Page 88 of Dragon’s Ending

Chapter Thirty-three

BEN

Dominic’s hope had slowly grown as the morning had passed without a summons to see Rhodri. But lunch had changed everything.

“Abimelech Mortimer will be visiting us this evening,” Rhodri announced to the gathered family. “Glenys will provide further details.”

The buzz of conversation around the table sounded almost as shocked as I felt. I raised my eyebrows at Dominic, who was silently sitting beside his father, carefully still. He gave me the very slightest of shrugs in return.

It wasn’t until we were away from the lunch table that I was able to ask him. “Why on earth would Mortimer come here? The only thing I can think of is to see your records for himself, but they’re not that interesting.”

And despite how pale he still was from the strain of lunch and Rhodri’s proximity, Dominic laughed.

“Oh, I’m going to remind you of that for the rest of your life, historian,” he informed me. “Might even get a t-shirt made. One that has Fuck history – Ben Berstow on the back.”

I pulled a face at him. “You know what I mean.”

And he did. He sobered. “I have no idea why he’s here,” he said, as he held the records room door open for me. “But it does explain why Rhodri hasn’t kicked me out yet. It doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind—it’s that he won’t do anything that might destabilise the family just before Mortimer turns up on our doorstep.”

Bitterness spiralled through his voice, and I couldn’t blame him. I hated that he was right.

* * *

We’d actually managed to change together for supper without getting distracted. But the moment I saw Dominic in his suit, I realised that state of affairs was unlikely to last much longer. The suit fitted him to perfection. Worse, it seemed designed purely to remind me of the body underneath it. The black jacket broadened his shoulders, nipped in at his waist, and the trousers somehow made his thighs look eminently lickable.

He'd shaved carefully, leaving not even a hint of shadow along his jaw, and done something to tame his hair that made him seem more formal. It also made him even more impossible to look away from.

His deep brown eyes flicked up briefly to mine, amused at the way I couldn’t stop staring at him, before he returned his attention to the cufflink he was fastening. It blazed with green fire as it caught the light.

“That’s beautiful,” I told him. Because if I focused on little things, I might be able to stop myself from shoving him down on the bed and ripping those clothes right off him. Possibly.

He picked up the second one and showed it to me briefly, his dragon in his eyes. Not in a threatening way, though. Simply there, the way it so often was with him. As he fastened the cufflink, he crooned to it softly.

I’d never heard a dragon croon in human form before, and honestly, it might have been the best sound I’d ever heard.

I’d always envied dragons who could carry their treasure around with them. It wasn’t so easy to slip a fragile fifteenth-century historical document into a pocket. But at the same time, I didn’t feel that need to have my treasure with me all the time. If I did, I’d probably spend my days curled up in the records room, refusing to leave. Maybe it was because the knowledge was in my head, and so was already with me. But then, that would make my treasure knowledge, not history, so…

“You ready?” Dominic interrupted my thoughts, as he straightened my tie. Or rather, un-straightened it, because it had been perfect as it was. But as he leaned in and kissed me, I instantly forgave him. His tongue slid against mine, and as I kissed him back, I cupped my hand to his jaw, loving how smooth his skin was just after shaving.

And then he nudged his thigh between mine, and hell’s teeth, we couldn’t do this now. Turning up late to this particular supper would be the end for Dominic. In fact, we’d probably both end up flamed to a crisp.

I pulled back, breathless. “Supper,” I reminded him. “Mortimer.”

“Oh, God. You know how to kill a mood,” he said. “I still don’t know why he’d come here rather than summoning Rhodri to him.”

“Maybe he really does want to see your records for himself,” I said.

“To prove Arthur stole the throne from Mordred and the Mortimers are the true kings of Britain, so he can mount a coup and take over Buckingham Palace?”

I stared at him.

“What?” he said. “If we’re going to do conspiracy theories, I think we should commit.” He checked himself one last time in the mirror, before holding out his hand to me. “You ready for this?”

Hand in hand, we descended the staircase, and I was hopeful that by the time we’d made it down two floors, my lips would look a little less thoroughly snogged. Dominic was moving more easily today, though under his clothes, he was covered in gruesome-looking bruises.

The great hall was full of Bedwyr dragons, rather more than the twenty who were usually at the dining table. Everyone was dressed up, and the sound of multiple people talking all at once held an unmistakable undertone of excitement. Apparently this was the first time Abimelech Mortimer had visited Dragon’s Ending.

Rhodri was standing by his study door, talking intently to Dylan. As voices echoed through the hall, I could feel the tension back in Dominic again, beneath the apparent ease and immaculate tailoring.