Page 83 of Another Man’s Treasure

“Mmm?” Artur looks between us. “Alright then.” He waves us toward the other side of the sitting area where the ophiotaurii chair rests. “Emmer, if you will?”

Emmer nods and drops to a knee, fishing around beneath the coils of the chair. He fingers the coil where Kohdiy’s rattle rested. The chair lets out a big snap, and a piece of the rattle rest pulls loose. The big minotaur withdraws it and lifts it.

“I’ll be damned,” Willa says with a soft, surprised noise. “A fucking key, a literal key.”

“Literal key,” Artur says as he opens his hand for Emmer to place it within. “The gulch is ready for this key to come into use again.” He gestures at the journals. “The reason it lived beneath this particular chair is that, once upon a time, the ophiotaurii were valued members of Pine Gulch society. Then they lost their queen, and their clan fell into a disorganized, warlike state. It’s not the way they’re meant to be, though.” He looks around and grabs a journal then hands it to Willa. “This book has much of this clan’s history. You’ll need it.”

I glance at Willa to find her looking relatively unsurprised at this news. I’ll have questions about that later.

“And what are we supposed to do about that?” I ask as I take the key from Artur and examine it. It’s gorgeous, all burnished golden metal and ornately beautiful, scrolled just like the symbols on the portal doors.

“Help them find their queen,” Artur says simply. “A task for a Keeper, to be sure. The ophiotaurii live as one with the land, and the way they are now is a shadow of what they are meant to be. Once fierce protectors, they are now lost and nearly disbanded.

“Nobody in my family ever tested positive for Keeping skills… We couldn’t take over Sipan’s work if we tried, and the gods know I tried.” He smiles at us. “It’s your turn.”

Spinning slowly on his heel, he heads for where Oz and I walked through the portal from the Sandoval ranch. “C’mon, slowpokes,” he says. “Let’s get this key into its door, shall we?”

Willa and I exchange a wary look, but at this point, what do we have to lose?

Emmer shoots me a big smile. “This is the part where you’re gonna get to impress your mate, cowboy.”

Cowboy.

Oz’s nickname for me.

Gritting my teeth, I nod. “Good. Let’s do this.”

“It just goes in the back of the door to the lair,” Artur explains as he hobbles toward the entrance. “Shouldn’t take us long to find.”

Good. Because after that I’m finding my mate and I’m doing everything in my power to show him how much I love him.

Oz

“Stay as long as you need to,” Bluebell says after she hangs up with Wilder. “But are you sure you don’t want to go talk to him now?”

I shrug, taking a sip of the hot chocolate she made for me after I showed up at her place freaking the absolute fuck out. “I lost it, Bluebell. Saint laid all our dirty laundry out there, and the Sandovals had this awful look on their faces. Wilder was so furious he leaped over the table to probably throttle Saint, and I just couldn’t deal. And now I’m embarrassed I left like that and probably fucked up his land deal. I just…shit, girl, I need a second to figure out how to apologize.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” She plops down next to me on the couch.

“A well-timed blow job might be in order,” Hadrian says as he enters the room with a tray full of snacks. “That’s a quote from Bridget Jones’ gay best friend, in case you haven’t seen that human movie?”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” I muse. “Just find Wilder, and instead of talking, drop to my knees and just give him a BJ instead. Sounds like a plan.”

“It works on me,” Hadrian says with a wink before he disappears toward their bedroom.

Bluebell turns, her cheeks slightly pink. “I mean, TMI, but yeah, it works when we disagree.”

I force a laugh. “You ever disagree with him?”

“Oh yeah.” She chuckles, adding more whipped cream to the top of my hot chocolate. “Mostly about my insane to-do list. But sometimes about other things, t⁠—”

A gigantic creaking sound interrupts her, and the entire building shakes. Pictures fall off her walls, and Hadrian comes running back in. He flares his huge wings around us, shoving Bluebell between our bodies.

“Protect her!” he shouts as he looks around his wing for the threat.

That deep-seated need to protect and serve hits me like a gut punch, and I throw my wings around my friend.

Above us, the building creaks more, and kitchen gadgets fall off their island, clanging to the floor. Shouts ring from outside the window. Flaring my right wing tighter around Hadrian’s, I keep Bluebell smashed between us until the sounds stop.