4. Corin

4

Corin

The hearthfire dragon raised one dramatic eyebrow. Corin leveled his gaze at him.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me,” Apollo Jenkins drawled. “It’s Maya whose permission you need.”

His mate made a frustrated noise. He could tell how little she wanted to answer the question—how much the mate bond tugged at her, the same way it made him want to throw himself at her feet.

“I’m not in danger,” she argued. “And even if I was— guh. Fine. He can stay on one condition.”

She said it through gritted teeth. But she said it. Corin let his eyes drift down to her, bracing himself for the sight of her.

He’d thought himself prepared, waiting here in this kitchen jail for her arrival. He’d been wrong.

The Maya who had stepped through the door wasn’t the Maya who had worked for him, glossy and sleek as her pregnant belly grew from barely there to huge, rounded beauty. It wasn’t the Maya of his guilty dreams, either, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes dark with desire, her mouth hot against his.

This Maya was a whip of controlled anger. Unpolished, her body softer and heavier, but the soul within honed to a sharpened point.

And now…

Still angry, still gorgeous, still everything he needed with every breath in his body and every atom of his soul.

Telling him he could stay.

She thrust out her chin, as though she could hear the chorus of angels that sang out inside him at her words, and was telling them to watch it. “One condition,” she repeated, and he knew the look of rapid calculation behind her eyes.

She’d agreed he could stay. And she was still trying to think up that one condition.

He raised one eyebrow. “You want me to stay. So you don’t think the hearthfire dragon and his mate can protect you?”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about. Tomás was the one who found the necklace. If there’s any chance he could be in danger—” Her face tightened. “Whoever is behind this, they targeted me because I’m an easy target. So is he.”

“No dragon would threaten a hatchling.” And if any dragon dared even breathe wrong in the presence of Maya’s child, he would make them regret they were ever born.

The same way he did. Because as far as he could tell, the only dragon who had ever threatened Maya and Tomás’s happiness was him.

He’d flown here on his own wings. That had been a mistake. It was the fastest way to travel, but it came at a brutal cost.

Duskfire focused outward brought back old injuries and old damage. Duskfire used to hide when flying fed on the pain in the world outside—and poured it directly into the user. Corin had landed outside Hideaway weighed down by all the misery that paved the world he’d flown over.

It was exhausting.

He drew himself up. What was he doing, moaning over his duskfire’s side effects? He’d come here to protect Maya.

Not to worry about himself.

“Coming through!” a woman called from outside. Felicity shouldered open the door. Corin remembered her as Montfort’s assistant—she’d performed the same role for his enemy that Maya did for him. Now she was the hearthfire dragon’s mate, and shared in his protective power.

His own magic hummed in his bones, and he held it back, a dangerous dog muzzled and leashed.

“There’s your mama,” Felicity announced breezily. The hum of gold came into the room with her. “Sorry, Mays. He’s upset because we’re still not hiding secret treasure from him, I think. Hunted through all our cupboards and was super disappointed.”

“Tomás! We’ve talked about ransacking our neighbors.” Maya held out her arms and a child much larger than Corin had been expecting ran over to her.

The last time he’d seen Tomás Flores, the boy had been wobbly on his legs and cuddling shyly into his mother’s shoulder. This child was much bigger, confident and fast, not a baby at all. A small child.

Tomás resembled his mother in coloring, with the same warm-toned skin and dark hair and eyes. He was every inch a dragon even in human form, bright-eyed and inquisitive and, apparently, frustrated at his carers’ inability to provide him with treasures to steal, and Corin was…

A strange feeling took hold of him. Was it jealousy? If Tomás was his, then Corin would have been the one to let his valuables dangle carelessly on the edges of low tables, leave treasure-boxes unlocked and vaults ajar. The child would steal a king’s ransom in gold and jewels, cementing his position as the beloved hatchling of his clan.

Corin’s chest felt heavy. Tomás had stolen the first piece of his hoard from him. But instead of it being cause for celebration, it had torn the boy’s world apart.

He clenched his jaw as Maya picked up Tomás, asking with repressed laughter in her voice what he’d been doing. Tomás grumbled something Corin couldn’t make head or tail of, and stared openly across the table at him.

“Oh.” Maya looked momentarily shaken. “Tomás, this is—well, you’ve met him before, actually…”

Tomás’s inquisitive eyes narrowed. “ Mine ,” he mumbled, clutching at the net bag that hummed with gold.

Not much gold, but some. One very familiar piece.

Corin’s gold watch, which he had inherited from his grandfather when he took his place as head of the clan.

“Yours to keep,” he told the child, inclining his head. “Stolen fair and square.”

“ Mine ,” Tomás repeated, and threw his hands around his mother’s neck.

