Realization hit her. "How is it that you're displaying alpha tendencies? I thought that trait had been bred out of our kind centuries ago." Then again, her father wasn't all that docile when Mother wasn't around.

"It's called having balls, moonbeam. I might have had a lot done to me, but I still have them." To her shock, he grabbed his groin and gave it a squeeze.

It was ridiculously masculine. Stranger still, she enjoyed it. "With your alpha nature and my impeccable genes, do you realize what kind of daughters we're going to have?"

"Daughters?"

"I'd prefer a few sons. That would really cement our place in the Silver Sept."

"Sons?" he squeaked for a second time.

How cute. Maybe she'd been mistaken about him being alpha. A beta would work a lot better with her lifestyle. They tended to ask fewer questions. At least, Caelly's beta husband, Soren, tended to be mellow and just stay at home with the kids. But not all males were like that.

"Yes, sons. The Silvergraces are plagued by daughters. And sisters." She couldn't help but frown. "Do you have sisters?"

"One sister, and some brothers."

"Brothers, really?" She brightened. "Are they single?"

"No."

"Pity. Then again, it doesn't matter. I'd rather keep you and your possible boy-making genes to myself. No use in sharing that kind of prestige with others."

"That seems rather mercenary."

"What do you expect of dragons?" She slipped around him to his back. She ran a finger over his wings-fascinating things. She'd never seen full-sized wings on a hybrid before. "How do you manage these? Most dragons who can hold a half-shift have a hard time with these. They're usually stunted or spastic in their movements. You have great control." A control that wavered, given the wings shivered as she stroked along a tendon, following it to where it merged seamlessly into his back. She slid her arms around him, under the wings, her fingers tickling over his flat and ridged stomach. "A pretty adornment, and yet such a waste given they're useless." The hybrid shapes were good only for fighting short battles, not flight.

"How is flying useless?"

She froze against him. "Did you say fly? You fly in this shape?" Impossible. Only in their dragon shape could they manage flight. "Show me."

"You'd have to stop hugging me first."

But she didn't want to stop. Brand was hers, and she wanted to touch him. To mark him for the world to see. He's mine. A new treasure for her hoard. My shiny.

She ducked around his wings and faced him, fascinated by his proud bearing, her senses tingling at the scent of him. She traced her fingers across his jaw, and he pulled away.

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a freak for you to grope."

"Who called you a freak? I think you're quite handsome." So handsome even in this shape that she stood on tiptoe and gave him a light kiss, a fleeting press of skin that ignited something between them.

Mine.

The very fact that Aimi coveted him so desperately meant she stepped away. She was the one in control here, not him.

"Why did you do that?" He crossed his arms and glared.

"Because I felt like it." Instinct wanted her to touch him. But her desire for him didn't make her gullible. "I don't believe you can fly. Not in this shape. That is a feat reserved for when we are dragon."

"Except..." The powerful muscles of his thighs strained against his khaki slacks as he leaped upward. "I." Flutter. "Am not." Flap." A dragon."

Each stroke of his wings took him higher into the air until he hovered about fifteen feet above.

"Amazing." She breathed the word. "You will make a fine husband." A strong mate.

"Actually, I'm the fly-away groom. It was nice meeting you, moonbeam. Best of luck on trapping some poor bastard into being your Stepford husband."

And then he thought to fly away from her, this male who'd come into her world unmarked and unclaimed. He taunted her with his existence then mocked her by escaping, expecting her to chase.

It was just like the mating dances of old when her kind flew the skies, owning the heavens and the lands underneath. The good old days that were now long gone. These days, dragons hid themselves. They had to after the great hunts of the Middle Ages decimated their numbers. Stupid kings sending their knights on constant quests to defeat the mighty beasts. They were hunted almost to extinction during that dark era.

But that had been hundreds of years ago. Now, the dragons thrived and accumulated wealth, pretty-shiny piles of it all over the world.

People could say money didn't bring happiness. They'd obviously never rolled in gold dust, silky soft and warm to the skin.

Yet for all the joys, she had to be careful. The dragons no longer ruled the heavens in the cities. They needed to employ caution and stealth. There were times it sucked. Times it proved a challenge to obey.

But challenge was a fun thing. The hunt she was about to embark on even better.

Hands on her hips, Aimi watched her male fly away and smiled.

They are all going to be so jealous when they see who I snagged.

If she could find him.

A few hours later, having returned home to gather intel, Aimi scowled over Adrianne's shoulder. "What do you mean you can't track him?"

Much as she'd wanted to keep her finding of a male dragon secret, she'd had to confide in someone because, with Brandon taking to the skies, it meant he didn't leave a trail.

Playing hard to get. How cute. It would make her claiming all the more satisfying-after she stopped hitting him for making it so difficult. Why couldn't he just obey?

Her biggest fear now was that one of her cousins, or even her aunts, would find him first.

He's mine. And she wanted him bad enough that she'd give up part of her treasure to keep him.

Adi popped the purple lollipop out of her mouth, displaying for a second her purple tongue and inner lip. "Whoever this guy is that you claim you found, he is either really, really good at hiding, or he doesn't exist."

"Who doesn't exist?" Aunt Xylia made no pretense of ignoring their conversation as she snuck up behind them in the library.

By library, Aimi should note that it spanned several stories, the ceiling a domed cupola with skylights. UV-protected ones, of course, to protect the thousands of books stored, many of them ancient and bound in treated skin-not all of it animal.

