Noah's Boy-eARC (42 page)

“We could get married,” he said. “And I could visit. I have some savings. I can fly up every other weekend.” Hell, judging from how happy his mother had been when he’d brought home a female guest last night, his parents would probably pay for it. He’d seen the glimmer of the hope of grandchildren in his mother’s eye. It was a powerful force.

“We’ve only known each other a couple of days. How can you know—”

“I know,” Rafiel said, and looked into her eyes, and found an echo there. “And so do you.”

“Yes,” she said. And sighed. “But it’s so strange.”

He shrugged. “When it’s right, it’s right. Don’t worry about strange. You can come up here a few times, too. We should look for a place. We can’t live in my parents’ basement.”

He became aware of a shadow over their table and, looking up, became aware of a middle-aged, vaguely Asian but much too tall and green-eyed man glaring down at them. “Bea,” the man said. “Bea, what in hell do you think you’re doing? I had to trace you out here, and I—”

“It’s okay, Daddy” she said. “This is Rafiel. We’re going to get married.”

“Oh you are, are you?” The man reached down and grabbed the front of Rafiel’s shirt hauling him to his feet. “I suppose this is the price required to leave me alone. Well, you can think again. I’m not going to have my daughter marry some triad member dragon shifter.”

“I should hope not,” Rafiel said primly, looking down at the hand on his shirt as though he were confused about why it was there at all. He looked up and into his future father-in-law’s eyes. “I’m a lion shifter. And a police officer.”

* * *

It was the sound that made Tom look up—or at least the lack of sound. The entire diner had suddenly fallen silent, and Tom turned to look and saw a middle-aged Chinese man enter. He was bruised, and he looked exhausted, but his glare had clearly caused the silence in the diner. His glare and the sense that he was a larger-than-life personage, which accompanied him even now when, logically, Tom knew he wouldn’t be able to shift.

Tom stared, unmoving, while the Great Sky Dragon pulled himself up onto a stool. The man stayed quiet long enough that the noise in the diner started up again, a babble of voices just a trifle too loud.

He narrowed his eyes at Tom. Tom looked back. He deliberately did not sense the older dragon, did not use any of his new knowledge or his new powers. Internally he was trying to figure out how things would go. He came up with—and discarded—the idea of pretending he had lost all his powers and that the Pearl of Heaven had done nothing. But the Great Sky Dragon would have seen and sensed the call to the fight of every other shifter. And he was not a stupid man.

“How may I help you?” Tom said.

“You may tell me,” the Great Sky Dragon said, “how we stand. Am I still the father of all dragons or—”

For just a second, Tom caught a glimmer of fear in the older dragon’s eyes.
Oh,
he thought. Aloud, he said, “You are indeed the father of all dragons. I want no power of yours. I went a long way not to have it.”

Dark eyes looked unblinkingly into his. “Why?”

Tom shrugged. “It is not part of my life plan to tell thousands of people how to live. I’d rather live…and be myself.”

The Great Sky Dragon’s mouth twisted to a wry smile. “You might not get to,” he said. “The threat from the stars…that is, from other worlds—”

“Will be dealt with, if it becomes serious again. I understand the people from the stars think in a very long scale. It could be centuries.”

The Great Sky Dragon inclined his head. “So you intend to let power go.”

No,
Tom thought.
I intend to let it stay. Stay untouched and unclaimed, until I need to claim it. Till then it can abide and let me be Kyrie’s husband and a father.
But he just inclined his head in a half affirmative.

“Then,” the Great Sky Dragon said, “we will not interfere with each other.”

Oh, good. A noninterference pact,
Tom thought wondering how long it would last. “That suits me.”

“Very well then,” the Great Sky Dragon said. He slid off the stool, heading out the door at a faster pace than his age and recent death should permit.

Tom cleared his throat and saw that Anthony was close by, looking at him with concern. He smiled reassuringly at Anthony and glanced over the diner. “So,” Tom said, “I think that’s Bea’s father.” He nodded towards the man sitting in animated discussion with Rafiel and Bea at a corner table. “I went over to bus the table next to it, and I heard him say something about his moving his vet practice to town.”

“How good that would be,” Anthony said. “It’s not like this lot doesn’t need a vet.” His phone rang, and he fished in his pants. Then he pulled off his apron. “I’m taking three days off. My wife has started contractions.”

“Right,” Tom said, picking up the apron and putting it on. “Good luck.”

He took Anthony’s place at the grill and prepared several platters, then rang the little bell on the counter. Kyrie came to pick up the orders, and Tom smiled at her, “You’re not doing too much, right?”

She glared at him. “I’m pregnant, not sick.”

Tom opened his mouth to say morning sickness might come later, but before he could, a voice from near the counter said, “She’s pregnant?”

Tom looked up and into the stunned face of his father. “Oh. Hi, Dad. Yeah. Kyrie is pregnant, but we were going to get married anyway, so…”

His father sat on one of the bar stools. He was frowning slightly, as though trying to solve a puzzle. “Is that dragon kitties?” he said. “Or kitty dragons? Will it be a litter?”

Tom looked up and down the counter. All three people at it were shifters. He sighed. “No. They’ll be human. Children whose parents are different types of shifters aren’t shifters at all.”

“Oh.” Edward Ormson looked ridiculously disappointed. He sighed. “No wings?”

“No,” Tom said, repressively. “What will you have, Dad?”

His father looked at the menu. “Bowl of red,” he said, following his custom of ordering in old diner lingo.

“Tomato soup? This early in the morning?”

“It’s almost eleven,” Edward Ormson said. “And can I have a grilled cheese sandwich on the side?”