“Stolen fair and square?” Maya almost managed to keep the outrage out of her voice. “That’s a change from—”

She bit her lip, stopping herself mid-sentence. “I suppose you’ve got the necklace back, so it evens out a little,” she said hopefully.

The necklace. Corin’s hand found it without looking, he was so attuned to the gold-hum. Strange, though, that Tomás hadn’t spared it a glance.

Strange.

And suspicious.

Maya had retrieved the Ocean of Stars necklace before the boy could add it to his hoard, clearly, but still … that much treasure, for a dragon child whose only other gold was a single watch and several stainless-steel spoons…

“What other treasures does he have in his hoard?” he asked.

Maya frowned at him. “This is it,” she said. “Everything in the bag.”

Corin glanced at the net bag. There was little in it—other than the watch, only a few baubles. “Are you sure about that?”

His doubts had stung Maya—she stalked ahead of him like an offended cat.

Leading him straight for her home.

It had not been his intention, but once the opportunity showed itself, his dragon wouldn’t let him ignore it.

Hideaway Cove stretched around the sheltered bay that gave the town its name. The housing stock was mainly older, wood-clad and picturesque, with some newer developments on the hill that led to an abandoned lighthouse. The place must be battered by winter storms and salt spray year around. He knew from his research that it wasn’t a wealthy town. Even its local dragon lived by his own work, not the inherited wealth of generations of treasure and power. And yet … the surrounding houses were well maintained. Tidy paintwork. Roofs and shutters in good condition. Apollo and Felicity’s home was no different, except that it was painted an outrageous yellow.

No cracked or shattered windows—in a town inhabited by shifters, which must include rambunctious shifter children, that was a miracle. The mayor was a builder of some sort, wasn’t he? Perhaps he blackmailed all his voters into contracting him to maintain their properties.

The alternative itched at him. Other shifters whispered about Hideaway Cove. It was a sanctuary in more ways than one. A place of what non-dragons might call community. Not based on treasure and authority, but kindness and people … helping one another.

If that were true, this town might as well be another planet to the way he’d grown up. His family kept to themselves. No other shifter would trust a Blackburn, with their dangerous magic.

He didn’t even trust himself.

Corin was on edge as Maya took him down the road. What would her house be like? She’d lived in an apartment while she was working for him. He’d never seen inside it, of course. He had been so careful to ensure their relationship had remained strictly professional.

The old Maya had a polished, neutral style, and he’d always assumed her home would be the same. But the Maya walking next to him now was all simmering fire and wariness. Had this been hiding beneath that polished surface all this time?

Secretly, he hoped that whatever accommodations she had found for herself here would not be up to standard, whether that standard was cool professionalism or wild freedom. Then he would have an excuse to step in. Whatever she lacked, he could provide.

“Here we are,” she said, stopping in front of a building on the waterfront.

His heart sank.

The house was perfect. Small—an annex to the bed-and-breakfast next door. But ideally situated in front of the water, and perfectly maintained, with strong shutters on the downstairs windows to keep out the winter storms and a steep roof above the gabled attic windows perfect for a young dragon to practice launching himself off.

There were flowers on the front step. Flowers.

Maya glanced at him. “It’s actually very nice,” she said defensively, and he frowned. Had something on his face given away his displeasure? “There’s plenty of space for the two of us.”

“I hadn’t suggested otherwise.”

“Yes, but you—never mind.” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t even know why I’m bringing you here.”

“To discover whether Tomás has more treasure up his sleeve than he’s let you see.”

“I told you, it’s all in there.” She nodded at Tomás’s bag. She was carrying him tucked against one hip, slightly overbalanced. Corin repressed a sudden vision of himself carting the child on his shoulders. “He ran for it the moment he sensed you were in town.”

“I carry part of my own hoard with me, when I know I am going to encounter other dragons,” he told her. “But not all .”

“He doesn’t have anything else,” she retorted, but there was a hint of unease in her voice.

Because if Tomás did have a larger, hidden hoard—where would he have gotten it?

She jerked her head. “Come inside.”

The inside of her perfect house was even worse than the outside. An eclectic collection of furniture, all well-loved and clearly given by friends who wished only good things for her. The air smelled of delicious baking. A hint of chaotically strewn toys and misplaced items suggested a bustling life ready to be taken up again the moment the current crisis was over.

The moment he was out of her life again.

Corin’s chest tightened. Maya was right. There was plenty of space for her little family of two here—and none for him.

He had been careful to give no indication that he wanted to be in her life. He couldn’t risk showing any weakness; and wanting something he could not have was the greatest weakness of all.

All he could offer her was his protection.

But once he’d dealt with the threat, what else could he offer her?

His dragon grumbled inside him—and then the presence of gold struck him like a gong.

Maya’s eyes were on him at once. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I was right,” he said, his mouth dry. “Tomás’s hoard is greater than the baubles he’s shown you so far.”

Her face tensed. “His room’s upstairs.”

