Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Jaron landed in front of his parents' mansion, stomach in knots. The front door swung open before he could knock, revealing the household's loyal housekeeper, Nidra.

"Master Jaron." Nidra offered a polite nod, her tone respectful though her eyes were sharp, always taking in every detail.

"Hey, Nidra. Is my mother around?" He stepped inside.

"She's in the sunroom. Alone," Nidra replied, leading the way down the hall adorned with paintings of Tymera ancestors. Jaron felt the familiar weight of those judging stares as they passed.

Finding his mother in the sun room, Jaron prepared for the inevitable confrontation. She looked up, her expression as cold as the marble floors. "Why is your phone off? I've been trying to reach you."

"It ran out of battery," he lied smoothly, leaning against the door frame. "What did you want?"

"What do I want?" she echoed, standing up slowly, elegance wrapped in disdain. "I want you to stop associating with vampires. The neighbors have started talking."

Jaron scoffed. "Why do you have to care so much about what the neighbors think?"

"The gossip is bad for our reputation."

"You've always cared way too much about our reputation."

"Reputation is everything, Jaron," she said. "Do you believe people would buy our jewelry if we weren't respected? They wouldn't. And then how would I feed your siblings? Do you ever think about that?"

Jaron's cheeks heated. He didn't want her to be right, but she made it so difficult to argue sometimes. "We don't have to live in extravagance."

"Would you have us live in poverty?"

"You're being dramatic," Jaron said. "It's not all black and white."

His mother arched an eyebrow at him. "I didn't think you knew that."

Jaron took a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He needed to play this right if he wanted any chance of getting the funds for the amulet. "Can we not argue?"

His mother's eyes narrowed as if she wondered what his agenda was, but then she made herself relax. "Very well," she said. "You're right." She gestured at the armchairs by the window. "Sit with me. Let's have a serious conversation for once. You're certainly old enough for it."

Jaron sat down and his mother sat opposite him, folding her hands in her lap.

"I want to apologize for what I said last time," she began, surprising Jaron. "I was agitated and worried."

He bit back a retort, recognizing this as an olive branch. For the sake of peace and his mission, he nodded. "I appreciate that."

A soft smile touched her lips, one that almost transported him back to his childhood when he'd still believed his parents loved him. But he quickly pushed the illusion aside.

His mother turned her gaze out the window, the sunlight catching in the rubies she wore around her neck. "People used to tell me I was blessed for having so many children," she said quietly. "It's highly unusual for a dragon couple to have more than one or two at most, yet I bore three sons."

Her focus returned to Jaron, and he could see the weariness in her eyes. "They don't understand how difficult it is to raise so many children." She paused before continuing. "I let you get away with too much because I was focused on your little brothers."

Jaron's jaw tightened. "You let me get away with things because I wasn't important enough to be watched closely. By the time I entered kindergarten and still couldn't breathe fire, I was an embarrassment to you and the rest of the family."

His mother grew quiet, her eyes searching his face for something she seemed unable to find. Finally, she sighed, a heavy sound. "You're right," she said softly. "You weren't what we expected."

Jaron's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anger and a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd acknowledge her arrogance for once.

"In a way," she said, "I always thought the fault lay with myself. Even now, I look at you and I wonder what I could have done differently. Should I have eaten more meat when I was pregnant? Should I have taken better care of my body? Would you have developed your powers if I'd been more attentive when you were a toddler? Are you rebelling because your father and I weren't strict enough?" She shook her head. "I struggle to be fair to you because I see your failings as my own."

The words stung. His mother had never been this honest with him, but the truth wasn't comforting. Jaron wasn't happy to hear that his lack of talent made his mother so miserable that she'd never managed to be a good parent to him.

He stared at her with a raw ache in his chest. The admission felt like a double-edged sword; it explained so much but healed nothing. "That doesn't make it better."

"No, I suppose not." Her gaze flicked away again, looking out over the yard. "In any case, you are not making things better, meeting with all those vampires."

"It's only one vampire."

"Be that as it may," she looked back at him, "you know that reputable dragons don't mix with the likes of vampires. If this is another act of rebellion, what will it take for you to stop?"

Jaron took a deep breath, bracing himself. "I'm not rebelling, Mother. Keegan is my mate."

