Page 6 of D’Vaire or Nothing (D’Vaire #44)
“M itch, are you going to be pissed off about it all night?” asked Master Juris Knight Pierson Brooks-Murphy.
The calming scent of lavender and vanilla surrounded Pierson’s mate, but there was nothing tranquil in his changeable blue gaze. Despite the delicious and romantic meal they’d shared in the King of Clubs, Mitchell was livid.
“What I can’t figure out is why you aren’t angry about it,” Mitchell replied.
“While I would’ve preferred to use our funds for our meals, I understand the reason the Emperors aren’t allowing us to pay for anything this weekend is because they value the way we have served them and appreciate our friendship.”
“Friendship is free, Blondie.”
Pierson snagged Mitchell’s hand and pulled him to a stop a few feet from the restaurant where the only money that had been welcome was the generous tip they’d given their server.
“That’s true, but when people care about each other, they do nice things for them.”
“Yeah, but this is too generous. Did you hear the hotel manager? We can’t even pay for shit in the gift shop.”
“So what? We’re here for a couple of days. Our condo is down the street. If we need anything, we can teleport home and grab it. Or pop into a store outside the resort.”
Mitchell’s lower lip slid out in an uncharacteristic pout. “I wanted to spoil you this weekend and buy you whatever you wanted. We rarely take time off. I was going to take advantage of having your full attention.”
“Tuck that fantasy away; there are some files I need to review before Tuesday morning.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t working at all,” Mitchell replied. Then he laughed. “What is wrong with us that we both packed work for one of the few weekends we’ve reserved for fun?”
“It’s part of being a fallen knight. Or at least a Juris Knight. We’re chronically overworked, and we love it that way.”
“But I still can’t spoil you.”
Pierson rolled his eyes. “What were you going to do…buy me a refrigerator magnet in the gift shop?”
“Or maybe a mug with your name on it.”
“We have an entire cabinet full of coffee mugs.”
“I’m sure we can find some space in the kitchen for more mugs if you see something you like.”
“Mitch, don’t fuck up my kitchen.”
“If I do, will you challenge me to some hand-to-hand so I can toss you onto a mat and have my wicked way with you?”
“Why would I sign up to be tortured? If you want me under you, it wouldn’t hurt you to try some romance. That’s a lot nicer than fucking up my favorite room in our house.”
“What the fuck, Blondie? Favorite room? Shouldn’t that be the bedroom with the silk sheets where I make your every dream come true?”
“I’ve diligently organized my kitchen. You decorated the bedroom. If we’re discussing my favorite object, then, of course, that is our bed. But in terms of my preferred space, that’s my kitchen.”
Mitchell dropped Pierson’s hand and grabbed his face in his hands. After flashing his killer grin, he sealed their mouths together, and Pierson surrendered willingly as Mitchell’s tongue dipped between his lips. He rested his palms on Mitchell’s arms and sighed happily into their embrace.
Pierson rarely took time for himself, but he’d prioritized every moment with Mitchell.
However, they had busy lives, and it wasn’t often that they set everything aside to focus on nothing but each other.
At least not for an entire weekend. To Pierson, that was the far greater gift the Emperors had given them that weekend—not the blank check they’d been given at the resort.
“I love you,” Mitchell whispered as he tugged Pierson close for a tight hug.
“I love you too. Are you done being mad?”
“I don’t want to be, but I guess I have to get over it.”
“We could always track down the Emperors and demand they let us pay for shit,” Pierson suggested.
“Is there a law against us giving our opinions to the Emperors?”
“While you don’t have every law memorized, you already know the answer to that question is no.”
“Given your expertise in laws and your knowledge of how new ones are written by our government, what is the likelihood of the Emperors adding a petition for the rulers of our Council to vote upon making it illegal for us to reject their gifts?”
“Since they aren’t petty like you, I think the likelihood isn’t that strong,” Pierson said.
Mitchell brushed their lips together, then dropped his hold on Pierson to take his hand again. “Do you think Drystan and Conley would fire us if we took our complaints to the Emperors?”