Everything from long-lost scrolls to ancient scriptures to the latest in werewolf romance filled the space. They especially enjoyed reading supposed dragon romances. The fact that none of those authors got their culture right was giggle worthy.

"You still haven't answered," her aunt snapped, leaning closer.

Adi tried to swap screens, but Aimi knew there was no point in hiding their research. Especially not from Aunt Xylia; the aunt she hoped could help Brand with his problem.

Aimi straightened her shoulders and blurted, "I found a mate today."

"Found one?" Her aunt straightened and arched a finely groomed brow. "You don't just 'find' a mate. They don't just drop out of the sky."

"This one did. And I claimed him." Mostly. She'd put the mark on him as soon as she located him again.

"You claimed a man that fell out of the sky? Wonderful. Your mother will be pleased. Although, she will stand to lose that sweet new ride she commissioned."

It did not surprise Aimi that her mother had bet against her. If Aimi could have bet on herself not getting hitched, she would have, but apparently, that was considered cheating or something in the marriage pool.

"I did find a mate, and a strong one, too. He can hold a hybrid shape."

"For what? A minute. Two? Your grandfather used to be able to hold it for almost an hour. It's how he made his money in the boxing rings back in the forties that started our family back on the road to prosperity."

The Depression had hit everyone hard, but they'd also had to deal with a dragon hunter who caught on to the dragon's existence. He'd gone after every asset the Silvergraces owned when he couldn't get to them directly. They'd eventually dealt with him, but not without cost to their fortune. A fortune that was bigger and better today.

"Mine can hold his shape even longer." So long, he apparently couldn't change back, but she didn't feel a need to reveal that aspect yet.

"Really?" The doubting tone drew out the word.

"Yes, really."

"And where is this incredible paragon?"

"You'll meet him soon."

"Sure, we will." Her aunt's gaze fixed on her. "You do know just claiming you're mated doesn't count. You actually have to produce a male and prove it before you can be relieved of your duties to the family."

"He exists." Somewhere.

"Then I look forward to meeting him."

Aimi and Adi watched their aunt make her way to the door and waited until they were sure she was gone before huddling heads and whispering.

"I think she's on to us."

"She'd have to be stupid not to be," Adi snorted. "Now, back to this imaginary mate of yours. Where do you think he might have gone next?"

"I don't know."

And hours later, sitting on the roof of her house, she still didn't know. However, oddly enough, she wasn't worried. Despite their short encounter, she could have sworn a bond had been forged between them. A tenuous one for the moment, but it was there, inside her, a slender thread linking them. Tomorrow, she would use to it to track down her missing mate.

I will find him and claim him. Then she was shopping for a new home to stash her hoard.

Chapter Five.

I found her.

The crazy woman with moonbeam hair sat with her knees tucked under her chin, perched on the roof of a house-if, by house, something with a few wings and more square footage than a mall counted.

He'd wondered if he had the right place when he saw it during his first pass overhead. It wasn't as if the woman he'd met on the rooftop had given him an address, just a name. Aimi Silvergrace, a name both beautiful and suiting. A name he'd used to track down information-a quick swoop across a balcony, swiping a smartphone as he passed, gave him access to internet search.

There wasn't a ton of information about her. Moonbeam didn't belong to social media. However, she didn't entirely escape the news, given she was an heiress of a very old, aristocratic family. She attended things like fundraisers and opera events. One article described her family as "filthy rich." And snobby. The bluest blood you could imagine--and yet she'd been rooftop slumming when she'd found him.

Found me and claimed I was a dragon. She also claimed I am hers.

Because she isss mine. The coldness of his heart couldn't help him from thinking it. Feeling it. It was utter nonsense, of course.

Dragons didn't exist, and no one wanted a monster. She played games with him, obviously. But why? He wanted to know. Wanted to know why she lied. Why she tortured him.

Just like a tiny spark of hope within wanted to know if, perhaps, she spoke the truth. Were there others like him?

To find out, he'd have to see her again. He didn't question the urgency of this need. He forgot for a moment the plight of his sister. Only one thing mattered: finding Aimi.

So he located her, and without calling first or warning, he sought her out. He hovered far overhead, a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things, yet she spotted him. She peered upward and looked right at him.

How did she know he was there? The same way I knew where to go. Much like a homing pigeon-super tasty when basted over a coal-driven fire-he just knew where she was. He dipped a little lower, allowing her to see him clearly. He remained aloft, though, not sure if he dared come within reach.

Showoff.

The voice wasn't his own, and yet...it was in his head, and distinctly feminine. He whirled around to look, but he remained alone in the sky.

Can you hear me? She spoke; not aloud, but inside his head again. If you can, then you might want to get down here before they set them loose.

"Set what loose?" he spoke the words he thought aloud.

The perimeter drones. You set off an alarm as soon as you entered our airspace.

What alarm? He'd not touched a damned thing. His wings flapped, slow and steady as he peered around. "I don't see anything." Did she screw with the yokel from the swamp?

Again with the stubborn not listening. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The spoken thought had barely finished when he heard the hum of a small engine. Whipping from the west perimeter, the matte-painted drone zipped quickly toward Brandon, the only true indication of its presence a pinprick of red light, a laser sight locked on his chest.

Shit.

He flapped his wings and drew himself higher, yet the drone's aim remained locked to his body. He'd have to prove trickier if he were to stay out of harm's way.

Flattening, he arrowed toward it. The red dot hit him in the forehead. Brandon stretched his arms wide.