His mother's eyes narrowed. "Fated mates are the stuff of fairy tales, Jaron. You're too old to believe in such nonsense."

"I know what I feel," Jaron countered firmly. He'd known his mother wouldn't like this news and part of him enjoyed breaking it to her. "I trust my inner dragon on this."

She licked her lips before pointing out, "You've never been very in tune with your dragon."

Jaron's jaw tightened. That was a low blow. After the conversation they'd just had, he'd expected better, but his mother was too set in her ways. Things would always be like this between them. "On this matter, I am in tune with my dragon. If you'd ever found your fated mate, you'd understand."

"If there truly was a fated mate out there for you, he would not be a vampire," she declared. "You're better than that."

Jaron smiled wryly. "I'm not better than Keegan. If you met him you'd see that too. He's powerful in all the ways that I'm not." Maybe that was the way the universe balanced itself out.

"There is no way any child of mine is bound to a vampire," his mother insisted. "You are taking things too far."

"I've already completed the mate bond," Jaron said with some pleasure. "There's no going back now. You need to accept reality."

The color drained from his mother's face. "You did what?"

Jaron held her gaze, refusing to back down. "Keegan and I are bonded for life."

Not the most diplomatic thing he could have said, but he didn't care about being diplomatic just then, he only wanted to see her explode.

His mother's face twisted. "How could you be so reckless?"

"It's not reckless, Mother. It's love. I know that's a foreign concept to you."

"Wait until your father hears about this!"

"Oh? What's he going to do? Disown me? What will the neighbors say about that?"

Her face reddened. "Jaron Tymera." Her voice rose. "Do you think this is a joke? You've put our entire family at risk with your foolish actions!"

There she went, being dramatic again.

"Do you understand what you've done?" she demanded. "This scandal could ruin us! How could you be so selfish?"

Jaron's fists clenched at his sides. "Selfish? For finding love? For following my heart?"

Her voice grew shrill. "Love? This isn't love, Jaron. This is madness! You're jeopardizing everything we've worked for!"

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Enough, Mother." He held up a hand. "I'm not a child anymore. You can't lecture me and expect me to just sit here and take it."

She froze, her mouth half-open in mid-rant.

"I've made my decision," Jaron continued. "You need to accept it."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You think you can just walk in here and demand acceptance for this… this abomination?"

"Yes," he replied calmly. "Because it's my life. Not yours."

She took a step back as if he'd struck her.

"And another thing," Jaron added, taking advantage of her silence. "I'll be discrete about my relationship with Keegan. I'll give you time to do whatever damage control you need. But only if you do me a favor in return, otherwise I'll shout my love from the rooftops."

"What do you want, Jaron?"

"I need to borrow Dad's credit card for a day."

His mother's gaze bore into him. "And what, pray tell, do you intend to buy with it?"

Jaron crossed his arms over his chest, matching her gaze. "I can't tell you that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Both," he replied, maintaining his stance.

She considered him quietly, her displeasure contained but not concealed. The silence stretched.

"If I'm going to stay quiet for the sake of the family's wealth," Jaron continued, "then I want access to that wealth. Isn't that only fair?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The weight of her disapproval bore down on him, but he stood firm.

Finally, she sighed and straightened her shoulders. "Very well," she said slowly. "But there are conditions."

Of course.

There were always conditions.

"You have to agree to wear a suitable outfit for the next month," she said, predictably. She was always on him about his clothes. "And you have to keep quiet about this… arrangement for at least that long."

His jaw clenched. "A month?"

She nodded curtly.

He glanced out the window, then back at his mother's stern face. It was infuriating to have to negotiate like this over the truth of his mating, over something that felt so right and natural to him, but he knew better than to push further.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Her expression softened slightly, but only just. "I'll get your father's card." She rose from her seat and left the room without another word.

As Jaron waited, he exhaled slowly. Their conversation had been rough, but at least he was getting what he'd come here for.

Minutes later, his mother returned and handed him the card with an air of reluctant acceptance.

"Remember your promise."

"I will," Jaron replied, taking the card from her hand.

Money. The one thing he could count on his family for.

Jaron pocketed the card and turned to leave the sunroom, tension easing from his shoulders. At least that part of his day was over and he could get back to Keegan.

