Chapter Eight
Galen
I enjoyed humidity as a dragon, but I hated it as a human. The muggy botanical garden made my human sweat glands work overtime. Once we were past the overhanging greenery and into the heart of the domed garden, I ignored my discomfort, focusing instead on the different plant description plaques along the winding paths.
While we walked, Mac told Punky my dilemma, that I wanted to learn about humans without scaring them with strange questions. Instead of offering up his children as interviewers, he led me to a platform high above the main floor. From there, I could see a bench below, where two humans sat holding hands. Their animated faces and voices carried to us, especially when I allowed my ears to flatten and expand against the side of my head like my dragon form.
"I've had the best time getting to know you," the human with short chestnut hair and scruffy beard said to the other.
"Me too," the human with longer hair on their head but no facial hair said, leaning toward the other. "Best six months of my life. I'm so glad I met you."
"I couldn't leave tomorrow without asking you this," the one with the beard said. They slid to their knees on the path before the bench and dug a small box from their pants pocket. "Will you marry me?"
The other human hopped to their feet and clapped. "Oh my god, yes! Yes, Brian, I'll marry you!" They reached down and pulled Brian into their arms, kissing them the way I'd kissed Mac several times now. I felt like I was intruding on something private, but I couldn't look away. I wanted that, with Mac.
Beside me, Punky cleared his throat.
My face burned, and I pulled back from the ledge I'd been leaning on. I turned to Punky. "What is marry?"
"It's like mating. Humans don't have fated mates, so they date and see if they like each other. Sometimes, they choose to cohabitate. If they really like each other, or they're really religious, they get married."
I didn't know what religion had to do with it. If the dragon goddess tried to come between me and Mac, I would simply find another dragon deity to worship.
"If humans don't have fated mates, is it possible we will cease to have them one day?" I asked.
"We?" Punky frowned at me. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Mac doesn't think betas have fated mates, but some do, when they're mated with dragons."
Punky's frown turned to shock. "The priestess never said betas mated with dragons." He squared his shoulders. "It doesn't matter what she said or didn't say. The truth is all alpha and omega kobolds have fated mates. That hasn't changed in the last two centuries we've been mixing genes with humans. If it hasn't changed for us, it shouldn't change for you."
His logic was sound. I only wished I believed him enough to risk the future of dragonkind.
* * *
We stopped at a sorcery shop on the way back to the hotel, but instead of spell components, Mac handed me a bag that smelled like fresh bread. He pushed down on the center of the seatback to create a divide between us. I hated it, but the new furniture contained two reservoirs for the drink cups he carried.
"What kind of sorcerer is a sand witch?" I asked. "Do they make bread from sand?"
Mac stared at me for a moment, and then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.
"It's not funny. Tell me!"
"A sandwich," Mac chuckled again and wiped his eyes. "Gods. Sorry. Sandwiches are food. A burger is a type of sandwich. Instead of grilled meat, these have thin slices of deli meat and all your favorite vegetables. You're going to love it."
"Sandwich," I said, cramming the two words together the same way he did.
He laughed again and nodded, and I had to laugh with him. It was an absurd play on words.
Sandwiches were delicious, I decided when we shared the tiny table in our hotel room. The hotel's touch lamp and strange handset contraption took up most of the surface area. We had little room for our paper-wrapped sandwiches, bags of chips, and drinks. I didn't need room. Once I picked up the meat-and-veggie-filled bread roll, I couldn't put it down.
"There must be sorcery involved," I told Mac when I finished. "Nothing back home tastes this good."
"Now that you can change forms whenever you want, I can bring you sandwiches from the fortress."
"You have these at the fortress?"
He laughed. "Yes."
"Why have I never had one?"
"You didn't like burgers, remember? You hated the bread."
"It was different," I admitted. I thought "hated" was too strong a word. I hadn't spit it out, unlike something called "I'll live." After I had one, I was pretty sure I wouldn't live. The nasty-tasting green thing got stuck between my teeth and I had to spit it out.
"This is wonderful," I said.
