Page 247 of The Chosen One Universe: Volume One

Cecil returned long enough to remove the ice packs from Sawyer’s feet and fuss over them all for a few minutes. Everyone wanted to be close, to make sure they were all still there, still present and alive, no matter what the last few days had wrought.

Sawyer drifted to sleep, and then Henry. Andvari remained awake, but he was lost in thought. No doubt grieving for the loss of his brethren who’d lost their lives at Magdalen’s hand.

The clock on the wall across the room ticked. It’s incessant reminder that another second had passed without Eduard with them. Hours passed, and he didn’t return.

Draco comforted Sawyer through a nightmare, soothed him back to sleep, and then climbed from the bed. He crossed to the window where Saeward still stood watch.

“Go get in bed beside him,” Draco demanded. His eyes flamed and he dared the hippocamp to refuse.

Saeward thought to argue, but instead tilted his head to the side and gave Draco a questioning look.

“He needs comfort right now, security,” Draco explained. “He likes being surrounded by us. I need to go get Eduard. Take my place. I’m not saying you have to do anything else but give him comfort and keep my spot warm.”

Saeward nodded before going to the bed and curling up next to Sawyer. Sawyer let out a sigh and rolled closer to his newest guardian, seeking warmth and protection.

“Bring him home,” Andvari said quietly. He rose from the bed and claimed Saeward’s abandoned spot by the balcony.

“I will,” Draco promised.

He didn’t have to go as far as he feared. When he marched down the stairs, Cecil cleared his throat from the door at the side of the room. He gestured toward the other side of the house before stepping back into the room and closing the door.

Draco fumed. Eduard was in the house? For how long? And why hadn’t immediately come to them? He’d obviously told Cecil not to alert them that Eduard had returned, and that made Draco even more angry.

Draco found Eduard in the opposite wing, sitting behind an antique desk with a stack of paperwork in front of him. His laptop whirled with numbers, and Draco saw red. He stormed into the room and swiped the paperwork off the desk. It rained down on the floor, snowy white papers fluttering through the air.

“Draco!”

“What are you doing?” Draco hissed.

“Working. Obviously.”

Draco growled, long and low. “Try again.”

Eduard pushed to his feet, fire in his eyes as well. “I. Am. Working.”

But Draco could hear it, the little flip of his heartbeat when he spoke.

“Why aren’t you with your mates?” His voice had bottomed out in his anger, his dragon threatening to emerge and claim his mate once more, to show him where he belonged.

“I had to handle the paperwork, Draco. Someone had to. Mag—” Eduard’s voice faltered. He cleared his throat nervously. “Magdalen’s estate needed to be dealt with.”

“By you?” Draco asked. “Right now?”

He stalked closer, rounding the desk so there were inches between them.

“Yes. It needed—”

“No. Tell me.”

Eduard huffed and pushed Draco’s chest, but he didn’t budge. “Draco, I have to—”

“No. Tell me.”

“Tell you what! I need to take care of—”

“No.”

“Draco, stop interrupting me. Magdalen’s will—”