Page 9 of D’Vaire or Nothing (D’Vaire #44)

S eristyn Gennevios didn’t bother to hide his smile.

From the second his feet had crossed the threshold into the King of Clubs restaurant a mere three minutes ago, the host had fussed over the man at Seristyn’s side.

There was a flush in Henry Gennevios’s cheeks, and it deepened the rich cobalt blue of his eyes.

Despite being a renowned chef, Henry blushed whenever anyone made him the center of attention with compliments.

It was such a good look on Henry that Seristyn made it his mission to smother his mate with sincere odes to his beauty, loving heart, and incredible prowess in the kitchen. Seristyn found him equally impressive in the bedroom but tried to save those comments for private moments.

Mostly.

“Mr. Gennevios, is there a table you prefer?” the host asked, waving his hand toward the busy restaurant.

“Please, put us where it is most convenient,” Henry insisted, grabbing Seristyn’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Of course, please follow me,” the host replied, snatching menus from behind him and scurrying off to the left.

In a black three-piece suit, cornflower blue shirt, and a tie in an elegant floral, Henry led Seristyn through the crowd as they struggled to keep pace with the nervous host. Moments later, Seristyn settled across the table from the enchanter he loved, and their eyes met.

“The low light in here suits you, Hen.”

“You flatter me, mon chéri . Take a look at the menu; you will find the chef included more than one elven option.”

Elves were biologically forced to eat a diet of mostly fruits and vegetables, and although Seristyn was a hybrid of elf and griffin shifter, he remained unable to digest meat.

The excess protein required for him to shift was added as a powder to his meals by the dynamic, talented man with his serious gaze trained on the menu.

Henry had made it his mission to take care of Seristyn from the day they met.

Seristyn was grateful to have such a wonderful partner and did his best to lavish Henry with the same level of devotion.

It was an easy task; Henry was easy to love and a delight to spoil.

Every gift and compliment brought a rush of color to his cheeks—the same way great sex made him flush.

“Is something wrong?”

“What?”

“You have not even glanced at your menu. Are you feeling unwell?” Henry asked, his gaze filling with concern.

“No, I was thinking about how wonderful you are. I guess I forgot that I had to decide what I want to eat before our server arrives.”

As if Seristyn had summoned him, their server walked up to their table.

He introduced himself as Ayven and gushed over Henry, who owned nearly a hundred restaurants and had dozens of published cookbooks and several lines of merchandise.

While both men were distracted, Seristyn read the elven options on the menu and smiled.

They both sounded delicious; Henry had done an excellent job of hiring the chef.

“ S’il vous pla?t . Please,” Henry said. “It is I who am honored to be invited here this weekend and to be dining in this gorgeous restaurant. Every item on the menu sounds delicious.”

Ayven pulled himself together and asked for their drink order. Henry chose a bottle of wine for the table, and the man scuttled off.

Henry reached up and fiddled with his already perfectly straight tie as he muttered under his breath in French. Since they’d met, Seristyn had become well-versed in Henry’s first language, but the enchanter was speaking too low for him to hear his words.

“Hen? Are you okay?”

“ Non . I did not expect such a fuss. It is unnecessary. I have done nothing but hire a well-deserving chef and answer a few questions she had of me.”

“Even if you didn’t have anything to do with this restaurant, people tend to fuss when you show up for dinner.”

“I will never grow used to it.”

“The price of fame, my Hen.”

“You dance on a stage for thousands of people a year; you are the one who should be smothered with attention.”

Seristyn laughed. “I’m just a dancer.”

“A beautiful graceful dancer who works hard six days a week, testing the limits of his body. You deserve more praise.”

“I get plenty of praise from the person I want it from. That’s you.”

Their server arrived with their wine and was still so flustered that he shook violently as he poured some for Henry to taste. Henry assured him it was delightful, and Ayven stalked off. He reappeared seconds later and sheepishly apologized for forgetting to take their dinner orders.

“It is perfectly fine,” Henry assured Ayven, whose face was a mottled scarlet. “Tonight is overwhelming, no? Your first evening opened and you’re asked to serve numerous Council leaders and the many other titled people connected to the D’Vaire family.”

The man’s grin was relieved. “Yes, I’m so nervous. Chef also told us you would be here and that we needed to ensure your dining experience was perfect.”

“The next time you are in the kitchen, tell Chef I mentioned that the service is unmatched.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gennevios,” Ayven replied and took their orders. His gait was far less rushed as he scooted away to attend to his duties.

“I love your kindness, Hen.”

“Would you like to make a toast with me, mon chéri ?”

“ Absolument ,” Seristyn replied in his love’s native French as he lifted his goblet.

“ à l’amour . To love.”

Seristyn tapped his glass to Henry’s and sipped the delicious wine without breaking eye contact with the man he adored.

“Hen?”

“ Oui? ”

“ Je t’aime .”

“ Je t’aime aussi. Pour toujours .”

∞∞∞

The ruler of the Circle of Druids frowned as he walked out of the King of Clubs restaurant. Killian was so irritated that he didn’t notice he was alone until he turned the corner.

“Hey, Killer, you want to wait for me?” Dravyn called out as he stalked to Killian’s side.

Killian held out a hand for Dravyn to take and rose up to kiss him the second he was in reach. “Sorry, Dragon Boy.”

“Why are you upset? Our food was delicious, and we have an entire weekend to enjoy ourselves at this resort.”

