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There, on the pier, was a waterlogged Alistair. A tangle of seaweed crowned his head.
“I am no cumberground, brother.” Alistair tore the seaweed off his head. “Nor am I a frog, which is why intervention was necessary. I am a creature of the sky, not the sea.”
Sebastian pulled himself onto the pier. “And what, exactly, do you think I am?”
“Well, I don’t take you for a frog, but you are by far a better swimmer than I am, and I’m not ashamed to ask for help when help is needed. Should you ever find yourself in need of a scholar, you know on whom to call.”
Sebastian wrung water from his shirt, but it was of little help—he was well and truly soaked. It seemed to occur to him that he was fighting a losing battle, as he gave up the cause and left his brother to approach Peregrine.
Peregrine smiled sweetly at him, which did seem to improve Sebastian’s mood, if only by the barest margin. He took Peregrine by the hand and, once he was secured, forged a path through the crowd.
“Sebastian, wait!” Alistair squawked. “There’s water to shake out of my boot!”
“Shake it on the way.” Sebastian’s hand tightened around Peregrine’s. “My omega has been sickly and needs his rest. We will not delay.”
Peregrine looked over his shoulder at Alistair, who was hopping along behind them. It wasn’t his place to meddle in the affairs of dragons, but to him, it didn’t seem right.
“Please wait, my lord,” Peregrine pleaded. “We’re in no rush. I’m well.”
Sebastian stopped immediately.
“We can wait for your brother to be ready,” Peregrine said earnestly. “It won’t take long.”
Sebastian looked him over with wild eyes, their pupils huge and dark. It was the same look he gave Peregrine before he brought him to bed, and seeing it sent a shiver down Peregrine’s spine.
Sebastian desired him.
What a strange, impossible, powerful thing.
“Thank you,” said a hopping Alistair as he struggled to return his soaked boot to his foot. “I shan’t be long. All it takes is a shake or two.”
“Fine.” Sebastian spoke in low tones, but his voice was loud in Peregrine’s chest, where it made his heart pound. “We will wait.”
“Some sense from you at last. You know, perhaps gallivanting about with this omega isn’t as terrible as it seems if he’s able to reason with you. Maybe next he can convince you to let me sun myself. The pier is radiantly warm.”
Sebastian growled, and Alistair, surprised, gasped and fell straight on his ass with a squishy plop.
“Please, my lord,” Peregrine murmured. “He means you no harm.”
Sebastian’s dark eyes turned on Peregrine. “You’re right, Perry,” he said, then ran his fingers through Peregrine’s curls. “I will be more gentle.”
Pinpricks of pleasure shot through him. “Thank you, my lord.”
Sebastian drew close and kissed him on the forehead. “Anything for you.”
* * *
Sebastian obtained a room at an inn and made love to Peregrine through much of the night. When Peregrine was no longer able to come, the dragon gathered him in his arms and held him until they both fell asleep.
The following morning, they met a much-improved Alistair in the central room in anticipation of travel. Alistair was destined for Persia, where he planned to tour its largest and most culturally important cities to view and procure art. However, Persia was quite far, and would require them to shelter in several cities along the way. From Beirut, they would travel to Damascus, and then from there to more cities than Peregrine could recall. He knew very little about any of them, which turned out to be fine, as it seemed Sebastian knew equally little, if not less.
“Where are we to procure horses?” Sebastian demanded after they had broken their fast. “Did you happen to notice a stable?”
Alistair shook his head. “There are no horses. Only camels.”
“Camels?”
“Yes, brother. Like horses, only sandier.”
