Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Rogan shook his head. “That’s completely untrue. Where did you get that idea?”
“Come on, Rogan. Who stockpiles tampons? You were obviously planning for a female mate and got stuck with me.”
“Will you come with me? There’s something I should have shared with you,” Rogan asked quietly.
“Will it make a difference?” Brooks asked, skeptically.
“I hope so.”
“Okay,” Brooks agreed with another shrug.
Rogan took his hand and tugged him to the stairs. Brooks followed him to the main floor and then toward the back entrance of the mansion. The shifter turned into a small closet-like room only to stop at a piece of art created from thousands of small pieces of stone meticulously placed together. Rogan glided his fingers over the fragments, pressing here and there in a seemingly random pattern.
Brooks stared when Rogan pressed on the mosaic, and the entire wall grumbled before swinging open. Rogan walked forward into the darkness, tugging Brooks with him. Once the wall closed behind him, Rogan exhaled a stream of fire to ignite a torch.
“Come, Adventurer. I should have shown you this a long time ago, but I wanted to make sure it was prepared for you. This staircase will take us under the mansion. After your reaction to the dust in my hoard, Sara and my staff have scrubbed this area from ceiling to floor. It is now safe for you.”
“Rogan, I don’t see how the basement is going to help.”
“I know you don’t. Do this for me, please.”
“Okay. You don’t have to do this, Rogan. It’s okay. I understand that all mates aren’t perfect.”
“You don’t understand anything if you believe that,” Rogan corrected him sharply before softening his tone. “Come with me, please.”
“Fine. Lead on.”
The stairs wound further and further down until Brooks wondered how deep underground they’d go. Finally, the stairs ended, and darkness stretched before them. Rogan urged him forward, leading the way. As they walked through the shadowy tunnel, Rogan lit the torches spaced along the wall.
A dark opening appeared ahead in the tunnel to the left. Rogan ducked inside and lit the torch inside. A picture hung on the wall. It was a handsome man dressed in very old-fashioned clothing. Irresistibly drawn forward by curiosity, Brooks stepped closer.
The man wasn’t classically handsome. He wouldn’t have made anyone check him out. Big and brawny, his occupation must have required great strength.
“That’s Ian. I’ve told you about him. He was my first mate from Wyvern. When fate matched us together, the founding fathers tried to pull out of the deal. They hadn’t anticipated one of their sons would be a mate.” Rogan’s voice sounded soft and gentle as he gazed at the portrait on the wall.
“You loved him,” Brooks guessed.
“I have loved all my mates.”
“There was something special about him.”
“Mates are always special. Dragons live a long time and have several mates. We never forget our time with each one.”
“But Ian stands out because he was your first Wyvern?” Brooks kept pushing. A different vibe flowed from Rogan that told him this was important.
“Ian was my first fated mate. I was young and cocky. Not a virgin—far from it. Ian did not wish to be a mate. It was extremely difficult for a male to admit he was attracted to a male in those times--even with the special circumstance of a mating bond. Of course, no one understood the bond then either.”
“He wasn’t gay.”
“No. He was quite popular with the ladies. As the apprentice of Wyvern’s blacksmith, Ian took care of putting on horseshoes. Business flourished with him in the shop,” Rogan said with a smile.
“And when the mate bond snapped into place?”
“The blacksmith had to train someone new. Ian didn’t adjust well to a life of leisure. The town treated him differently, of course—polite and still thankful for supporting Wyverns as a mate, but his new lifestyle wasn’t understood.”
Brooks could read the grief on Rogan’s face. “What happened to Ian?”
“He died happily at 154. I still miss him after all this time. I think because of the hardship that characterized our first days, we learned to depend on each other exclusively. We were more than close.”
A heavy quiet filled the room as they both considered Rogan’s words. After several long seconds, Rogan said, “Let’s continue.”
One by one, Rogan led Brooks through the small chambers dedicated to his mates. In each one, he shared some information about his mate. Brooks could tell that he honestly loved each one and had treasured their time together.
“Is it rare to have a male mate since you’ve had more female ones?” Brooks asked after the last one.
“Rare? I’ve never crunched the numbers. It’s possible that the pool of females in Wyvern is larger to draw from. Or maybe other dragons have male mates while I have a female one, so the total balances?”
“Or you haven’t allowed yourself to have another male mate,” Brooks suggested, pulling that idea out of the air.