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I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Declan’s use of ‘modern day slang’, as he called it, was comical.
He liked to keep up with today’s youth by listening to the radio and watching the television I’d set up in his cave—a cave that he still lived in despite offering him different living accommodations that were closer to the sanctuary.
He told me the music and shows gave him a good insight into the youthful population that they target.
I can still remember the first time Declan had heard a rap song.
He’d been so appalled that he’d broken every radio within a five-mile radius. To this day, it was still spoken about. It was also another reason that the surrounding town was scared shitless of Declan, and therefore me.
Apparently, the dragon’s roar of outrage had been felt as well as heard.
I passed through the kitchen, waving at my mother as I went.
She didn’t say anything, as usual.
Mom was a mute. She hadn’t spoken a word since my father had died fourteen years ago.
My family thought it’d been because my mother was still mourning my father’s death. Of course, I did feel that it did play some part in her silence, but it wasn’t the only reason, and I’ve never gotten a true answer out of my mother about it.
My mother waved back, mashing something sickening into a bowl on the counter. It was probably something for the little ones to snack on; I just wished she didn’t cook it in our kitchen.
I made it out the back door and down the porch steps to the deck before I was tackled.
I went down, curling my body into a ball and rolling as I laughed at the tiny little terrors now crawling all over my body.
It was customary for the dragon to tell you what it wanted to be called, and normally, it was based off the era they were born in. These three rambunctious horrors weren’t named as of yet and wouldn’t be named for another four months, at least.
They were a little over eight months old and wouldn’t be gaining their full telepathic communication abilities, like I had with Declan, until they were at least a year old.
They could, however, send pictures to me.
All three of them sent pictures of snow, ice and a pond.
I sighed. I should’ve known.
Gesturing with my hand, I moved all of the large things out of the middle of the yard. The chairs and table were the first things to move, followed shortly by the A-frame porch swing.
I focused my mind, centering on the air around the legs of the chair, and willed the air to harden around them. From there, it was just pushing with my mind, willing a small amount of wind to carry them to the destination I wished them to be. The gazebo and the swing set were a little harder, but I managed it with a little more focus.
It was something that was so normal to me that it happened sometimes whether I wanted it to or not.
Often times when I was busy working on ledgers at the office or working at the shop, things sort of floated around me.
I had to be exceedingly careful when I was doing that. If the wrong person saw, a shit storm of epic proportions would be swirling around me within minutes.
Dragon riders were highly sought after and very popular.
It was also well known that the only people who could utilize the powers derived from the elements were dragon riders; and I most certainly didn’t want to have my face plastered on billboards like Derek did.
Poor bastard.
I also borrowed power from one of my two brothers if the need ever arose.
Most of the time it wasn’t a problem, but they’d send back a gentle push over our bonds if it wasn’t a good time.
Which rarely ever happened.
My brothers could also do the same with me.
If I let them.
Something I almost always allowed.
The younglings swirling around my knees bumped me with their heads, their sharp horns poking me like large needles in my thighs in their excitement.
“Chill,” I reprimanded gently, pushing the one getting entirely too close to my dick away with a gentle push.
They all looked at me with their softly glowing golden gazes and sat.
Their blue and purple wings folded at their backs tightly, and their little butts quivered as they waited.
The younglings were ice dragons, as their coloring denoted. Most dragons could be identified by the shades of their hides.
They loved the cold, and would normally be at our northernmost safe area, but it’d been compromised a few weeks ago, which had contributed to Derek, one of the best dragon riders in the country, being injured.
These three were only a few of the ones saved, and our sanctuary was now nearly at full capacity.
“So, how cold do you want it? Cold, as in frozen solid, or cold like mostly frozen on the surface and cold water beneath?” I asked.
