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On the plane, the three of them sat in seats facing each other with the palace guards huddled together on the other end, Jeremiah’s hand on his thigh while the Dragon—Storm—sat across from them, and he and Jeremiah went over the information they had. Nothing had changed, and no new information had come to light, and Remi could tell both Alpha Team members were frustrated.
“Maybe they just wanted to freak us out,” Remi offered into the tense silence that had fallen over the jet.
Jeremiah gave him a pinched look. “No one uses that kind of power or force if they just want to scare you. I should have died at the beach.”
Remi shuddered, remembering how horrible it had been to see him so hurt. The idea of losing him… He took a breath. “So why do you think they’ve gone quiet?”
“I want to say it’s because they’re trying to lull us into a false sense of security, but I don’t think that’s it,” Jeremiah said.
Storm rumbled his assent. “Anyone with the knowledge and power they possess knows us better than that. We don’t drop our guard.”
Remi sighed and looked out the window at the mountaintops. They were passing over the border into Averna—the Kingdom of the Gargoyles. The Dragons lived in mated groups called Hoards, in the forests, ocean, and mountains there, trusting almost no one but the alliance they had with the Gargoyles.
All of that had been drilled into Remi’s head from his childhood—necessary education if he was going to sit on the throne and be an effective ruler. The thought of that was like another weight pressing on his chest, and he looked at Jeremiah, who was staring at him with a concerned frown.
“What’s wrong?”
Remi rubbed his sternum, feeling a spark of… not quite fear but something like it. Jeremiah seemed to sense his emotions, and it was happening to him too. He desperately wanted to speak to someone about it, but he was too afraid.
He wanted to hope that it meant something—that fate would give him someone like Jeremiah—but he would be laughed out of the conversation if he asked. Humans rarely found mates, and only with a particularly strong Supe, like his dad did with his mom. Remi might have been shifting easier now, but he was still so damn human.
“We’re landing in fifteen,” Storm said, startling Remi out of his thoughts. There was a frown on his face, and Remi recognized it a little too well. It was the look of a man who didn’t want to be noticed by the people he was about to see.
“Are you okay?”
Storm looked at him, surprised. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re making the same face I make whenever I have to give an interview.”
Snorting, Storm rolled his eyes. “The Hoard that took in your brother and sister belong to one of my brothers. They’re very powerful and very kind, but…”
Remi waited, but Storm just swallowed thickly and shot Jeremiah a pleading glance.
Jeremiah sighed and lifted Remi’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Storm was politely asked to leave their Thunder.”
A Thunder was like a clan, Remi knew, made up of Hoards of bonded Dragons, who always had three or more mates. He also knew it was rare for a Dragon of Storm’s age to not have a single mate yet or not have found another Thunder to join. Even the palace guards who were Dragons belonged to a Thunder and had long stretches of time off to spend with their mates and families.
“Is it rude for me to ask why?”
Storm shook his head. “No. It’s just… difficult for me to speak about.”
Jeremiah drew Remi’s attention back to him. “He’s… different. He has no desire to be with a Hoard. Wanting only one mate isn’t something tolerated by most Thunders. He came out to them when he was a teenager, and he was disowned by his parents. But then he found us and our merry little band of outcasts.”
“You’re not—” Remi started, but Jeremiah touched his cheek gently, stopping him.
“We are, and we’re not ashamed of it. Storm’s made peace with some of his brothers—this one and Thorne in particular. But it’s not easy for him to go home.”
“You could have stayed,” Remi said.
Storm smiled politely. “No. I’m acting as an envoy. Dragons are fiercely secretive—to the point of xenophobia sometimes. My brother’s not as much as some of the others, but it’s safer this way.”
With that, Storm rose and walked to the back of the plane to give instructions to the palace guards, and Remi turned in his seat to better face his Hellhound.
“He’s still hurt.”
“Something I think you understand a bit too well,” Jeremiah said.
Remi swallowed heavily, and Jeremiah tugged him over for a quick kiss. “I wish none of you had to feel that way.”
