Page 5 of Immortal Bonds

If anything, he was a pacifist, keeping to himself and not even letting others acknowledge his craft when they found out what he did. It was easier for him to be behind the scenes, to not let others know who the man behind the crafts was. He'd survived as long as he had because of it, and he would continue to do so.

The people in front of him stepped forward, giving room for Creighton to follow. He glanced at the menu though he knew what he wanted. He got the same thing every time. The espresso with mocha and two shots of type O. He preferred it to the other blends they had because it just added a hint of sweetness with the chocolate.

He knew he should probably dial it back a bit, but he was tired of rules, tired of other people managing his life. It's why he'd left his family behind and come to San Noctis all those years ago. He needed the freedom, the lack of judgment. No one would tell him he was being a baby in San Noctis. Most people didn't even notice him, which was great. Exactly what he wanted.

The few that did were typically telling him how much they loved his work and asking if he had any availability on his calendar. As a professional stuffy designer, he kept busy. People often reached out to him to craft work for their children.

There was also a subset of people who wanted the items for themselves. Those were his biggest customers. His most loyal, because they came back time and time again, any chance they got, whether it be for a new stuffy or to gift a friend.

And the Daddies…

Creighton sighed aside as he thought of them. What he wouldn't give to have one of his own. One who would spoil him endlessly, who would see a need and fulfill it before he ever had to ask.

Creighton didn't know if he would ever get such, especially since he couldn't scent anyone. If he had a fated mate, which several vampires did, then he would need to be able to smell them to confirm it.

His fear of being exposed like that was working against him. If he couldn't scent them to know, he had to rely on them to approach.

He couldn't see that happening, of course. He never went anywhere. Never allowed himself to be in spaces with people because they would inevitably ask him about his blockers.

You couldn't see them when you looked at Creighton. Still, he often had to adjust them, or if life was really being a pain, he would need to sniff several times to get them to settle.

Speaking of which, he discreetly squeezed his nostrils together, feigning as if he had a headache so no one would ask what he was doing. Picking your nose wasn't acceptable in human spaces, nor in supernatural ones. The nose was a powerful tool. It helped supernaturals navigate every layer of connection.

Finding out his didn't function properly, that he had a disability, often made people treat him differently. And he did not want that.

Before he knew it, he was at the front counter and facing the barista.

"Your usual?" she asked.

He smiled softly, reaching up to adjust his glasses. "Yes, please, Amy."

The young girl smiled and took his payment. He moved out of the way so the next customer could go. He only had to wait a moment because everyone in the café knew him, and most knew about his blockers as well. They knew how shy he was. After so many years of coming in, they had mastered his order as quickly and efficiently as possible.

"We have it ready for you."

He took his drink from a different barista, Matt, and took a sip right there at the counter. He closed his eyes, sighing at the rich, smooth feel of it on his tongue.

Yes, this was what he needed. Coming here would be worth it for him to have the delicious drink. It would be worth it for him to withstand the awkwardness of being in the rush hour.

He waved goodbye to the others as discreetly as possible and slipped out of the building. He was standing on the sidewalk looking out at the town that was very much awake and bustling, more so than he usually got to see it, and froze at the sight of a man in the distance.

"Who is that?" he whispered to himself. He’d never seen the individual before.

Creighton wasn't one to boast, but he did know pretty much everyone who lived in San Noctis. He had come across their paths, either through his business or through multiple connections over the years. The degree of separation between people wasn't as thick as one might think.

As Creighton stared at the man, he felt a warmth spread through his body. What was going on? he thought to himself. He didn't understand how this person could have him feeling this way.

Sure, he was handsome, with a big, broad chest and more muscles than Creighton usually saw on people. It wasn't off-putting, which surprised him. If anything, he had the urge to go up and touch the other man.

He wouldn't, obviously. That was rude. He didn't just go pet people.

Still, he thought about what it would feel like to run his hands over those broad shoulders. He thought about what he could possibly learn if he approached this big, majestic person.

Majestic was the perfect word.

Creighton didn't need to see their dragon form to know they were someone regal, someone who had held lots of power. Maybe they were there for the talk with the council. Creighton had heard a bit about it through his customers that had been coming in lately.

After a surprising reveal of treason from one of the council members, they needed to have a vote to see who they could bring on next. They needed to be someone trustworthy with a good upbringing.