Page 2 of Dragon Rivals of New York (Dragons of New York #3)
Chapter 2
Kyro
T he limo pulls up promptly at seven.
“We get to ride in that?” Otto looks at me with the wide-eyed excitement only the young can possess. I’m still a little surprised Cyrus invited him to his bachelor party. But the two have bonded since Cyrus joined our horde.
The car door swings open, revealing the best man, Jethro. He’s holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a bottle in the other. “Time to party, gentlemen!”
Otto whoops and hollers. I grit my teeth. Don’t breathe fire at the best man.
“I thought this was going to be a quiet dinner.” I duck into the limo after Otto.
Jethro rolls his eyes at me. “It is. ”
I look to Cyrus and his brother Midas, who are sitting at the other end of the limo. Midas gives me no expression at all, but Cyrus shrugs. “He’s difficult to reign in.”
“And you wouldn’t have me any other way.” Jethro raises his glass in Cyrus’s direction. After taking a large swig of the bubbly liquid, he pours another glass and hands it to me. “To the groom!”
I hate champagne, but I take the glass. Don’t bite off the best man’s fingers.
“Where are we going?” Otto asks, eyeing the glass in my hand while wiggling the piercing in his lip with his tongue.
I set it down in a cupholder. I’d rather have it tip and spill than drink it.
“We’ve got reservations at the best steak house in town, but we need to pick up Damian first.”
Thankfully, Damian is a dragon I can tolerate. Even if he is part of the Gold Horde. Apart from Cyrus, who joined the Silver Horde a year ago, Otto and I will be the only Silver Horde members at the party. The wedding will be the first time the two hordes have been at the same event in centuries. And before that, all mixed gatherings ended in bloodshed. I can only pray the goddess doesn’t allow Cyrus’s wedding to end the same way .
“Drink up,” Jethro says, handing me yet another glass of champagne. “This is a party.”
“I don’t like champagne.”
“Of course you don’t.” He laughs. “Very on brand for you.” He scoots across the bench seat, trapping me between him and Otto, sipping the drink he poured for me. “What’s your drink? Scotch? Whiskey? You know they’re basically the same thing.”
Don’t burn the best man’s hair to a crisp .
“They’re not the same thing,” Midas says from across the limo, answering for me. I give him a small nod, which he acknowledges with a dip of his chin.
“Suit yourself. More champagne for me.” Jethro finishes the glass and gives me a side-eye. “Tell me something you like.”
Silence. Scotch. The saxophone. Imagining the life leaving your eyes. I grind my nails into my palms. Don’t gouge out the best man’s eyes.
Jethro scoots closer and drops his voice. “Why do you hate me so much?”
The question pulls memories from their graves. Claws. Wings. Teeth. Blood.
Abruptly, I get up and move to the other side of Otto. Don’t kill the best man.
As much as I loath admitting it, I don’t hate Cyrus, and this is his wedding. For his sake, I need to keep my control and get through the next two days. Once the wedding is over, I’ll have no reason to interact with Jethro. I’ve barely seen him in the past year since our two hordes made peace. There’s no reason I’ll need to see him once we get through this wedding.
“Who’s that?” Otto points out the window.
A dragon with purple toned scales swoops down between two buildings. My muscles clench even tighter. That’s not one of our dragons. In this form and from this distance, it’s hard to tell who it is, but it’s not a member of either the Gold Horde or the Silver Horde. So what the hell are they doing in New York?
The growl that comes from Midas confirms that this dragon’s presence wasn’t planned. The king of the Gold Horde is already on his phone, typing out what I can only guess is a message to his guard to be on the lookout.
I text my queen the information while Cyrus and Midas whisper at the back of the limo.
The Week of the Goddess has always been a vulnerable time for hordes. I’ve heard stories of rivals trying to stop matings in order to weaken the horde. It’s also when challenges can be made to the throne. Hell, during the last Goddess Week, we attacked the Gold Horde.
“Let’s not let the possibility of an enemy ruin the night,” Jethro says, holding his glass high. “I’m sure the guard will be on it. And they’re probably just passing through. Nothing more.”
Hopefully. Years of living on scraps have made me overly cautious, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a bad omen.
After picking up Damian, we make it to the restaurant, and I manage to make it through dinner without killing the best man, which I’d call a success.
Now, he’s ordering us yet another round of fucking champagne and insisting we crash Finley’s bachelorette party.
“Is Finley nervous about the transformation?” Damian asks. He’s more thoughtful and empathetic than the other Gold Horde dragons I’ve met.
Especially Jethro.
In a year of peace, Jethro's never once shown remorse for what he did or any kind of empathy toward me.
I throw back the glass of scotch I ordered and signal the waiter to bring me another.
“She’s more nervous about the wedding.” Cyrus swallows back a glass of champagne like it’s a shot of vodka .
The Week of the Goddess begins the night of the wedding. Finley will become a dragon that same night.
“I would have eloped a year ago,” he says. “But she wanted the big wedding, everything perfect. It’s stressing her out so much her hair’s going gray.”
“Really?” Otto asks, his boyish face shocked.
“No.” Cyrus claps the younger man on the shoulder. “It’s a figure of speech.”
Otto’s cheeks flame bright pink. He’s a gullible kid. Takes everything literally. And always gets embarrassed about it. I silently push my untouched champagne in his direction. He gives me a thankful look and downs the social lubricant.
“Here’s to this fucking wedding being behind us.” Midas raises his glass, and I wonder what he has to be grumpy about. Then again, I’ve never seen the king of the Gold Horde smile, so maybe this is just his norm.
“Here’s to dragon mates!” Jethro adds drunkenly.
“Keep your voice down,” I growl. The asshole draws too much attention everywhere he goes. Dragons should keep a low profile, not announce themselves to the world.
“Aw, are you embarrassed?” He coos at me. Fucking idiot. “Are you worried someone will think we’re playing a dragon role playing game?” He leans too close, his breath sweet from liquor. “Don’t worry, Ky, you’re too massive for anyone to think you’re anything but what you are, a giant asshole.”
He’s speaking quietly enough that no one else hears him, distracted with their own conversations for a moment. There’s a smile on his face, but the look in his eyes burns as we stare each other down. I don’t know what I did to deserve venom from a man who is nothing but jovial with everyone else. But I know exactly what he did to me, what he stole from me.
"What's your problem?" I ask.
"I don't have a problem. You're the one who has a problem with me. You get all growly every time I'm around. I'm just responding in turn."
I bite my lip to keep from biting his head off.
“So, are we going to crash the girl’s party?” He turns to the rest of the table, raising his voice and elbowing Cyrus. “You miss her, don’t you?”
Cyrus grins good-naturedly, not arguing. Which isn’t surprising. He and his mate are insufferable, always together, joined at the hip.
I down my second glass of Scotch. “This is supposed to be a guy’s night. ”
“I want my mate.” Midas follows his growl by finishing his drink in one gulp. He’s not drinking the champagne either, opting instead for a dirty martini with extra olives.
“You’re making us jealous,” Otto says with a laugh that’s only half joking.
I recognize the poorly disguised feeling. It’s been years since any of the Silver Horde dragons have found mates. After centuries of wars and low birthrates, we’re the smallest of the nine hordes. All of us are now over twenty-three, except for Otto, and we know our mates aren’t among us. Not anymore.
It’s part of why our Ra’a needed this peace. We need more interactions with the other hordes, and the trade the Gold Horde does with the other nine is the key to getting that.
“Alright, alright,” Cyrus laughs. “Let’s go.”