“Yeah, okay… maybe I’m a little luckier than other people. Still, that’s no proof I’m a witch.”

  “Can you see things that aren’t there? Glimmering spells no one else sees but you? Can you sense the power of others? Is my power crackling over your skin right now?”

  Hart froze. Just two weeks before, he’d seen something glittering over that shack in Florida—the morning after they’d been there while it was a hole in the wall bar. When they’d arrived the next day, it had looked long empty.

  Hart had been the only one to see there was something odd—as if a spell had been covering what was underneath.

  The king smiled. “So you’ve seen magic and recognized it in your world. You can see it because you’re a witch. You can prevent them from wiping your memory because you have a power.”

  “I’m not trying to fight them. I did nothing.”

  “Oh, I doubt you are doing anything—knowingly,” the king said. “Your power is quite raw and untrained.” He turned to Eilam. “So raw you couldn’t sense it.”

  Hart stared blankly, shocked by the turn of events.

  “I’d guess your concern for your friend Reese made your mental barriers automatically go up. Some little part of you knew you needed to remember, so remember you did.”

  “I could learn to use this… power?” he asked cautiously. A part of him didn’t want to believe what the king said, but another part of him sensed the truth in the man’s words. He’d always sensed things others hadn’t.

  He’d researched the team’s hunts because he somehow seemed to be able to easily wade through the bullshit and find true places where the haunts and sightings seemed more real.

  “Yes, you could be trained to use your power. Of course, at this late age, it will be harder for you to control. Most witches are trained from their youth.” The king smiled. “You could remain here for a while and see what Midnight has to offer.”

  “And I could come and go as I pleased?” Just the little glimpse of the city he’d seen in the short time he’d been there made him curious. “And if I decided I wanted to leave—I could go?”

  “Of course. You’re one of us. You belong here and have rights to come and go. Once you received your proper paperwork, which would take a few weeks,” the king said, smiling. “That paperwork would allow you to easily come and go through the transit authority.”

  “And my friends? The ones that were kicked out?”

  The king frowned. “What of them?”

  “Reese is a mate. You say I’m a witch and belong here. What if they belong here, too?” He knew how amazed the trio would be to see Midnight. And it would give him a buffer between him and the two men staring holes through his back right now.

  “I will consider it,” the king said. “Until you leave—consider yourself my guest. You can remain here at my castle until you decide what happens next.”

  Hart chuckled slightly. “Stay here? At the castle?”

  “I assume it is the safest place for you, considering a dragon and a lion were both here arguing their claim on you as theirs. Not only are you a witch, but a shifter mate,” the king said.

  Hart looked over his shoulder at the pair before looking at the king.

  “You can stay here at the castle—it sounds like we’ll have some entertainment as the two of them battle it out for your hand.” The king smiled wickedly. “How exciting.”

  Hart sighed.

  Maybe I should just go home.

  Chapter Six

  Soon after his meeting with the king, Hart was shown into a luxurious suite, gilded and well appointed. It was so far away from anywhere he’d laid his head down.

  “I am Charles, the castle steward. I’ll be sending a footman to serve as your personal valet while you remain here at the castle,” the liveried servant who’d shown him to his room said from just inside the door. “If you have any problems or have need of anything, just ask for me.”

  “Thank you,” Hart said.

  “You’re very welcome, sire.” The steward bowed before turning to leave.

  Hart roamed the gilded room, looking at all the decorations. It wasn’t his taste—at all. But the humongous bed looked soft. He took a running leap and landed on what felt like a cloud.

  “Ahhhh,” he moaned. While he appreciated Eilam’s hospitality the night before, the man’s guest bed was hard as a rock. He laid there a moment, still awestruck by the room, particularly the artwork painted onto the ceiling, which had to be at least fifteen feet above.

  The room was more museum than a bedroom.

  A knock came at the door. He sat up in the bed. It was likely someone to take him to the room he really belonged in—a little cell of a room in the back of the castle. “Yes?”

  Another liveried man entered, much younger than the steward. “Hello, sire. I’m Alfie. I’ll be your valet while you’re here.”

  “What exactly does a valet do?”

  “I will help you dress each day, keep up with your appointments, and aid you throughout the day with whatever tasks I can.”

  “Ah. I’ve been doing all those things for myself most of my adult life.”

  Alfie smiled. “Things are done a bit differently here in the castle.”

  “I see that.”

  “Can I have bath drawn for you, sire?”

  “Ahh… no. I can draw my own bath. Thanks.”

  “Dinner will be at seven. Dress is formal. The armoire is already filled with clothing of your size, I’ve been told. The king is in a fine mood today, but that could easily change with tardiness to the table.”

  “Is that a hint that I need to get a move on?”

  Alfie grinned. “Yes, sire.”

  “You can call me Hart.”

  “I couldn’t, sire. It’s frowned upon.” Alfie walked toward the large armoire. “While you bathe, I can get your outfit prepared for dinner.”

  “Great,” Hart said, unused to having someone waiting on him. He rose from the bed and headed toward the wide double doors. Beyond them was a huge bathroom fitted with everything he could need and more.

