36. Epilogue

Epilogue

Kyro

A s much as I loath admitting it, I don't hate Cyrus Ra'a. His best man, however, is a fucking asshole.

Cyrus wanted a quiet night out for his bachelor party—something I respect—so he planned dinner at a fancy steakhouse with the groomsmen: me, Jethro, Midas, Damian, and Otto. It's an odd mix of Silver Horde and Gold Horde dragons, and even after a year of peace, we're still a little on edge around each other. But we're trying. And it's working for tonight. Sort of.

It would work better without Jethro . The asshole keeps ordering champagne and forcing everyone to drink it. I hate champagne.

I just have to get through this infernal wedding, then I can stop pretending we're friends for the sake of my Ra'a and her peace. A few more days, and I can go back to silently hating the horde that destroyed my future.

I throw back the glass of scotch I ordered and signal to the waiter to bring me another. Screw Jethro and his fancy champagne.

"Is Finley nervous about the transformation?" Damian asks.

The Week of the Goddess begins the night of the wedding. The following day, Finley will become a dragon.

"She's more nervous about the wedding." Cyrus swallows his champagne like it's a shot of vodka. "I would have eloped a year ago, but she wanted the big wedding, everything perfect. It's stressing her out so much her hair's going gray."

"Really?" Otto asks, his boyish face shocked.

"No." Cyrus claps the younger man on the shoulder. "It's a figure of speech."

Otto's cheeks flame bright pink. He's a gullible kid. Takes everything literally. And always gets embarrassed about it. I silently push my untouched champagne in his direction. He gives me a thankful look and downs the social lubricant.

"Here's to this fucking wedding being behind us." Midas raises his glass, and I wonder what he has to be grumpy about. Then again, I've never seen the king of the Gold Horde smile, so maybe this is just his norm.

"Here's to dragon mates!" Jethro adds drunkenly.

"Keep your voice down," I growl. The asshole draws too much attention everywhere he goes. Dragons should keep a low profile, not announce themselves to the world.

"Aw, are you embarrassed?" He coos at me. Fucking idiot. "Are you worried someone will think we're playing a dragon role playing game?" He leans too close, his breath sweet from liquor. "Don't worry, Ky, you're too massive for anyone to think you're anything but what you are, a giant asshole."

He's speaking quietly enough that no one else hears him, distracted with their own conversations. There's a smile on his face, but the look in his eyes burns as we stare each other down. I don't know what I did to deserve venom from a man who is nothing but jovial with everyone else. But I know exactly what he did to me, what he took from me.

"So, are we going to crash the girl's party?" He turns to the rest of the table, raising his voice and elbowing Cyrus. "You miss her, don't you?"

Cyrus grins good-naturedly, not arguing. Which isn't surprising. He and Finley are insufferable, always together, joined at the hip.

I down my second glass of Scotch. "This is supposed to be a guy's night. "

"I want my mate." Midas follows his growl by finishing his drink in one gulp. He's not drinking the champagne either, opting instead for a dirty martini with extra olives.

"You're making us jealous," Otto says with a laugh that's only half joking.

I recognize the poorly disguised feeling. It's been years since any of the Silver Horde dragons have found mates. After centuries of wars and low birthrates, we're the smallest of the nine hordes. All of us are now over twenty-three, and we know our mates aren't among our own people. Not anymore.

It's part of why our Ra'a needed this peace. The trade the Gold Horde does with the other hordes is the key to interacting with other dragons and finding our mates. We've been isolated for too long.

"Alright, alright," Cyrus laughs. "Let's go."

"Do you think they'll be upset?" Damian asks.

"Finley will love it." Jethro's already standing and dropping enough cash for twice the amount we ordered. Rich fucker. Always rubbing it in that the gold horde has what we don't. Money, prestige, opportunity.

It's gotten better over the past year, but it's nowhere near what it was. Or what it should be. New York was ours first until they came in and stole it .

It takes no time at all for Jethro to corral us all out of the restaurant and two blocks over to the dance club where Finley's having her party. Fuck, I hate dancing.

But the moment we walk in, I change my mind.

Everything stops.

My heart.

My breath.

My body turns to fire as my gaze lands on swaying hips, long dark hair, light brown skin. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen is dancing with Finley. Her bright smile steals my attention completely until she looks up and I see her stunning amber eyes. They widen as they take me in. Does she feel it, too?

Then, that fucker, Jethro, walks between us, cutting our connection. She notices him right away and rolls her lips between her teeth. Something in her expression heats for a moment before she tucks it away behind a cordial smile. My fists clench, tension coiling in my gut.

Finley spots us and flings herself into Cyrus's arms with a happy squeal. She drags Cyrus and, by extension, all of us to a table where Midas is already waiting with his mate on his lap.

Jeslyn makes introductions, but the only name I hear is Sora . My mystery woman.

When I hold out my hand to shake hers, Jethro cuts between us and pulls out a chair for her. "Sit, Ara'ha."

He speaks to her, but his eyes are on me. A silent challenge.

Ara'ha. Mate in the old tongue. I growl with clenched teeth. How dare he call her that! Whatever he thinks she is to him, he's wrong.

Because this beautiful woman is mine. My mate. My Ara'ha.

And I'll give anything and everything to have her.