Page 38 of The Dragon King’s Claw (The Dragons of Serai #17)

I didn't like it. Didn't like it at all. Too large. Too bright. Too shiny. I scowled at everything I passed—from the polished stone floors to the curious courtiers. The garden had been beautiful, and I was suddenly glad that Tor'rien and I had our first sexual interlude out there.

Because I hated his castle.

Don't tell me hate is a strong word. I know words.

Semantics. Whatever you want to call it, that royal house was too much for me.

I didn't want to live in a place that I could also get lost in.

Granted, the royal apartments were only a section of the castle, but even whittled down to the royal section, Tor'rien's home was enormous.

I didn't like it.

Couldn't work like that.

Too uncomfortable. Can't relax or focus. What to do?

I continued to clutch the satchel to my chest as I looked around the entry room of His Majesty's apartments, which was also his library.

I had an apartment. He had a whole fucking collection of them that sprawled from the tenth to the fifteenth floor of the central castle keep.

In case you're unfamiliar with castles, the keep is merely the middle part.

The big, tall part. Then you have wings that extend out from the keep.

And then the gardens, the courtyard, the stables, the barracks, and, finally, the castle walls to keep out the riffraff. I wished I were one of them.

Venturing out onto the balcony, I continued to scowl.

I stretched my neck to see over the railing.

Yes, of course. There it was. The very nook we had sex in.

The King had a view of it from his balcony.

Did he know that when he chose the spot?

I suspected so. A romantic—that's what he was. His Majesty, the romantic.

Why did that make my scowl twitch?

I sighed and went back into the library. It hadn't bothered me the first time I'd been there, but then again, I knew I was just visiting. Now, I was staying. And I didn't know how long for. No, no, no. Didn't like it.

The King was talking to me. Or at me. Had been for a while.

I was too lost in my head to pay him any heed.

Upon arrival, I noted his guards. I recognized one of them but didn't know his name.

He was on the balcony I had just vacated.

Two more stood just outside the main entrance.

And more had gone to the upper floors. Too many floors for one man. Even for two men.

“Tekhan?”

Ah, that was my name. I'd better respond. The King demanded a response when he spoke to me. “Yes?”

“The dining room is through here, but I've only just ordered our dinner. So, we can get you settled in here or my office. Which would you prefer?”

“Which is smaller?”

He frowned. “Uh, my office.”

“And where is it?”

“Just down the corridor.”

“Perfect. The office it is.”

“Are you all right?” The King asked as he led me down a hallway.

“Yes.”

“You seem upset.”

“I am fine.” I followed him into a room.

The King pulled a light cord, and the space came to life.

Floors of pale wood, cabinets to match, and a white desk carved with trennor birds.

I had expected something dark and regal.

But that wasn't Tor'rien. Well, the regal part, yes, but he wasn't a man who liked darkness.

He craved light, bright colors, and joy.

Why the fuck did he want me?

“You can work at my desk.” The King waved his hand to the expanse of white.

There were only a few items on his desk—a leather blotter, an ink well with a pen, and stacks of papers held down with little objects.

There was more than enough room for me. And even if there hadn't been, I could have made do with the floor.

Or one of the two other tables in the room.

Or the couch. Yes, his office was smaller than the library, but only because the library was enormous.

I set the satchel down on the desk and looked toward the tall windows. Dark out there now. And somewhere in that darkness, Hallaxgral walked unafraid through the city streets. Or perhaps he was inside, tormenting his next victim.

“The clue is in the case,” I murmured.

“You already went over the case, didn't you?” Tor'rien leaned a hip on his desk, removed the files from the satchel, and fanned them out.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you could have missed something?”

“I am not infallible, Your Majesty.”

He looked up at me. “I disagree.”

I snorted. “No, you don't. You're flirting.”

“Yes, and trying to get you to stop scowling.” He took my hand. “I know it's not just the case. What is it, Tekhan? Do you not like my castle?”

He said it in such a way as to imply that the very thought was ridiculous. But I must have twitched, shown a tell, because he blinked.

And then the King straightened out of his lean and gaped at me. “You don't like my castle?”

“It is a perfectly fine construction, I'm sure. Very well made.”

“Holy fuck! You really don't like it. What exactly displeases you, Claw Shinkai? The vast space, the precious artwork, or maybe it's the furniture. Do you dislike the carvings?”

“I don't mean to insult you. Please, don't take it personally.”

“That's rather hard to do since this is my home.”

I looked away.

“Son of a bastard!” the King cursed. “Tell me. What displeases you?”

“Nothing displeases me. How could it? Everything is of the highest quality, as you've just pointed out. I am simply a man of . . .” I shrugged. “I like boundaries.”

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, limitations. Rules. Fences. Walls. Things that confine other things.”

“Oh?” He smirked.

“I did not say bondage. I do not like being physically restrained.”

“I don't understand.”

“No, you don't.” I walked out of the room.

“Tekhan!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the office. “Don't do that. Don't walk away when we're in the middle of a conversation.”