  He shut the doors and began stripping off his clothes. When he moved to the shower, he saw more buttons and pulls than he even knew what to do with. After turning several on and not getting water, he had to admit defeat.

  Hart wrapped a towel around his waist and called Alfie over.

  “Looks like I need help figuring out how to use the shower.”

  Alfie smiled. “It would be my pleasure, sire.”

  * * * *

  Solomon watched from a distance as Hart traversed the long winding staircase. Descending to join everyone for dinner, the human looked anxious. Why wouldn’t he be? He’d just found out he had magical powers, was welcome to live in Midnight, been made a guest of the king, and then forced to face the royal court at dinner—all in the matter of a few hours.

  Hart’s world was flipping upside down, and Solomon wanted to be there to be a shoulder for his human.

  But pushing himself into the equation would overwhelm an already overwhelmed man.

  No matter how much he wanted Hart, he needed to stand back. There were only two reasons he’d come to dinner that night. One, the king had commanded his presence, and two—he wanted to make sure Garret kept his distance.

  But now seeing Hart cleaned up and in a tuxedo, it was making his inner dragon simmer. Tonight was going to be difficult. Past difficult.

  Already his body was rock hard and ready to claim what was his.

  While most shifters felt an intense need to mate—dragon shifters were known for their possessiveness and determination.

  Yet, that kiss he’d shared with Garret still lingered in the back of his mind. He didn’t understand it, or the pull he’d always felt toward the lion.

  If Hart was truly his, why was his mind flashing between the human and the lion?

  A trumpet sounded, announcing the arrival of the king. Several members of the royal court led the parade down the winding stone stairs. Near the back was the king. Instead of wearing a tuxedo, as most of the other men wore—His Majesty wore a fine tunic and doublet with hose covering his lean legs.

  Even though his beautiful face belied his age, the king was not old enough to have lived in the times where doublets, tunics, and hose were in fashion.

  Solomon remembered the style well. The king’s outfit wasn’t completely historically accurate, but it wasn’t too far off. If he was correct, the king was somewhere in his sixties… perhaps a bit older… but it was hard to tell when the fae-looking warlock didn’t look much older than a twenty-something.

  Age was very hard to read in Midnight. Most shifters aged slowly, some more than others.

  Behind the king strode two guardsmen, both wearing their traditional golden armor. Solomon knew one of those two was Garret.

  The magical armor clung to Garret’s strong body, outlining his muscular form with perfection. The armor made no noise, not like the medieval knights it was fashioned after. Solomon had held a piece of it in his hands once—the metal was somehow lighter than air.

  “He looks good in his armor, doesn’t he?”

  Solomon looked to the side to see Eilam watching him. “I was looking at our king.”

  Eilam chuckled. “No. You weren’t.” The man turned to stare in the same direction as Solomon.

  “Why were you watching me when your own mate was coming down the stairs?” Solomon asked. Rumors had been spreading through the city that the king was Eilam’s mate.

  Eilam’s jaw clenched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Solomon smiled to himself. “See—we all have lies we tell ourselves to make it through the day. Leave me to mine and I’ll leave you to yours.”

  “That won’t change the fact that you and Garretson are at each other’s throats, demanding the chance to win your mate.”

  “And your point?”

  “Dragons aren’t known for their skills at sharing… but perhaps you could gain more if you tried it.”

  Solomon continued to stare at Garret another moment. He turned his stare to see Hart in the crowd, watching him from afar.

  “You’re right. Dragons don’t share.” He walked away, his earlier thoughts on keeping his distance tonight changed. Solomon stopped before Hart, who was chatting with a pair of witches.

  “Solomon, it’s a pleasure to see you,” one of the witches said.

  “And you, too, Aymer,” Solomon said before casting a glance at his human.

  Hart glanced up at him, his face a riot of emotions.

  “We don’t often see you at dinner with the king,” the other witch, Hugues, said. “To what do we owe the honor?”

  “Hart, you dolt,” Aymer said. “Solomon was just in court yesterday, asking the king to recognize his claim. You were there. Right beside me.”

  Hugues rolled his eyes before glaring at Aymer. “I know, idiot. I was trying to be considerate and not bring it up—but thankfully you just ruined that.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Hart said, turning to leave.

  Solomon still heard the two witches grumbling at one another as he followed Hart through the crowd. He nearly lost the man in the throng but easily picked up his scent and trailed him outside to the huge stone balcony overlooking the royal gardens.

  Hart stopped along the railing and looked out into the night.

  They were alone.

  The black velvet sky was littered with twinkling stars and a tiny, crescent moon.

  The only sound was the murmur of voices from inside and the crackling of the few fire-lit torches illuminating the space.

  “I don’t understand this world. I walked into a skyscraper, ended up in a castle, and walk out the back into a country garden with no signs of the city I’d been in,” Hart said, never turning around to face Solomon.

  “The king is a powerful warlock—in a long line of powerful witches. His family built Midnight… there’s magic around every corner here,” Solomon said. “I know you must feel overwhelmed by everything you’ve seen.”