As he reached the front door, it swung open, and a small figure darted inside. Fei, his youngest brother, beamed up at him with bright eyes. "Jaron!" Fei exclaimed, bouncing on his toes.

"Hey, kiddo." Jaron smiled, ruffling Fei's hair. "What's got you so excited?"

Fei's face lit up even more if that was possible. "I set a tree on fire today! By accident," he added quickly, "but it was so cool! All my friends said I'm the strongest dragon they know!"

Jaron chuckled, genuinely impressed despite himself. "A whole tree? That's something."

"Yeah!" Fei nodded vigorously. "The teacher wasn't happy though. I got scolded for it." His excitement dimmed for a moment before brightening again. "But my friends thought it was awesome!"

Jaron crouched down to Fei's level, resting a hand on his shoulder. "That's because it is awesome," he said with a grin. "Just try not to burn down any more trees, okay? We don't need any forest fires."

Fei giggled. "Okay, I'll try."

Jaron patted his head affectionately. Despite everything he felt towards his parents and their expectations, he didn't begrudge Fei or Casca their powers. If anything, he was grateful they wouldn't have to endure the same struggles he had.

"Keep practicing," Jaron encouraged him. "But be careful."

"I will!" Fei promised before dashing off down the hall, probably eager to share his adventure with someone else.

Jaron watched him go with a mixture of pride and melancholy. He silently thanked the sun goddess for blessing his brothers.

Prodigies that they were, they'd never have to go through what he went through.

It puzzled him sometimes, that the same set of parents could produce children as vastly different as him and his brothers, but life was just like that sometimes, wasn't it?

Keegan sat cross-legged on the worn rug in his room, eyes closed, trying hard to focus. He inhaled deeply and reached out to his immense new powers. Without Jaron there, though, everything felt…off. His powers were a tornado within him, something that refused to be tamed.

He attempted it anyway, looking for clues about the kidnapper's identity. Instantly, visions surged forward—fragments of faces, places cloaked in shadows, disjointed scenes of chaos and pain. His head throbbed with each pulse of foresight pressing in on him. He fought to anchor himself but felt as if he were slipping on ice. The harder he tried to grasp a solid vision, the more elusive it became.

Just push a little harder, he told himself. You can control this.

The pressure built behind his eyes until he couldn't bear it any longer. He wrenched himself free from the visions and fell back onto the rug, gasping for breath. The ceiling above spun in lazy circles as he tried to steady himself and make sense of the impressions he'd gotten.

There was no point, though.

It was all too disjointed.

Too different from the neat and tidy network he'd been able to arrange his visions in before.

If only he could go back to that…

Maybe he could, if he stopped trying to look at the kidnapper for now. The shielding magic on the villain probably complicated things. If Keegan wanted to gain control over his new powers, he needed to start smaller, simpler.

Focusing again, he tried peering into the immediate future instead. This time, he concentrated on Jaron's return from his parents' mansion. Images flickered at first—a fleeting glimpse of Jaron's mother's stern face, the heavy door of their mansion swinging open—and then finally, Keegan managed to see his network again.

He exhaled a sigh of relief.

This felt like coming home.

How many hours of his life had he spent in this space? And it looked even better now! So much sharper. It was as if he'd switched from high-definition to 4k.

Every thread glowed with new clarity, offering him details about his visions he'd never have noticed before; the fire in Jaron's eyes as he argued with his mother, the minute twitch of her fingers as she clutched her pearls.

But when Keegan focused more on the threads themselves, something disturbing caught his attention.

No, this couldn't be…

He looked at one thread, then another.

They were fraying.

Coming apart.

All of them.

What the hell?

What was going on? Was someone messing with Jaron's future?

Frantically, Keegan looked at other futures, at visions unrelated to Jaron, but they were all the same. This issue wasn't isolated to Jaron. There was nothing wrong with Jaron's future.

There was something wrong with the future in general.

Keegan pulled himself out of his visions with a sense of horror. How had he missed this before?

He got up, struggling to make sense of the discovery he'd made. What could possibly be threatening the future of everything?

The other seer?

Their ritual to change fate? That had to be it!

And now Keegan knew just how pressing it was that he put a stop to them. Everything was on the line.

Literally.