Epilogue
“Go ahead.You can admit you were wrong,” he teased. Artem leaned against the wide doorway to their new nesting wing, a smug smile curling his mouth. He watched his mate tiptoe into the huge, circular room, her head tipped back to take in the sprawling skylights he had built into the ceiling as a surprise for her.
Typically, a dragon’s nest was enclosed, with no windows save for whatever was necessary to access a perch from which to lift off, but he knew how much his mate loved the sky, so he squashed his instinct to give her a view she would never get tired of.
It took nearly six months to finish planning their new dwelling, knocking down most of the old structure, and building a new, sturdier one in its place. It was the blink of an eye, but to him it felt like a lifetime. Artem didn’t like not having a dwelling in which his mate could feel secure, nor the fact that they were forced to stay in a temporary dwelling on the property during the construction, but it was necessary.
He pored over every inch of their new dwelling, making it as perfect as he could for her. A new lab was built to her exact specifications and supplemented by a generous grant provided by the Weather Service at the sovereign’s personal request. Taevas had gone ahead and declared Artem a member of the diplomatic service anyway, despite his remote location, so the sovereign had taken an extra interest in seeing to his mate’s needs.
Not that Artem needed them to look after Paloma, of course, but it was the principle of the thing.
He built their dwelling to withstand anything the world threw at them. The walls were sturdy, sigil-reinforced stone. The deck was replaced with a dragon-grade perch, designed to take the weight of his and their offspring’s bodies taking off and landing. The dwelling was three times as large as the old one, too, though he bowed to his mate’s wishes and kept some of the bones of the old structure.
The brick in the kitchen, a holdover from the ancient mining shack, remained. As did the chicken coop, though it underwent a considerable upgrade. Artem had more or less taken over the flock, since they listened to him more than they did Paloma, and he liked to pamper his girls.
But the thing he was most proud of was the nest.
Artem watched his mate turn in a slow circle, her expression one of slack-jawed awe. Paloma hadn’t seen it since it was little more than beams and stone. He made sure she didn’t, because he wanted this to be a surprise.
The nest was the heart of the home. As the dragon of the relationship, it was his duty to provide a nest his mate could feel safe and comfortable in at all times. If she were a dragon, it would have been a more collaborative effort, but Artem enjoyed doing it on his own.
This was his gift to her.
Paloma honored him with her choice and by saving his life. Twice. Giving her the most luxurious nest he could imagine wasn’t a hardship.
“Artem, this is…” Her voice was a whisper, as if she worried that speaking too loud would make the nest disappear.
Easing away from the doorway, Artem walked across the room to press his front against her back. His tail clasped her ankle as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “This is a real nest,” he finished for her, all smug satisfaction.
He was damn proud of it. Their nest was a sight to behold — not that anyone besides their offspring would ever see it, of course.
A massive, circular space, it was the crown jewel of their dwelling. The ceiling was domed and high enough that, should he wish to, he could transform into his larger shape and still comfortably move around.
Sunlight streamed in through the skylights during the day, and at night, soft, nearly invisible strips of lights glowed around the perimeter of the ceiling and floor. They could be dimmed on command, giving the nest an intimate feeling despite the soaring ceiling.
The walls were a soft white and covered with colorful tapestries his clan gave to them as mating gifts. Silken threads wove together to depict the ’Riik, their clan’s history of rise and fall and rise again, and, the most treasured of all, their mountain — a gift from Taevas himself. The last was particularly huge and had pride of place over the true nest, a sprawling sea of pillows and luxurious blankets spread over a mattress that took up nearly the entire floor.
There was an ensuite bathroom, of course, as well as two closets for the clothing he’d finally had shipped over from his apartment in the ’Riik and all the things he’d bought for his mate since they met. It was smack in the middle of the dwelling, too, so Paloma could get to her lab quickly in an emergency and he could protect their offspring, whose wing connected immediately to theirs, in less than a handful of seconds.
Not that they had offspring yet, of course, but he was thinking ahead.
Paloma leaned her head back against his shoulder to gaze up at the ceiling once more. “You’ve built us a cathedral! I can’t believe you actually put in a domed ceiling!”
He laughed. “A nest should be a place of worship, don’t you think?” Artem dropped his hands to her hips and gave them an appreciative squeeze. Dropping his head to rub his lips against the column of her throat, he added, “Should we get started, treat?”
He felt her shiver of delight even as she shook her head. “Taevas wanted me to look at the readings on the r-siphon, remember?”
Artem began to slowly walk them toward the nest, one hand dipping to the waistband of her shorts. “You don’t work for my cousin.” He gave her tender throat a delicate scrape with his fangs. “Come on, treat. We have a nest to break in. Don’t you want to appreciate all my hard work?”
Paloma let out a long, familiar sound. Desire was a warm, heady scent in the air as he slid his claws under her clothing to tease her. “Well, no, I don’t work for him, but he asked for my help with the—”
“To the underworld with my cousin,” he growled, stroking her hot, slick skin with the pads of his fingers. “I’m going to be between these thighs for the next several hours, so he’s just going to have to wait.”
Paloma giggled, but only for a moment. As soon as he stroked his fingers over the tight bundle of nerves he’d come to know so well, she gasped, her hips rocking forward with undisguised need. “Okay, yes, I can clear my schedule.”
He huffed against her throat before he spun her around. “Trust me,” he muttered, easing her down into the fortress of softness he built for her, “when Taevas has a mate, he’ll understand the delay.”
Paloma welcomed him into the nest with open arms, her legs falling wide to cradle him as he enfolded her in the semi-darkness of his wings. Looking up at him through the fringe of her lashes, she smiled crookedly. “Gods help the poor creature who ends up with your cousin.”