  “Yet you came here tonight, knowing that.” Hart turned to face him. “You knew it, and you didn’t care. You’ve staked some claim and think you own me, so you came, to force my surrender.”

  “I don’t own you.” Solomon took a step closer, holding his human’s stare. “But your surrender I will gladly take.”

  Heat deepened in Hart’s gaze before he looked away. “When I talked to Reese, he told me that he’d never even imagined being with another man before he met Theis and Colm. He spoke of this overpowering need he felt for them both from the minute he laid eyes on them.”

  “Even humans can feel the mating bond. What I feel for you is a hundred times stronger than what you feel.” Solomon took one more step, closing the gap. “And hard to ignore.”

  Hart looked up at him. “I never said I felt anything. I said Reese felt something.”

  “Fighting is a waste of time. It is what it is, and no matter how hard you fight it, in the end, you will be mine.”

  Hart frowned. “And I have no say? No choice in the matter?”

  Solomon took the final step, stopping but inches from Hart. “The heart knows what is right.”

  He didn’t give Hart a chance to argue. Solomon swept the back of the human’s head in one hand and dragged him closer with the other. His lips slanted over Hart’s, eager for another kiss. The first had been too brief. Since that moment, he’d yearned for another.

  One where he could savor the taste of his human. Explore the firm lips and tongue. Draw in the scent of the man’s desire swirling around them.

  Now, he had that chance and he did all of that and more.

  His fingers curled into the soft, brown locks of Hart’s short hair. His lips and tongue sought more, hungry to taste all of the man. His body hardened, ready for where the kiss would lead them.

  Until Hart pushed him back, pulling his lips away.

  The human didn’t move away. He stood there, silently staring at Solomon.

  More to the point, staring at Solomon’s lips, as if he desired more.

  Solomon swooped in, wanting to give the human what he wanted.

  “No,” Hart said, pulling his head away.

  Solomon backed away, hurt. He took a step back… and then forced himself to take another. He wasn’t accustomed to taking no for an answer, but here, now… he had to.

  “Do you truly feel nothing for me?” he asked, sucking in a breath as he awaited the answer.

  Hart stood there, looking like he was lost.

  In a way, he was.

  Solomon had come there to help lead his human and had only made things worse.

  “I don’t…”

  Solomon felt as if a knife had been jammed into his chest. He looked away, his dragon roaring within.

  “…know what I feel.”

  He lifted his head, pinning a gaze on Hart.

  Hart scrubbed both hands on his face. “As you said… I’m overwhelmed. This whole world is beyond anything I’ve ever known. I thought it existed, but to land right here in the middle of it—it’s too much. And you… you’re too much, too.”

  “Can you answer one question for me? If you do, I promise to give you the space and time you need.”

  Hart met his gaze. “I’ll try.”

  “Do you feel a connection to me?”

  Hart sighed.

  Solomon continued. “I’m not asking you how you feel about that connection—only if you sense that it exists. If I know you do, I can hold on to that and give you what you need.”

  His human was silent a moment.

  And then he nodded. “I do.”

  Solomon felt the smile spreading across his face.

  “But that doesn’t mean I will willingly fall at your feet as you seem to expect,” Hart added. “An attraction… that’s all this is. It doesn’t mean I end up in your bed.”

  “But it doesn’t mean you won’t, either,” Solomon said with a grin.

  With every ounce of strength in his body, he forced himself back to the French doors he’d traveled through onto the balcony.

  And came nose to nose with Garret.

  Chapter Seven

  Garret glared at the dragon. “Where is he?”

  “He who?” Solomon said with a grin.

  Garret dragged Solomon back out onto the balcony. There was no one there—Garret had assumed the pair had been out here, cavorting. The cool night air enveloped him—and there was a slight hint of Hart’s scent. He spun back to Solomon. “Where’s Hart?”

  “I’m not his keeper. Nor are you.”

  “The king is asking for him. They’re about to sit for dinner. Hart is the king’s honored guest, and I’ve been asked to come find him.”

  “I don’t know where he is… he was just here a moment ago. I don’t know how he went back inside and past us without either of us seeing him.”

  Garret relaxed some—but just some. It meant the two had been out here, alone. “I don’t wish to fight you for him.”

  “Nor I you.”

  “Then give up,” Garret cried, moving closer.

  He dug his hands into the dragon’s lapels, his heart beating madly. “Give up and stop this madness.”

  Garret met Solomon’s gaze and felt desire wash over him. His lips were on the dragon’s in an instant. A moan rose from his throat as they feasted on one another’s mouths, hungry for more.

  “What an interesting turn of events.”

  Garret broke the kiss and saw Hart staring at them. He pushed himself away from Solomon. “It’s not what you think it is.”

  “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think it is,” Hart said, one eyebrow raised, before walking into the castle and leaving them alone.

  “Good job,” Solomon said before breezing past him and trailing Hart inside.

  Garret let out a shaky breath, shoving a hand through his hair before heading back inside.

  * * * *

  Hart sat at the king’s left side during dinner. The table was huge and filled with dozens of people. He did his best to follow the conversations going on around him, but he was too new to Midnight to follow everything.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12