Feeling foolish, Killian’s gaze landed on the shoes crafted out of dragon scales Dravyn had shed. “You’re right, I’m being an idiot.”

“Please tell me you aren’t pissed about having to wear shoes.”

“Get mad if you want, but these damn things are annoying.”

“Well, no one wants your dirty-ass feet on all the new floors and carpet in here.”

Killian glared. “I’m a druid. Dirt doesn’t stick to my feet. Which you already know.”

“Civilized people wear footwear when they leave the house.”

“Why would I want to be civilized?”

“You’re impossible; do you want to go to the garden again or not?” Dravyn demanded, the deep forest green of his gaze telling Killian that the dragon shifter wasn’t going to listen to another complaint about society’s unreasonable request that he wear shoes in public.

“Yeah, let’s go to the garden.”

Although Killian and Dravyn had been tasked with creating unique flora for the resort and included in the plans for laying out the garden, neither man tired of seeing the results of their labor.

It’d taken months to craft delicate petals bearing the four different suits commonly found in card decks in North America.

The process had proven far more difficult than Killian or Dravyn had expected, but they loved working together. And they thrived on tough projects.

“Did you enjoy your steak?” Killian asked as they cut through the casino to get to the center of the resort where the garden rested.

Ellery had kept the final design a secret, and Killian was impressed by his efforts.

It was one of the finest gardens he’d ever had the privilege to view, and thanks to Killian’s role as leader of the druids, he and Dravyn were often surrounded by flowers and plants.

“You asked me that in the restaurant.”

“You were too busy stuffing your face to answer the question, Dray.”

“Kind of answers your question though, if I’m enjoying it that thoroughly.”

“Use your words.”

“Why am I so turned on by prickly druids who hate shoes?”

“Oh please, I’m one of a kind and we both know it.”

Dravyn stopped their forward progress when he halted in his tracks to study Killian’s face. They’d been together for many years, but there remained moments when it was hard to read what was going on in Dravyn’s crafty mind.

“The lone neutral druid on the planet picked by Fate to rule his people with power so vast the gold flecks in his eyes glow faintly. Yep, you’re definitely unique.”

“I feel like I should point out here that it is my family that was picked by Fate, so if I were to have a child, they would also be a Dwyer.”

“Are you planning on having children, Killer?”

Killian grinned and kissed Dravyn’s cheek. “Imagine how cute it’d be to chase after a little one.”

“Considering that something as simple as wearing shoes is problematic for you, I’d probably wind up doing all the parenting.”

“You’d be great at it. There is nothing you love more than taking a little plant and nurturing it so it grows big and strong.”

“Do you understand how the whole parenting thing works? You can’t dump water on a kid’s head, stick them in the sunshine, and expect them to grow.”

“No? Then I’m probably not father material. You are though.”

“I’m not raising your kids for you. Mates are supposed to be equals. Partners. Not you telling me what to do and expecting me to handle all your shit.”

A vision of Dravyn the previous night with his muscular ass in the air on top of the dragonskin throw Killian loved to fuck his mate on flashed into his brain. Killian laid a hand on his belly as it flopped pleasantly with arousal.

“Sometimes you like it when I boss you around,” Killian murmured.

Dravyn’s dark gaze cut to Killian, and his mouth twisted as he figured out from Killian’s tone when the dragon shifter preferred to take orders. A heartbeat later, Dravyn smiled as pink suffused his cheeks, making his lovely freckles more prominent.

“That’s different.”

“And so fucking perfect.”

“I think we should sneak home as soon as we’re ready to go to bed so we can sleep outside,” Dravyn suggested.

“That stupid security system the gargoyles gave Brogan will alert him the second I teleport us to our deck.”

With a shrug of one broad shoulder, Dravyn pulled his phone from his trousers. “I’ll text him to let him know our plans. But I’ll include Dra’Kaedan, Aleksander, and Rafe too. I’m a Duke, he can’t insist I stay here.”

“Yeah, let me know how that works out.”

Dravyn forced them to come to a standstill at the entrance of the sprawling garden so he could compose his text message.

It would be nice to sleep under the stars, but Killian didn’t want to start a war with Brogan or ruin the Grand Duke’s weekend by making the man worry either.

A few days in a hotel wouldn’t kill him or Dravyn.

When Killian’s phone beeped, he cursed and yanked his phone out.

“Why did you include me?” Killian asked as he read the lengthy text Dravyn had sent.

No one could accuse his other half of skimping on details.

Within seconds, there was a response from Rafe encouraging them to have a wonderful night at D’Vaire.

Killian’s black brows flew up as Brogan sent the next message, begging them not to bring anyone else home with them without letting him know.

“Of course we aren’t bringing anyone else,” Dravyn muttered. “I can finally yell as loud as I want without worrying that someone will hear us making love outside.”

Killian released Dravyn’s hand to grab his arm. “Dray. We’ll be there by ourselves. Forget the bed. I want you in our garden.”

Dravyn’s smile was bashful but tender. “I was already thinking we should start there.”

Without hesitation, Killian tugged Dravyn into his arms and took his mouth in a searing kiss.

Dravyn melted against him, and Killian was ready to leave the royal garden in the resort to romp in his own flora with his gorgeous dragon.

That thought in mind, Killian summoned a wisp of magic and, with his lips still sealed to Dravyn’s, teleported them home.

They sank to their knees in the dirt, and Killian forgot anything existed except for Dravyn. As far as Killian was concerned, it was the best way to spend a weekend.