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Chapter 1

Malric

T he cityscape lit up in a cascade of twinkling lights visible from the window of my office. The breathtaking view was one of the reasons we had settled on this office building a few years ago when the Emberstone clan established our headquarters here. It lost its appeal after staring at it every day. Or maybe it was me who lost my sense of wonder. After hundreds of years of life, it wasn’t uncommon.

The world was ever-moving. I, like many other long-lived dragons, knew that better than anyone. We had seen such change in our long lives. And yet, some pain never dulled with time. I carried it with me like a backpack, weighed down and constantly on my mind. There were days I wondered if we really were the lucky race or if our long life was more of a curse. At least for me.

It had been nearly a hundred years since my mate had passed. A hundred years since I had last seen the chocolate brown of his eyes. A hundred years since I truly lived. And days like today, it felt like a hundred years longer than I should’ve.

It hadn’t been a sudden thing. People tried to comfort me, telling me it was better that way because I had time to say good-bye, that that somehow made it somehow easier. But I wasn’t so sure that if I had a choice, I’d have picked our route. The long, drawn-out illness allowed him to settle his affairs, but at what price? His last time on earth had been torture. Maybe a quick demise would’ve been kinder to all of us. Not that it was a choice.

I was thankful for the time we had together. We had two perfect clutches, although even those were wrought with loss. Three sons born alive, while one had failed to hatch. His innocent life cut short before it could even begin. He deserved so much better.

Now, a hundred years later, I was dedicated to my work. Work didn’t get sick. Work didn’t die. Work didn’t leave.

Our children were all grown, and one already had a family of their own. They were living the lives they had carved out for themselves, and I was happy for them. But they carried their loss too. Losing a parent wasn’t easy, no matter how old you were when it happened.

And I had the clan—which had somehow selected me as their leader. If Chastain could see me now… I could just about hear his laugh.

“Clan Leader Malric? Seriously? The same dragon who had once caught the village square on fire, causing the whole clan to have to move else we’d be hunted down by dragon hunters?”

In my little fantasy where Chastain was still here, he’d roll those beautiful eyes of his and shake his head.

But he wasn’t here anymore. I was, and part of my job was keeping young dragons in line. I suppose the clan’s logic was that I did all the reckless things in my youth, so I’d know how to help them avoid doing the same. They might not think that if they knew all that I’d gotten away with. What I’d been caught doing was only the tip of the iceberg.

I was lucky. In my youth, we didn’t have cell phones or cameras. For a scandal to be made public, it had to be witnessed. And even then, witnesses could be negotiated with. Young dragons now had to deal with screenshots, videos, and audio recordings. There was no way I’d have gotten away with even half the things I did if we’d had that technology. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d done so without it.

By some miracle, I hadn’t been caught with the big things. The only time I came close was when I’d accidentally caught the village on fire, and even with that, there were only rumors. In my youth, I thought it would be a great way to impress Chastain. It very much wasn’t.

“Dad, what are you still doing here?”

I turned to find my son, Tavian, standing in the doorway of my office.

“Me? What are you doing here?” It was far too late for him to still be working, especially with little ones at home.

Tavian’s tie was loosened, his jacket unbuttoned. He looked tired. I checked my watch to see just how late it had gotten—sure, I could use my cell phone to tell the time, but I preferred the old-style wristwatch that worked on batteries. It didn’t need to be charged. Sure, batteries could die, but not daily. I used to stick with the wind-up ones, but I had a bad habit of overwinding it

“I had some briefs to work through,” he said, “and I thought it would be easier to get it done here. Kier agreed that I wasn’t getting anything done at home and sent me to the office. I’m about to head home, though.” He had a good mate, one who looked out for him.

“Good, that’s good.” I turned back to the window.

“Is everything all right?” I heard the pity in his voice now more than ever. Since finding his own mate had opened his eyes to what it was like to be complete. He now had a hint of what my loss had been like and feared I was lonely. I was, but I had been that way for a long time. I was used to it.

“Yes,” I said. “Everything’s fine.” When had fine ever been the truth?

I pasted on a smile—one I was used to wearing like a piece of armor. I’d gotten so used to using it, I wasn’t sure I knew how a real smile felt anymore. Everything was fine, as long as I didn’t let the loneliness seep in. I was well-practiced at that. My sons never needed to know just how much I felt alone.

“Kier and I were talking about getting a manny to help with the dragonets.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. They were amazing parents, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t use a helping hand.

“How did you and Dad manage to have two clutches without the help?”

I chuckled. “We were smart enough to take time off work. Which is why I offered both you and Kier a year sabbatical after your clutch hatched. You decided not to take it.” And even at that, it had been chaos—beautiful, beautiful chaos. I wouldn’t have traded a second of it.

“We both enjoy our work. We like working for the clan. But it does make this difficult, especially with three of them.”

“Indeed. A manny will help to give the children some consistency and take some load off you two. If there’s anything I can do to help—”

“You do enough. You visit regularly. The children adore their Pop-Pop, and I don’t want you to have to be a babysitter. I want you to enjoy being a grandpa.”

I appreciated that. I knew too many grandparents who became de facto babysitters, and while they loved it, it was a very different role than being the fun, spoil them all the time, grandmother or grandfather.

“Oh, I do. Trust me.” My grandchildren were the light of my world. I couldn’t wait for my other sons to find their mates and give me more of them if that was what their hearts desired. There was something magical about seeing the world through the eyes of a child.

Tavian’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he could see through the facade I put on. I moved to my desk, closing my laptop and gathering some papers, trying to distract from that moment vulnerability I’d accidentally shared. He didn’t need to be worried about me.

“Well, if you’re going home, I might as well go, too.”

“Perfect. I’ll walk out with you. We have interviews in the next couple of days. I’ll send the profiles over so you can look them over.” My son still wanted my opinion, and I valued that respect more than he could know.

“I’d appreciate that. Not that I need to be informed, but it wouldn’t hurt.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Kier and I would appreciate your opinion. You know the kids as well as we do. Plus, you are well-practiced at hiring people.”

Indeed I was. “Thanks, Son. How are my perfect grandchildren?”

Tavian grinned, then launched into the most recent silliness my grandchildren had gotten up to. The three of them had reached a year old and were on the move now. The only way to keep them contained was with a gate, and even that wouldn’t hold them for long. They were curious and weren’t going to let anything stop them— a fact that filled me with both pride and fear.

As long as I filled my heart with these kinds of stories—memories with my grandkids and my family—the loneliness couldn’t take up too much space.