3. A Hungry Dragon

Simeon and Ashwin both looked simultaneously toward the door to the kitchen from the servants' hall, heralding the arrival of someone else better than any announcement. Angel pulled the plate of food Ashwin had just given him closer, grabbing his fork and pretending to eat.

Leandro hopped down from his seat and ran to greet his father as he walked into the kitchen. Ignacio eagerly grabbed his son up in a huge hug, lifting the boy off his feet. Leo wrapped skinny arms around his father's neck and held on tightly, the big man easily bearing his weight, pressing his face into his son's hair and closing his eyes.

Dressed in yesterday's clothing, without the billowing greatcoat, Ignacio Salvatore was an imposing figure even with rumpled creases in his shirt and pants and tired eyes. Dressed almost head to toe in black, intimidating black combat boots with rough black denim jeans and a dark-gray t-shirt that stretched over broad shoulders, and his long black hair tied back at the nape of his neck, Ignacio was a mix of imposing muscle-bound biker and romantic novel hero, complete with the brooding attitude.

"Buongiorno, mio caro figlio," Ignacio murmured in Italian, swaying Leandro so his feet swung a bit, the boy laughing. A deep chuckle rumbled up in answer and Ignacio gently set his son back on his feet, one big hand sweeping back Leandro's thick black hair from his brow, as if checking that the injury from the night before was truly gone.

"How are you feeling, tesoro?"

"I'm good, Papá. Se?or Rory made it all better," Leo declared, grabbing his father's hand and tugging him toward the island. "I already ate so you can have my seat."

With far more grace than Angel expected from such a formidable man, Ignacio let his small son manhandle him onto the stool, and Ashwin gave his mate a soft smile, going around the end of the island to briefly embrace Ignacio in greeting. Angel looked away, not wanting to intrude, feeling again a powerful sense of déjà vu—August Remington and Angel's father, Raine, would greet each other in a similar fashion if apart for longer than a few hours.

Angel focused on his food and pretended he was elsewhere, Simeon a reassuring presence at his side. His mate made no move to get a blood bag from the freezer, likely not hungry. Simeon fed from him earlier in the week and didn't need to feed again for a while—once their bond solidified, Simeon needed to feed less, both in volume and frequency, and Angel was able to safely sustain his mate. Simeon, of course, indulged in a blood bag if necessary. Angel had no problem with his mate drinking from a blood donor at the Tower. Fed was best—he refused to deny his mate sustenance, even if it came from someone else's wrist. It was Simeon himself who abstained from availing the blood donors of their services, though they did compromise—Simeon promised to drink from a donor if injured or desperate to feed and Angel was not present or able to provide for him.

"Good morning."

Angel forced himself to look up from his plate, swallowing the suddenly tasteless food, nodding to Ignacio before speaking. "Morning." His voice cracked and he went back to drinking his coffee. Simeon put a hand on his shoulder, and Angel relaxed a smidge. He wasn't alone.

Tension rode across his shoulders, and he took a drink of coffee, hoping to ease his nerves. He had no idea what to say or do. Without an immediate threat in front of him, Angel was at a loss. How did one talk to a man long thought to be dead? A family legend who was nowhere to be found when his descendants were murdered in a mass killing that took over a hundred lives?

Ashwin broke the awkwardness by sliding another sheet of bacon into the oven, setting the timer, and cleaning up after his son, neatly taking the used plates and utensils. He refilled Leo's glass with milk and the boy climbed onto the stool between Ignacio and Angel, and Angel was glad of the buffer the boy gave him, and he tried not to feel guilty about it.

"Another sheet of bacon might be in order," Simeon said to Ashwin, tipping his head in the direction of the front of the Mansion, and a thick lock of auburn hair fell over his emerald eyes. "The wee beastie has an appetite to rival a growing boy."

"I've never fed a dragon before, but I'll take your word for it," Ashwin replied, putting the last of the bacon on another baking sheet and sliding that in the oven as well.

Angel heard Eroch coming before he saw his adopted dragon-child. Eroch never did anything quietly, and since he'd gained over fifty pounds of weight and several inches in height, length, and width in his first growth spurt since Angel broke the geas and claimed him, Eroch was in an awkward, gangly stage of growth.

He abandoned his breakfast, no longer hungry, and slid off his stool just in time to catch an armful of exuberant dragon. Eroch was all wings and long, whip-like tail—and heavy enough to make Angel wince and fall backward into Simeon. His mate caught them both, and kept Angel from landing on his ass on the floor.

"Easy, kiddo," Angel groaned, ribs aching from the impact.

Eroch was hard to hold onto—no longer the tiny cat-sized baby dragon Angel was used to—his growth spurt was dramatic, and happening far faster than Angel expected. From the sidhe twins he learned it was due to the fact that he was effectively feeding the dragon through a bond he'd mistaken for a familiar bond—dragons were raised in a communal nest by the most powerful dragon in a dynasty, feeding the egglings magic along a brooding bond, in conjunction with fresh meat. The more magic a young dragon had access to, the faster and larger they grew. Eroch was the only eggling in Angel's care—the only one in the nest, as it were—and so he benefited from a constant flow of nearly unlimited magic.