"I'm glad you like it." Mac tried to take the paper wrap from me, but it was still covered with lettuce, sprouts, and bits of other vegetables that had fallen while I'd eaten. I picked off every last scrap before I let him have it.
"Try the chips," he said. "You're going to love them."
I pulled at the sides of the bag the same way Mac did, but nothing happened. The bag was filled with air, so I reversed the technique, popping it instead. Pieces of fried potato flew up into my face. I licked them off my lips. Garlic and vinegar. Delicious.
"These taste like the tubers back home," I said.
"They're the closest I've found on Earth," Mac agreed. "I like corn chips, too, but these are my favorite."
When we finished eating, Mac grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door.
"Where are we going?"
"Let's check out this PrideFest everyone is talking about."
After a quick drive on multi-lane roads Mac called freeways, we slowed to a crawl through side streets and finally parked in a strange cave-like structure Mac called a parking garage. It was cool inside, but outside, the moisture in the air made it uncomfortably muggy.
Once again, I was disappointed there were no lions. People milled about in clothes that reminded me of Tuft, the yellow-striped omega who had organized the sports park outside The Spike. He often dressed in bright colors and accessorized them with suspenders, ties, and bowties. He'd even named their children after types of tie knots.
The group of humans in front of us wore nothing but bright colored shorts, suspenders, and bow ties. Others wore beautiful ball gowns and looked like princesses from the animated movies Mac liked to watch.
We walked down the middle of a closed-off road. I was perplexed by the arrangement of temporary dwellings situated on either side. Mac corrected me, saying it was a street, and that these tents would be taken down in a few hours when the street fair ended.
I had a hard time hearing him over the noise coming from a raised platform. Some screeching feedback accompanied a person making strange noises with their mouth. The noise startled me at first. I focused on the warmth of Mac's hand in mine and calmed my racing heart.
"What is that?" I pointed the way he taught me, with my hand instead of a finger.
"A disco cover band, I think?" Mac laughed. "Priestess Alma would love it!"
"Band?"
"It's music," he said.
Music. Dragons could sing, but this was so much more varied and interesting. Humans were good with their hands.
The thought reminded me of how wonderful Mac's hands had felt on me last night. It was probably a good thing dragons didn't have hands. If I'd been able to touch myself like that my whole life, I wouldn't have accomplished much outside my cave.
Not that I'd accomplished much as it was. I had a feeling my paragon would chastise me for letting the kobolds rebuild, among other things.
I grunted, and Mac turned to me with a question in his gaze. I shook my head. That was a problem for the future, if my paragon returned at all.
We walked closer to the stage, what Mac called the raised platform, as we progressed along the row of covered tables and smiling faces trying to talk us into buying their goods. It reminded me of the dragon festivals we had when I was a child, with our relatives from afar hawking the shiny baubles they'd collected on their journeys.
Not all humans sold merchandise. Some wanted us to sign petitions. Others wanted us to buy a membership, and they would give us merchandise in return. After some address confusion, Mac completed a form for me, and I became a proud member of the Human Rights Campaign. I ended up with a tote bag, a t-shirt, and a rainbow heart-covered mug for my hoard.
By the time we reached the stage, I could feel a deep vibration in my chest as sound pounded from the large black boxes positioned on either side. The people on the stage had changed, and now one crooned about celebrating while the crowd bounced to the beat. Mac bobbed with them, a smile on his face.
I didn't have to understand it to enjoy being part of the crowd. I danced to the music, too, and Mac slid his arms around my waist.
"This is fun," he shouted, the only way I could hear him with human ears.
"Yes!"
"Let's look at the offerings on the other side of the street, and then we can find somewhere quiet."
As exciting as this was, quiet sounded better.
At the first table, we had to explain we weren't from the area to another petitioner. I wandered to the next table while Mac explained we wouldn't be able to vote on their bond referendum in November.
I didn't know what a bond referendum was, any more than I knew what the strange harnesses on the next table would do. They wouldn't fit our dire weasels or dragonets, that's for sure.
