicking. This is too intense, too sudden, and too much out of my control.

And yet another part has fixated on how unhappy Ambrose looks.

"Is this... not a good thing?" I ask, and swallow a sudden thickness at the back of my throat. I don't know if dragons have mates the same way Wolves do, or if—like Wolves—they have a choice, but if I had a choice I wouldn't choose me.

He must see something of my thoughts on my face, and his expression softens. "It's true, little wolf: I never thought I'd meet my fated match—much less that he'd be a sad, bedraggled little thing appearing in the middle of the night, all loveless and lost—but I'm glad that I have, and I'm glad that it's you. If I appear unhappy, it is only because... well, because now this makes better sense to me."

Pulling a folded rectangle of paper from his pocket, he hands it over. Opening it, I see it's a postcard. On the back is a cat's-paw stamp made in red ink. On the front is a picture of the full moon.

"I found it this morning, out in the postbox by the street. Thought it was a mistake, at first. I don't have a gift-relic, after all. I more am one—if you consider my mother's wish. And if vengeance is the thief's motive, I don't know what I've done to merit it, except to have been born. More than that, I couldn't fathom what it was the thief might take, that I would fear to lose. This house? My grandfather's things?" He shakes his head. "I may be a dragon's child, but I've never held physical possessions very dear. I couldn't think of a single thing I could not bear to lose." He draws a long breath, then lets it out. "I suppose I have the answer, now," he says.

I swallow again, looking at the postcard. "You really think it means me?"

He shakes his head. "Not for certain, no. The full moon is likely a reference to when the thief will strike, more than to you or your nature. I only know that if the thief were to take my most prized possession... Well, it would be you."

I look up at him sharply. "Even if I am your mate, I don't belong to you," I reply. "How could the thief have found out about that, anyway? We've barely been together."

Ambrose shrugs. "Another mystery, if it is what this means."

"Great," I sigh. "Dane's going to love this."

"You needn't bother him tonight," Ambrose says, leaning closer and stroking the side of my face, apparently undeterred by my mood. "Tomorrow will be soon enough—the moon's not full for another two weeks. For tonight... Well, will you let me buy you dinner, at least?"

I hesitate. I'm still tired, hungry, and grumpy—and now on top of that, I'm scared and a little overwhelmed, and more confused than ever. As my stomach lets out an audible growl, however, my will to be difficult—or rational—fades. Ambrose is right about one thing at least—I don't always need to understand a thing to let it be.

"Alright, dinner," I agree. "But that's all—no promises."

"Shall we have a wager?" he asks, smiling and letting his heat wash over me again as he closes the last space between us.

"Only if you want to lose," I answer, but despite everything, I can't quite keep the smile from my voice.

He hears it and his own smile returns to his lips as they meet mine. "All right," he whispers against my mouth. "I wager you won't let me kiss you."

"You're already kissing me," I point out.

"Ah, so I've lost. Then I wager you won't let me touch you," he goes on, sliding his hands down to my hips and then up the inside of my shirt, the warmth of his palms sinking through my skin.

"Ambrose," I protest, but I lean into him.

"Ah, no—lost again," he mutters, pretending to frown. "Alright—last round. I wager you won't let me have you, here and now."

His eyes meet mine, lit with fire, and then he lowers himself to his knees.

I could make him stop—I should make him stop—but I don't.

Deftly, he undoes my trousers and works me free, and I shudder and gasp, and fall against the door as he kisses, licks, and then swallows me whole. I press my hands over my mouth, but pathetic little noises keep escaping me anyway, and mere moments later he stands, wiping his lips and raising his brows as I glare half-heartedly and struggle to catch my breath.

"Well, now that you've thoroughly defeated me," he says, with a smug little smile, "I suppose the choice is yours. What would you like to eat, little wolf?"