“I suppose we could ask them, but I don’t want to interrupt their weekend to discuss your inability to accept a gift from the Fate-chosen leaders of the dragons.”
“I’m not a dragon,” Mitchell remarked with a shrug.
“Obviously not, but the dragon Emperor was selected to the lead the Council of Sorcery and Shifters in 1807 by the Arch Lich, who oversaw the government at that time following the deaths of the previous Grand Warlock and Grand Summoner. Like every fallen knight, Chander resurrected us and our Fate-chosen rulers. So, one could reasonably argue that Fate had a hand in dictating who we answer to and that we should honor their decisions.”
“Sometimes it’s incredibly annoying to have a mate smarter than me.”
Pierson cracked a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it someday.”
“Well, if I’m expected to accept this generous gift, I vote we make the most of it and go shopping.”
“A minute ago, you were ready to track down the Emperors to argue about your inability to pay for your dinner, and now you want to run up a tab on their dime?”
“I’m not in the habit of being extravagant, but you pointed out that this is basically Fate’s choice for us. If Fate wants me to buy a bunch of shit, who am I to argue with a goddess?”
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the crux of my argument.”
“Whatever, Blondie, let’s shop.”
Since it wasn’t likely that Mitchell would find anything to splurge on whether it was his money or not, Pierson didn’t object to moving away from their little spot a few feet from the restaurant.
He refused to glance around to see if any of their friends in the vast D’Vaire clan were staring at the pair and wondering why the hell they were having such a private conversation outside a swanky dining spot.
They walked past a small shop that carried a variety of essentials, and Pierson spotted Arvandus and Albrecht buying what appeared to be a couple of candy bars.
The pair had left the restaurant not long before Mitchell and Pierson, so he couldn’t imagine they were hungry, but who was he to judge their need for sugary treats?
“Why didn’t they just get dessert?” Mitchell murmured.
“Who? Arvandus and Albie?”
“Yeah, as good as dinner was, I’m sure they had delicious options.”
“Which we didn’t sample because we stuffed ourselves with too much dinner.”
“We’ll go back tomorrow and save some room for dessert.”
“We can if you’re not going to protest about our inability to pay.”
“Blondie, I told you I’ve embraced this whole being pampered thing the Emperors are doing for us this weekend. Hey, is there a place here we can get massages? We should do a couples thing.”
“It’s dangerous to be in a room with you without my clothes, despite the presence of any strangers nearby.”
Mitchell laughed evilly. “Live on the edge, Pierce.”
“Fine. If they have a place and can squeeze us in, we can get a massage. But you better pay attention so you can rub me down at home.”
“Even if I don’t pay attention, I’m still willing to massage any part of you whenever you want.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Pierson muttered.
“Need any shoes?”
“Shoes?”
“Yeah, Blondie. They go on your feet. There is a shoe store up ahead.”
“I wear a uniform most of the time, which means I’m in boots or dress shoes. At home, I prefer to be barefoot.”
“I don’t have a fetish or anything, but you have surprisingly sexy feet.”
“Okay, I don’t have a clue how to respond to that.”
Mitchell smiled winningly. “Obviously, this is where you compliment my feet.”
“I’ll go into the shoe store with you if we can move past this inane conversation.”
“Now you’re hurting my feelings.”
With an epic eyeroll, Pierson allowed himself to be dragged into the shoe store and immediately noticed that he and Mitchell weren’t the lone Juris Knights in the establishment.
“Toby, it’s our bosses,” Juris Knight Jackson Licitra hissed. “Quickly. Scatter before they spot us.”
“This is why you aren’t capable of being a regular fallen knight, Licitra,” Mitchell drawled. “Clearly, I can see you, and we’re close enough to hear you too. You lack subtlety and probably survival instincts as well.”
Jackson cocked his head and glared. “For your information, I’m a Juris Knight because I’m incredibly intelligent. So is Toby.”