"Oh, this would look lovely on you." The young man with a metal ball pierced beneath his bottom lip sauntered over to me with a strip of leather with four holes on one side and a metal tongue on the other. "Would you like to try it on, honey?"
"No." Mac's voice was firm behind me. "Thank you," he added belatedly. He draped his arm over my shoulders and dragged me away from the glowering man.
"What is it?" I asked.
"A collar. It means you belong to someone." Mac glared over his shoulder.
"I only belong to you."
I'd hoped it would calm him, but he walked faster, urging me past the remaining tents to the gate. When we reached the van, I pulled my door open, but he pushed it shut again and pinned me against it.
"You don't belong to me," Mac said. "We're partners. Equals."
We were most certainly not equals. I could crush him beneath my foot in my true form. Still, I understood what he meant.
"Partners," I said, choosing the word that best fit us. "Mates."
He dropped his head, and I clasped my fingers behind his neck, still not sure how this was different from grabbing under his chin, like I'd done before. It brought him even closer to me, and I pressed my lips to his.
He shuffled me to the side and opened the door without breaking the kiss, but then he lifted me into the van and shut me inside. I was still panting when he joined me in the driver's seat.
"It's too early to take you to bed," he said. "Also too soon to eat dinner, but there's a lake nearby. Want to take a walk with me?"
I wanted more kissing, but walking sounded fun, too. "Yes."
After a short drive, we parked in the shade of a large grove of trees that bordered the lake on one side. The trees reminded me of the conical evergreens around my cave, but their scent stung my nose. After two deep breaths, I sneezed.
Mac handed me a paper napkin from his pocket. "Are you all right?"
"I think so." Thankfully, we were soon away from the trees and walking toward a structure that reminded me of the dragon pavilion Tuft and his mate Axel had built for me. I ached for home. I wiped at my runny eyes with the napkin, this time for a different reason.
Mac had longer legs than I did in this form. I soon fell behind, and he waited for me in the middle of the bridge. The sun through colored panes of glass painted the walkway in a rainbow. I enjoyed the view as I approached. I needed to stay present and enjoy the moment. There was no reason to go home, anyway. My mate was here with me.
He held his hand out to me, and I slotted our fingers together. I nudged him with my shoulder as I leaned against the railing, matching his posture. Below us, fish shimmered as they swam.
"I wanted to apologize," he said.
"For what?"
"Back there, at the bondage tent. I had no reason to be jealous."
My mind was reeling over "bondage" but then it bounced to, "Jealous?" I'd thought that was the emotion Mac displayed, but I still didn't understand. "Why?"
"That human was hitting on you."
"I don't know what that means. He didn't touch me."
"He wanted to touch you."
Mac started walking again and pulled me with him. He returned to his long strides. I had to take two steps to his one to keep up.
"I don't want to touch him." I didn't know what else to say. I'd already told Mac he was my partner. I gripped his hand tighter, and he slowed. "I only want to touch you."
At the base of the bridge, a concrete path led off into the woods. We followed it to an empty picnic area. I headed for the table, but Mac tugged me toward a bench that overlooked a fast-flowing river.
Some tension seeped from Mac's shoulders as I sat beside him.
"Do dragons mate for life?" he asked.
"Yes. Once we've found our fated mates, that's it for us. If they die, we don't take another mate."
"You'll outlive me," he said. "I don't want you to be lonely."
"I won't outlive you. Remember Olaf?"
He grinned. "Yeah. The old geezer from The Grid."
"He's mated to Bale." My great-grand-something-or-other was one of the oldest living dragons. "A dragon's mating mark extends their mate's life."
"But you said?—"
"Dragons war with each other, and sometimes our mates are killed. Mating marks don't make you immune to fire."
"Oh." He squeezed my hand again. "So I could live as long as you do?"
"That's the plan." I rested my head against his shoulder, and he pulled his hand free of mine to wrap his arm around me. I didn't like our size difference in my human form, but I felt cherished and safe by his side.
I only hoped I could show him how cherished and safe he would be for the rest of our lives.