Tomás’s room was small. Corin noted the reinforced locks on the window with approval—very little could keep a dragon from going wherever it wanted to go, but those would at least slow the boy down—but nothing else about the room registered. The presence of gold was a hum against his skin.

Tomás transformed into his dragon form. He was a blazing ember of a dragonlet, a white-hot belly and wings cheerful flame-red with yellow and orange scales in between. A cluster of translucent spikes sprouted from his skull and along the length of his wings. Corin had never seen anything like it.

He’d never seen any dragon shifter in their dragon form this young. Maya’s child was a marvel.

The little dragonlet leaped in front of the closet. “Chh-ree!” he declared. His emotions flooded out, a telepathic wave of excitement and pride and possessiveness.

Corin grinned. “You defend your hoard admirably, young dragon. But I doubt your mother would be pleased if you burned down her house, even if you got rid of me with it.”

“You heard that? Saw that?” Maya blurted. Her expression faltered, confusion and a hope that clutched at his chest showing through the cracks.

“Of course. He’s a young shifter, and telepathy will be his main method of communication in this form. It’s very common to start with feelings, before moving on to individual words and then sentences.”

Maya swallowed. “I—thank you.”

Corin frowned. She could hear it, too? But Maya was human. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have any telepathic powers at all. But she was mother to a dragon shifter. Maybe that changed things?

“No one told you this?” No, he thought—that was the wrong way around. “You haven’t told anyone that you can hear his telepathy?”

“That’s not really relevant to the situation at hand, is it?” She crouched down in front of Tomás, who scurried onto the newly available higher ground—her head. “Ow! Tomás, Mama doesn’t like it when you climb on my head, remember? Claws back on the floor, please. There we go. Thank you, sweetpea.” She kissed him on the top of his head. “Are you hiding something in the cupboard, my love?”

“Chree!” A very strong sense of no buffeted out from the little dragon’s mind.

Corin leaned against the doorframe. “I heard there was a dragon here with a very impressive hoard,” he mused out loud. The hum of gold against his skin was beginning to itch. He suddenly had a new appreciation for his parents putting up with his own early hoarding instincts. The presence of not-their-gold under the same roof must have been excruciating. “But it can’t be that impressive, if you don’t even want to show it off. Very powerful dragons are brave enough to show off their hoards and stop them from being stolen.”

Suspicion bubbled against his mind. But if there was one thing any dragon loved almost as much as having piles and piles of gold, it was making sure that everyone knew they had piles and piles of gold.

Maya didn’t sigh with relief, but she’d worked for him long enough he could tell that was what she wanted to do. “Thank you, sweetpea.”

She opened the closet door and Tomás leaped to the shelf at the very top—too high for Maya to see into it without standing on a stool. She brought one, and her spine stiffened when she saw what was hidden up there.

“Oh,” she said in a very small voice. “Shall I get it down for you?”

Absolutely not. Tomás was a big and strong dragon, and would do it himself, which meant Corin got to watch Maya gently lifting a battered briefcase from the closet’s top shelf while Tomás gripped it with his claws, wings beating wildly.

Maya blew a wing-buffeted curl out of her face. “Here we go,” she said uncertainly, sitting back to let Tomás take center stage.

The little dragon strutted on top of the briefcase, puffing out his cheeks.

“He’s not breathing fire yet?” Corin asked in an undertone.

Maya paled. “Should he be? I know that not all dragons breathe fire. Apollo has his sparkly magic, instead, and you have—whatever it is with your shadows, but…”

He will have inherited his father’s powers. What sort of dragon is Tomás’s father? The question stuck in Corin’s throat.

Before they could continue the conversation, Tomás leaped off the suitcase and wrestled the clips open.

“Chree!” he announced, striking a pose in front of the case’s contents.

Corin bit back a curse.

He’d recognized the Ocean of Stars at once. His grandfather had brought it into the family hoard, and the stories of how he’d gotten his claws on it had been told and retold at clan gatherings ever since Corin could remember.

What Tomás had in the box was the heart of the Blackburn family hoard.

“Ah,” he said haltingly. “I see. Yes. The Coronet of Tears. Vellugat’s Collar—that’s very old. These are all very—very impressive.”

Tomás hefted the necklet—a wide, intricate chain of interlinked golden scales—and squeaked proudly before almost overbalancing. He caught his balance, dropped the priceless Collar, and flicked a handful of rings out of the case with his back legs.

More necklaces. A tiara set with massive, glowing fire rubies. And—

“ Fuck ,” Corin groaned. Maya jerked. “My apologies. But that … that is…”

He stared helplessly at the short string of gold beads. Next to the fiery jewels and sheer bulk of gold in the rest of Tomás’s hoard, it looked insignificant. Until you knew where it came from.

“An ancestor of mine,” he said slowly, “took that from Troy as it burned.”