Page 35 of D’Vaire or Nothing (D’Vaire #44)
Along with the other people assigned to his shift, Seltivare was given a brief reminder of their tasks and the need to be professional.
The resort wasn’t open to the public yet.
Instead, the dragon Emperors had invited their large extended family, and everyone in the Council of Sorcery and Shifters was aware of the D’Vaire name.
There was a lone Draconis High Court, and it was ruled by the two High Kings D’Vaire.
Their family was a network of some of the most illustrious names in the Council.
And they would all be in the resort until Monday.
Seltivare was terrified of offending any of them, so he intended to do his job as discreetly as possible.
His mother had encouraged him to be outgoing, but that was too bad.
The spades group was sent out to perform their tasks, and Seltivare was handling garbage cans first. Since their guests were checking in and hadn’t had time yet to dirty anything, let alone fill an entire trash receptacle, he grabbed a little broom and dustpan on his way to the casino so he could pick up any stray litter.
Hours passed as Seltivare kept his head low, mumbled greetings to people’s feet, and swept up imaginary debris from the gorgeous pattern on the casino carpet.
His trips to the garden were taken with as much speed as possible, so he didn’t linger too long.
There were so many beautiful creations, and Seltivare was enamored of flowers.
But he wasn’t being paid to admire the work of famed the gardeners—Drindyr Duke Dravyn D’Vairedraconis and his mate and ruler of the Circle of Druids, Killian the Dwyer.
As his shift dragged on, Seltivare took another trip into the garden to check the trash cans.
Nothing could’ve prepared him for what happened next.
Elves lacked sexuality until Fate paired them, so Seltivare was at first appalled by his dick hardening in his sturdy work pants.
But then the sweet-and-spicy clove-like scent of azaleas filled his senses.
His mate was nearby.
Seltivare stepped around a flowering tree and found a druid-jaguar hybrid in a suit standing there with his mouth slack.
He was blond, and unlike Seltivare’s loose layers, the man’s tresses were tidy and combed away from his handsome face.
Lured by the lovely smell and beauty of his other half, Seltivare stepped closer and noted his pale brown eyes had a circle of green at the edges.
They were roughly the same height at five-foot-seven, and Seltivare’s heart thudded in a rapid staccato as he wondered if this man had some title he was supposed to recognize.
His parents had told him to pay more attention to politics, but what did Seltivare care about that when there were flowers to be grown?
“Hello,” the hybrid offered softly.
“Hi.”
Another man charged into the garden. “Hey, Ashby, are you going to the bar with us?”
Seltivare’s eyes bugged. The Circle of Druids was the exception to Seltivare’s rule of skipping politics.
Druids grew stuff and Seltivare did too, so he’d memorized everything he could about them.
Ashby. A druid-jaguar hybrid. The man Fate had chosen for him was Bard Ashby D’Vaire, and he had been given his title by Killian the Dwyer.
“Go without me, Sorrel, I’ll catch up with you later,” Ashby said. There were two bards in the Circle of Druids, and Ashby had just declined an invitation from Bard Sorrel Valonia.
“Okay, see you soon,” Sorrel responded with a wave as he left the garden.
“Excuse me, Bard D’Vaire, I need to attend to my duties,” Seltivare said once he was alone with Ashby again.
“Please call me Ashby. What’s your name?”
“Selti. Well, Seltivare, but everyone calls me Selti. You smell like azaleas.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Selti. Your scent is of sweet peas. Are you Tristis?”
Selti smiled. It was fantastic to know he smelled floral to his mate. “Yes, but my parents follow elven traditions at home.”
“Then I suppose we have a great deal to discuss. Our matebond ceremony needs to happen in the next seventy-two hours, right?”
Panic filled Seltivare, though he couldn’t identify its source. Perhaps it was the vivid picture in his mind of getting a second matebond hoop from Fate after having intercourse with the sexy man standing a few feet from him.
“That’s an elven custom, b-b-but you aren’t an elf,” Seltivare stammered. “I c-c-can talk to my parents if we need to wait.”
Seltivare internally winced as he imagined how his mother would respond if he told her there would be no immediate ceremony.
“If you’ll have me as your other half, I will honor your customs and have our ceremony. We can take our relationship at a slower pace if you want, but the last thing I want to do is start off our lives together by breaking with thousands of years of tradition.”
“Thank Fate,” Seltivare managed. “My mother would’ve probably exploded if I told her we were waiting. I’m sorry, this is…overwhelming.”
Ashby grinned, and Seltivare went a little weak in the knees. “It is, but I’m glad to have met you.”
“I wanted to find my mate, and I’m glad to have met you too.” Seltivare ducked his head. “You’re very handsome.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you. This is incredible, but I wish my heart wasn’t pounding so hard.”
“It feels like it’s about to shoot right out of my chest.”
“No one adds that to the story when they begin tales about meeting their other halves,” Ashby remarked with a rueful smile.
“Nope. I wish I didn’t have to, but I must get back to work.”
“May I have your phone number first? I’ll give you mine. Please call me so we can make plans for our ceremony.”
They quickly exchanged numbers, and Seltivare waved awkwardly as he rushed out of the garden with his limbs still trembling.
He wished he had the gumption to ask Ashby to pose for a picture, but thankfully, his mind produced a perfect image of the man Fate had brought into his life.
Seltivare had been prepared for meeting his other half—or he thought he had been—but what the hell was he supposed to do next?