Juris Knight Tobias Patterson-Kinsler was the first—and thus far, only—fallen knight to make the leap from a tranquilizer gun-toting street officer to the select group of men and women who studied case law, argued in front of judges, and made difficult decisions about guilt and innocence.
Pierson was thankful that Toby had agreed to sign on to a pilot program inspired by him to aid fallen knights with testing difficulties.
Toby’s dedication and willingness to speak openly about his problems had allowed them to create an environment where fallen knights like him could take their tests without anxiety overwhelming them.
His scores had eventually earned him his role as a Juris Knight, and Pierson enjoyed working with the sweet, often shy man.
“Toby is,” Mitchell agreed. “I don’t know about you. There’s a chance your scores were swapped with someone else’s.”
Jackson pursed his lips. “Someone should do their homework and realize that my test scores were higher than yours, Master Juris Knight.”
“Why is Licitra our friend?” Mitchell asked Pierson.
“I blame you. Before we became Master Juris Knights, I didn’t have friends. You did. So that makes Jackson’s presence in our lives your fault.”
“To think I was about to point out that Mitchell got his title because he’s sleeping with the most talented Juris Knight ever resurrected,” Jackson muttered. “I take it back. You two deserve each other.”
“He’s so getting a giant workload on Tuesday morning,” Mitchell said.
“I’d say don’t threaten me with a good time, but I already have too much work to do as it is,” Jackson remarked. “Now, go away so Toby can lecture me on why I don’t need another pair of boots.”
“If you want to buy them, I’m not going to stop you,” Toby commented, his grin lighting up his blue gaze.
“Where’s Gentry?” Mitchell asked Toby. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with your mate than Licitra?”
“I don’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings, but yeah, I always want to be with Gentry,” Toby said. “Gentry and our friends are heading to Hearts bar. Jack wanted to pop in here to check out the shoes, then we’re meeting up with everyone else.”
“So, your compulsive need to add to your already extravagant shoe collection is separating Toby from his other half,” Mitchell remarked.
“Good point,” Jackson said, snagging a box from the shelf behind him. “The longer I dither over whether I want these boots—which I clearly do—the longer I’m keeping Toby from Gentry. In the interest of my desire to honor matebonds, I’ll quickly buy these and dash to the bar with Toby.”
To Pierson’s surprise, Mitchell tugged the box from Jackson and took off to the clerk before anyone could open their mouths to stop him.
“My boss can’t buy me boots,” Jackson wailed.
“Um, here’s the thing,” Pierson said. “The hotel staff informed Mitch and I that the Emperors aren’t allowing us to spend any money in the resort. They have comped everything.”
Jackson’s mouth fell open. “Go get your mate. I can’t have the Emperors buying me boots!”
Since the transaction required nothing of Pierson’s mate, Mitchell returned shortly and handed Jackson a bag with the shoe store’s name emblazoned on the side.
“You’re welcome,” Mitchell said as he grabbed Pierson’s hand.
“That was both dastardly and generous of you,” Pierson told his other half.
Mitchell waggled his dark brows. “Did it turn you on, Blondie?”
“Pay attention to me,” Jackson demanded. “Take these boots.”
“Not my size. Enjoy your weekend, gentlemen. If you find some shoes, Toby, let me know. I’d be happy to buy them for you,” Mitchell called out as he led Pierson out of the shop.
Behind them, Pierson heard Jackson sputter, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“At least we can use this power the Emperors gave us for good and be generous with our Juris Knights,” Pierson mused.
“No fallen knight has a high enough salary. It’s the least I can do. But seriously, can I take you upstairs and strip you now?”
“The bed doesn’t have silk sheets, but we likely owe it to the Emperors to test out the bounciness of the mattress in their new resort.”
Mitchell picked up speed, and Pierson soon found himself in front of an elevator.
A warm hand patted his ass as the doors swooshed open.
Pierson tugged Mitchell into the elevator and slipped his arms around his neck.
Their kiss was sweet with an edge of passion.
Their weekend was off to a fantastic start.