“I was simply moving it to another room, Your Majesty. I know better than to think that you'd let it go just because I went a few paces down the hallway.”

The King chuckled. “Very well. Shall we go into the sitting room?”

“Why not the dining room? Then we'll be where we need to be when the food arrives.”

“So practical.” He shook his head, but he also took my hand and led me to the dining room.

“This is just for you?” I took in the table that stretched the length of the room—big enough to seat ten.

“Yes. Although, I often have guests. This is my entertaining dining room. There is another, smaller version on the twenty-third floor.”

“Of course there is. Why have one place to dine when you can have two?”

“Three actually. There is also the castle dining hall on the bottom floor.”

“Right.”

“Where would you like to sit?”

I sat nearest the door but didn't dare take the chair at the head of the table.

Tor'rien was generous in many ways, but I had a feeling that when it came to certain traditions—those that showed respect for his status—he would demand they be observed.

And, to be honest, I didn't give a shit where I sat.

Tor'rien sighed as he took the seat on the end and it seemed as if he shed the cloak of nobility as he did. “Tekhan, this has greatly upset me. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“Why?”

“Because you'll be here a lot. Possibly . . .”

“Possibly what?”

He shrugged.

“You think I might be your mate?”

“Yes.”

“I don't agree.”

His brows shot up. “Why?”

“We are too different. A poor match.”

“A poor match?” The King laughed brightly. “We are perfectly matched.”

I frowned at him. “I am your opposite. You are lightness and beauty. I am darkness and ugliness.”

He lost his grin. “You are neither dark nor ugly. Why would you say that?”

“I know myself.” I held up a hand when he started to protest. “I know I'm handsome.

I'm saying that compared to you, my nature is dark and my world is ugly. You, however, are surrounded by light.” I waved an arm out to indicate that even in the dining room, where most people paneled their walls in dark wood, the ambiance was bright and cheery, the walls painted a buttercup yellow and the chairs upholstered in gold-threaded tapestry.

“I am not unhappy with my ugly world. In fact, I need to be a claw. Without that—” I shook my head, trying to find the right word, “—outlet, I would go mad.

And that, in itself, says a lot about me.

I admit that I am both fascinated by and drawn to your light.

But it's in the way of a dark, ugly moth to that beautiful flame.

I'm afraid, Your Majesty, that you will consume me until there is nothing left but ash.

And you will not even be aware that you're devouring me. Just like a flame, it is simply your nature to burn.”

The King's expression had sunk deeper and deeper into horror as I spoke.

When I finished, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

He cleared his throat and would have tried again, but that was when a few servants arrived with covered platters.

They set them down, sentencing us to silence while they worked, and then bowed to the King.

“Thank you.” The King cleared his throat. “That's all.”

The staff left, and the King stared at me.

“May I?” I waved at the food.

He nodded.

“Would you like me to serve you?” I asked.

“No,” he whispered. Then he growled, “No, I don't want you to serve me! All you do is serve, Tekhan. Cease. For fuck's sake, take a day off.”

“I serve justice and your law, Your Majesty. I hold them even higher than I hold you.”

“Oh, I know.” His face twitched. “And I also know I need to accept these truths about you. There is no changing you.”

“Ah,” I murmured and focused on the food, my heart sinking.

They always wanted to change me. The difference was—Tor'rien had succeeded.

He just didn't know it. And I wasn't going to tell him.

Because even changed, he didn't like the way I was.

Unsurprising, but hurtful. I had thought he was different.

He said he was. He complimented me all the time.

But now, with my candor, I had given him permission to do the same—be brutally honest.

“Tekhan, I'm sorry I said that.” Tor'rien took my hand, stopping me from scooping up some buttery vegetables. “You must know that I deeply respect you and I adore you just as you are.”

“You just spoke about accepting me and lamented that you couldn't change me.”

“I merely meant that you have beliefs that differ from mine, and I must accept them because I know what kind of man you are. You are steadfast—unshakable in what you believe. I want to be with you, so I must accept the things I disagree with.”

I lifted my stare to his. “You don't have to lie to me. I'm here. I've already conceded.”

“Conceded?” The King puffed out a breath. “Why is it a war between us? Or do you see it as a contest of wills?”

“Neither. What we have is a nebulous thing. Indefinable at the moment, but evolving. I can't classify it yet.”

“Classify? Dear Gods, Tek. It's a relationship. We're lovers. We may become more if the Gods agree with me. And you call it—”

“If the Gods agree with you?” I cut him off, my heart leaping, going from the depths of my belly and right into my throat. I swallowed it back down. “What does that mean?”

Tor'rien softened his expression. “I think you're incredible and, just as I said, I think we are perfectly matched. I would be overjoyed if you became my mate.”

I gaped at him.

His expression twisted into something more smug again, and he took the serving spoon from me to fill my plate. “Eat, my Claw. You need your strength. I fear it will be a long night of both bafflement and revelations for you.”

I looked from my plate—full of the best bits of meat, vegetables, and bread—then at the King. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now, tell me how I can make you more comfortable here.”