Hence the dramatic growth spurt. And the appetite that came with it.

His brood-father smelled of sadness and anger, the two most prevalent scents in the kitchen, aside from delicious bacon. Why Angel was sad was a mystery; one he would solve once he had some bacon. Angel was never sad when Eroch gave him attention.

No longer able to climb onto Angel's shoulder and survey his surroundings from that familiar perch, Eroch instead climbed up the legs of the wooden stool, and then onto the flat seat, tail and wings hanging off the edge, with his tail nearly to the floor. He was still adjusting to his new size, but he was enjoying the additional bacon goodness. Much bacon!

Angel slid a plate in front of him, and then put a cloth napkin underneath so it hung off the edge of the island above the stool. He chirped in question, tilting his head.

"In case you spill or drop anything," Angel said. "You're old enough to learn table manners, and part of that is being neat while you eat. Ashwin is making you some more bacon, but you can finish my plate while you wait. Do you want hot chocolate or tea?"

Hot chocolate! He chirped once for his first choice, and Angel gave him a soft smile and a scratch under his chin. Angel went around the island to the machine that made the yummy drinks. Simeon sat again on his own stool, but ran a cold hand across Eroch's face and down his neck, scratching the spots that were always itchy now that he was growing so quickly. He churred and rubbed his jaw along Simeon's hand in a quick greeting before attacking the food on the plate, his belly rumbling in hunger.

Eroch finished the food on the plate as Angel fixed his drink, and he looked curiously at the newcomers in the room while he waited.

The big human male smelled like Angel and Isaac—magic and power, and the same blood. The eggling, the young human, smelled like the older human, who was probably his sire. The magic that hummed through stone and wood in the den knew them—knew them well enough that the home of Angel's family hummed happily, their presence as welcome as Eroch's nestmates Isaac and Daniel.

Eroch had slept through their arrival in the night, and when he awoke in the early morning to some aches in his joints, the big den smelled of them and the violence that followed them to the Mansion. Eroch had slipped out of the huge stone home and patrolled the skies, flying low on the winds coming off the ocean in the early morning hours, his awkward wings eased by the strong currents helping to keep him aloft.

The scents of blood and death were heavy in the air in the front field near the roadway, the vehicles abandoned where they'd stopped, just outside the wards. Near the front of Angel's territory the wards were complicated and had many different layers, but the magic was nothing to Eroch, who lazily cut through the wards as he glided over the property, letting his nose fill in the events he'd missed while sleeping.

Angel was adept at defending his territory and did so with lethal results. Eroch was proud of his brood-father.

The coldhunter mated to the older human male opened the oven and Eroch inhaled the delicious aroma of bacon, his tail smacking against the wooden legs of the stool. He waited as patiently as he could for the bacon to be plated and slid across the island to him, the coldhunter smiling wide, revealing fangs, but not in an unfriendly manner. He twitched his tail, and puffed out a thin stream of smoke in thanks before diving into his bacon.

The eggling stared, leaning into his sire and intently peering at Eroch with wide, fascinated eyes. Egglings always stared at him thusly—he didn't mind. They knew how awesome he was.

Angel came back, carrying a wide, deep mug that was more like a bowl and filled with chocolate goodness. Steam rose from the frothed surface, and Eroch swallowed a chunk of bacon before dipping his snout in the hot liquid and slurping up the drink.

"How hot is that?" the coldhunter asked incredulously. He was open in his curiosity even as he cooked for his mate, one eye on the stove and the sizzling pans.

"Just short of boiling," Angel answered matter-of-factly. "He's a dragon—high temps aren't an issue. Unless it's cold, then he complains."

The coldhunter chuckled. "I'd complain over cold hot chocolate, too."

Angel leaned into Simeon, who wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his temple. A hint of happiness came from Angel at the affection from his mate, and Eroch churred in encouragement. He liked it when Angel was happy. Angel gave him a tiny smile, running a hand down his back between his wings, the touch warm and gentle.

Hot chocolate gone too soon, Eroch licked his lips and inhaled the remainder of the bacon in seconds. The plate was empty, and no more was forthcoming. He was still hungry. He chirped, nudging the empty plate toward Angel.

Simeon spoke. "He's too large now for such simple fare. He needs heartier meals. He has fangs and claws for hunting living prey. Bacon is falling short of sustaining our young dragon."

Angel hummed, frowning a bit as he thought. "There might be some steaks in the fridge. Whole chickens in the freezer?"

Eroch was ready to hop off the stool and go hunting in the fridge, but Angel beat him to it with a stern look and a pointed finger to remain where he was. "I'll call some butchers and see about getting some larger portions delivered. Until then, I'll start thawing out what's in the freezer. No hunting for snacks yourself, young dragon."

Eroch pouted, but listened to his brood-father…for now.