“We are courting a human,” Rux pointed out.
“But we’re not human. Maybe that’s the problem.”
Mabon closed his laptop. “Go on.”
“Dragons don’t play games.” Urien’s blue eyes darkened with conviction. “We find our mate, and we claim them.”
“We can’t tell him we’re dragons,” Mabon said.
“I’m not saying we tell him everything. I’m saying we stop pretending to be something we’re not.”
Rux leaned forward. “You mean just...talk to him? Normally?”
“Is there a normal way to tell someone your heart stone glows when they smile, and your dragon demands you build them a nest?”
“There has to be middle ground between stalking and complete honesty.”
Mabon considered it. They’d spent two weeks trying to court Sam using human strategies that felt alien and wrong. What if they just...tried being themselves?
“We’d still have to hide the dragon part,” Mabon said slowly.
“Obviously.”
“And the two-thousand-year lifespan.”
“That too.”
“And the hoard.”
“For now.”
“So we’d be ourselves, except for ninety percent of what we actually are.”
Urien smiled grimly. “It’s an improvement over suits and sad cookies.”
“I’ve got one more thing to try first,” Mabon said firmly. “One more technique, if you like, that, according to what I read earlier, is guaranteed to work.”
Chapter Nine
Mabon
Mabon walked into the Daily Bean with confidence. He’d done his research. Negging - when used correctly - created attraction by demonstrating value while keeping the target from becoming complacent. The article had been very specific:Keep it playful. Never cruel. The goal is to intrigue, not to wound.
Sam stood behind the counter, restocking cups. He looked up when the bell chimed, and his face brightened into that smile that made Mabon’s heart stone pulse beneath his shirt.
“Hi! Back again?”
“Couldn’t stay away from the coffee.” Mabon approached the counter, channeling casual charm. “I’ll have whatever you recommend.”
“Really?” Sam’s expression suggested he was pleased. “Most people already know what they want.”
“I trust your judgment.”
Sam ducked his head, ears going pink. “I, um. I’d probably go with the maple latte. It’s seasonal.”
“I’ll have that, thanks.”
While Sam prepared the drink, Mabon rehearsed the line. Gentle teasing. Just a playful observation. He needed to show Sam he was interesting enough to merit attention, but keep him engaged.
