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No matter what happened, he would spend the rest of his life by Peregrine’s side. It was as sure a thing as the rise and fall of the sun.
When the kiss broke, Sebastian came to lie next to Peregrine and took his hand once more. “Do you think you might love me back?” he asked after some time.
Tension ran all through Peregrine’s arm, and he did not reply.
“I didn’t mean to demand your love,” Sebastian hastened to add. “There is much weighing on you, I know. There is much weighing on me as well. It seems selfish to ask for your heart when it has been so recently broken, but I am a dragon, and selfishness is my nature, so it behooved me to ask. I understand if you are not able to give me a response. I do hope that it does come one day, however.”
Peregrine sucked in a tremulous breath, like he was once more on the verge of tears. “Sebastian…” he whispered, then was quiet.
“I am not a dragon of many words,” Sebastian admitted into the silence that followed. “And I often do not know how to convey the truth in my heart. It comes out as grunts and snarls and smoke, and sometimes in teeth and claws. But as inadequate as I am, I do have words for this. I am gutted. Not because there will be no eggs, but because of the loss we have suffered. And in truth, the only reason I have not gone mad is because of you.” Sebastian paused to reflect on it. “Because the love I have for you makes me feel like this isn’t the end. So even if you cannot love me, please tell me that this is not over. That we are not over. Because if that is the case, I must learn to accept it now, or surely I will succumb and madness will claim me.”
Peregrine sobbed, his hand escaping Sebastian’s so he could cup it over his mouth. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “You,” he warbled, “are the reason I have not broken entirely. I love you, Sebastian. I love you with every beat of my heart, no matter how foolish that may be.”
Grief could not be brushed aside by a declaration of love, but it could be soothed by it. Such was the case for Sebastian, whose heart mourned for what it had lost, but rejoiced for what it had gained.
Tears in his eyes, he pulled Peregrine into his arms and kissed him fiercely. Peregrine whimpered, then locked his arms around Sebastian’s neck and kissed him back.
It was perfect in a way Sebastian had never known perfect could be. Goose bumps rose on his arms, and a shiver worked its way up his spine.
Mate, whispered his dragon. Ours.
And Sebastian, even without absolute proof, agreed. He and his dragon both knew it in their sinews and muscles, scales and bones.
Peregrine was their mate.
All that was left was for him to prove it, for once he did, no man—dragon or otherwise—would dare speak of parting him from Peregrine again.
24
Sebastian
Present Day
“Your brother’s mate is here to see you, sir,” Stanford, the butler, intoned gravely.
Without looking up from the papers on his desk, Sebastian said, “Which one?”
“He specifically means me.” This was proclaimed, rather than said, and spoken in a Russian accent. It had to be Misha. And indeed, when Sebastian looked up, that was who he saw.
Misha, Reynard’s mate, was of the Pedigree, but the difference between him and Perry could not be more stark. While Perry favored clothing that drew the eye and enhanced all of his best features, Misha preferred the kind of fashion most commonly found on the street. Such was the problem with the modern iteration of the Pedigree—or at least the Diamond cloisters, in which Misha had been raised. They were entirely too informal. A dragon’s mate was a living jewel deserving of finery, not this common dross. Alas, Sebastian had no say over any omega—not even his own—and so he kept the comment to himself.
Misha did not dress to please him, after all, and as unfortunate as it was, the omega was entitled to wear whatever he liked.
Today, what he liked was a baggy black hoodie with cat ears on its hood and tight-fitting skinny jeans that conformed to his slender legs. A shock of blond hair swept over his brow, unkempt, and the look on his face suggested he didn’t give a damn what Sebastian thought about it.
It was, perhaps, the part of his look that Sebastian most enjoyed.
“Where is Reynard?” Sebastian asked. “Has something happened? I see no other reason you would be here on your own.”
“Calm down, drakon. Reynard is well. He is with the boys.” Misha slid his phone out of his pocket to check something, then returned it and looked Sebastian in the eyes. “I am not here because of him. I am here because of you.”
Sebastian prickled. “Go on.”
“Your security system.” Misha gestured into the air. “Substandard at best.”
“My security is not substandard.”
“Yes, it is. Unless you have an explanation for what happened last night?”
