Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

W ade Atherton was…itchy.

His scales kept popping up and rattling. And his neck ached. Truly hurt. That meant something big was coming. Something he had no control over.

Until he found out what it was, Wade was pretty sure he didn't approve. He didn't like it when his neck hurt. Usually when that happened, though, he decided to ignore whatever big cosmic thing was going on and go find Morgan. That way at least they'd be together when whatever catastrophe was coming hit.

Like the French Revolution. The San Francisco earthquake.

So he guessed it was time to get his groove on even though it seemed like it had only been a few weeks. Generally far more time passed between their visits, just because Morgan freaked out a little if he got too possessive and alpha.

Still, any excuse to go see Morgan, right?

Mostly, Wade acted like he didn't know where Morgan lived and he would wait until the guy was out and about on business, someplace like Denver or Los Angeles to add art to his hoard, maybe. Then he would pounce. That seemed to satisfy Morgan's need for independence.

But his gut told him to go to Santa Fe and look for Morgan directly. There was something riding him, some prescience telling him he needed to get to Morgan now. And Wade listened when the universe was trying to tell him things about his mate. Maybe not anything else, but definitely about Morgan. He had priorities.

So off to Santa Fe he went.

Morgan lived in this chi-chi modern condo close to the plaza, and he had this incredibly curated urban life. It was bizarre and wonderful to watch his fussy little dragon try to pretend that he wasn't a fussy little dragon.

Morgan hoarded art of all kinds, and he had all this chrome and light and all these fancy pillows and shit. Wade loved to sleep in Morgan's bed, but he would prefer a more fortified den, when all was said and done.

At some point, Wade would convince his omega that they were mates, and they were meant to be together. He hadn't managed it in the last, oh, four hundred years? But then he was a patient dragon. He could wait a very long time for something he wanted as much as he wanted Morgan, and he spent his time in between visits collecting trinkets for his hoard. He loved potions and perfumes and poisons. Anything that came in a bottle.

He also collected dragons. Carved from stone and wood. Blown from glass. Fired from clay. Sewn from cloth or knitted with yarn.

Wade loved them all.

And also, he napped a lot.

So here he sat at seven forty-five in the morning, outside of the condo with coffee and a bagel in his gigantic duallie, waiting to see some sign of life. He didn't want to scare Morgan off by letting him know that Wade knew where he lived.

Still, the man had to leave sometime.

The problem was the people who came down from Morgan's condo were not Morgan.

He growled softly. Now that did not work for him.

Not only was it not Morgan, but it was a pair of young men laughing and holding hands. Dressed in tight jeans and T-shirts and walking along, just grinning at each other.

Morgan's friends. They had to be. Even though he'd never met Morgan's friends or been invited to a dinner party.

Then he saw a huge panel truck pull up, and the two men stopped and waved. Spoke to someone in the truck. Signed a piece of paper. And then?

The people in the truck got out. Opened the back and began to unload a living room suite. An ugly living room suite.

Why did Morgan need an ugly living room suite? Why wasn't Morgan signing for all of this? What was wrong?

Something was askew, and Wade did not approve.

That ache in his neck was getting worse, so he hopped out of his truck and sauntered over to the men who were watching the movers unload the ugly sofa.

Who on earth bought a turquoise-green sofa? A turquoise-green leather sofa? It was a crime against nature.

Someone had obviously kidnapped his Morgan.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you," he managed. "I'm looking for Morgan Divans."

One of the young men looked at him and blinked fast. "Oh, honey… He's gone. He's sold us the condo. We closed…how long has it been, darling?"

The other one answered. "Well, we've been in for two weeks, and it was a quick sale, cash, you know? We…" The man's hand kept waving, and Wade found he had the urge to just wave back. He didn't, because that would be odd.

"I don't understand."

"He said he was heading to the mountains."

Morgan wasn't going to move to the mountains. His mate hated dirt, being outside, nature. Morgan loved this condo. Morgan loved Santa Fe. This was Morgan's home.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" The one man's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, man. That sucks, but no. He's been gone for just about a month. He left before the condo was even on the market."

"We saw that it was going on, and we've been inside a couple of times for parties and we just snapped it up."

"Oh." Anger welled up in his chest. Not really at Morgan, because he'd moved innumerable times over the years. But at the fact that he had no idea where Morgan was, and he had to start from scratch, and he needed to find him…

Wade's neck hurt so damn bad.

"We don't have a forwarding address…" The two young men were backing away, and he hoped he hadn't sprung scales and scared them. Sometimes, it took effort at his age to stay one hundred percent human.

"That's okay. Thank you for your time." He gave them a winning smile, sending a burst of charm along the air between them, and both men relaxed as if he'd given them a bit of a sedative.

It was a handy skill.

"Sure, man. I hope you find him."

"Mmm. Me too." He turned and walked back to his truck, wondering what "mountains" Morgan had run off to.

If nothing else, now Wade was certain his itchy, sore neck had the right of it.

Something was definitely wrong with Morgan.