Not a dream, then.
He groaned and pulled the pillow over his face. Basil meowed indignantly and resumed his assault on Sam’s ribcage.
“Fine, fine.” Sam shuffled downstairs, fed the cat, made coffee, and stood at the kitchen window staring at nothing while his brain tried toreconcile dragons are real with “I have to work tomorrow.”
After his second cup, Sam wandered to his laptop. The document sat exactly where he’d left it on Friday night - the chapter where Kieran, Dante, and Alaric were about to reveal their vampire nature to Michael, their unsuspecting barista mate.
Sam read the first paragraph and started laughing, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He laughed until tears streaked down his face, until Basil appeared in the doorway looking vaguely concerned, until his stomach actually hurt and he had to gasp for air.
His vampires. His careful, tortured vampires, circling their oblivious human with centuries of supernatural grace and logical courtship strategies. They had nothing - absolutely nothing - on his dragons. Sam wiped his eyes, closed the document, and opened a new one instead. He always thought better when he wrote things down, and afterthe night he’d had, he had a lot to write.
Sunday, November 17th
I met three dragons.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Where did he even start?
Actually, that’s not true. Rux saw me first. Through a window at Harrison’s grocery store. While I was carrying coffee and minding my own business like a normal person who definitely wasn’t about to become some kind of destined supernatural mate.
Except I was. Because apparently dragons have these things called heart stones that appear when they find their Treasure (that’s me, which is still completely insane), and Rux’s appeared the second he spotted me through the window. Then he chased me through town like some kind of ginger-haired stalker, except he was actually just panicking because dragons are terrible at modern social interaction.
Sam paused, smiling as he imagined Rux describing the scene the night before.
Then they staked out the coffee shop in a Range Rover, for twenty-five minutes, hiding behind an upside-down newspaper, until the police made them leave.
The words poured out faster than he could think. Every ridiculous, impossible moment. The anonymous gifts, Maya’s insistence that someone was courting him, Basil’s violent protection, and Rux’s six coffees and terrible conversation about laminate flooring.
Mabon tried to neg me. He read about it on some pickup artist website, apparently, so he called my maple latte “basic.” Then he panicked when I looked hurt, before throwing money at me and fleeing the café.
Urien planted me a garden, spelling out my name in flowers. Because he’s a dragon, it was only visible from the air, and apparently, he forgot humans can’t fly.
Then they invited me to dinner, and cooked enough food for a wedding reception, served it on beautiful porcelain fit for royalty, and then watched me eat like my opinion on risotto would determine the fate of nations.
Sam stopped typing, flexing his fingers, and then rubbing his chin.
When I accused them of making fun of me - because why else would three gorgeous, powerful beings want someone like me - they looked devastated, as if the idea that I didn’t believe they wanted me was the worst thing I could’ve said.
Then they showed me their heart stones, glowing in their chests, pulsing in sync.
Then they shifted into dragons.
Then they told me I could refuse the bond and they’d love me anyway, for however long I’d let them.
His hands shook slightly on the keys.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if this is real or if I’m having some kind of breakdown. But Ihugged them, all three of them, and I promised to try.
Because maybe - just maybe - someone finally chose me. Three someones, actually… Who happen to be dragons.
Sam saved the document and closed his laptop.
/~/~/~/~/
The overflowing laundry basket wasn’t going to empty itself. Dragons or no dragons, socks still needed washing.
Sam hauled the basket downstairs, Basil weaving between his ankles like he was determined to cause a fatal accident. Apparently, surviving three fantastical predators wasn’t enough - Sam’s cat still wanted him dead.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sam muttered, dumping clothes into the machine. Basil chirped and headbutted his shin.
