A Courtship of Dragons is a M/M Romance short novel (approximately 60,000 words) told in short scenes, between two young dragons, Estenarven kin Boulderforce Clan Stoneheart and Mastekh kin Rainstorm Clan Flowflight. It’s pure fluff ‘n’ stuff and not intended to be anything other than that.
|| First Part || All Parts || Last Part ||
Sorry this is late! I was crazy busy yesterday and just plain forgot. Sorry! Especially since this is my favourite gift too. Ah well, it’s here now. Hope you enjoy.
32
Fifth Gift
“AND CAH…CAH…come back any… anytishoo! Anytime, anytime at all. Always wuh…wuh…wel-tishoo! Welcome.”
Mastekh smiled and waved and tried not to look too obvious as he all but ran out of the glasshouse, relieved to leave the dank, humid air behind, along with the sniffling Tempestfury who was allergic to storms and crackled with static every time she sneezed. Which was often. Mastekh’s right arm had gone completely numb after he’d been zapped repeatedly during his short time in the glasshouse.
However, when he looked down at the glass dome clasped between his hands – and the specimen within – the whole debacle was worth it.
“What a precious thing you are,” he cooed to his prize and, hugging the dome to his chest, hurried through the storm-chilled hallways towards Elder Blazeborn’s suite. Hopefully he’d return before Estenarven and have time to hide his latest treasure.
The last two evenings had been a wonderful gift in their own right, filled with the luxury of spending so much time with Estenarven, touching, kissing and talking, so much talking. Mastekh had fallen asleep with his head on Estenarven’s chest last night, drifting away to the sound of his deep voice. Contentment wasn’t anything Mastekh had ever known he was missing, but now that he had it, he deemed it the most precious gift he’d ever received.
Not that Estenarven would agree to list that as one of his seven. No, the silly Boulderforce insisted on doing everything properly, but Mastekh would always count Estenarven’s faith and belief in him as well as his trust and the contentment he evoked among some of the most wonderful gifts anyone had ever given him.
Then again, Mastekh refused to count saving Estenarven’s life as his precious gift either – on the reasoning that saving a life wasn’t something Mastekh would ever choose not to do or to somehow take back, so it wasn’t a gift. Which was why he had spent much of the afternoon in the greenhouse with a sneezing, staticky Tempestfury.
He just hoped Estenarven would deem it worthy.
Biting his lip, Mastekh peered down at the dome cradled firmly in the circle of his arms and smiled. Even if Estenarven didn’t want it, Mastekh would keep it for himself – and count it as one of Estenarven’s seven gifts. Just let the stubborn Boulderforce argue against that.
Laughter echoed down the corridor as Mastekh paused before the door of Elder Blazeborn’s suite. Taking a quick glance in either direction, he fetched the key from his pocket and slipped quietly inside.
The room was dark, save for the flickering of the fireplace and two lone candles. Mastekh studied them curiously – they were such a human thing; glow globes were much more efficient – but since Estenarven wasn’t in sight, he hurried into his own room and shut the door.
“That you, Puddle?” a call came from across the suite.
Panicking, he threw a blanket over the dome and hurried back out again. “Yes, I’m b-back,” he said, smiling as Estenarven stepped out of his room.
Eyes widening, Mastekh dropped his gaze to the Boulderforce’s feet and slowly ran it all the way to the top, mouth gaping in astonishment. Estenarven, as tall and broad and beautiful as ever, dressed in the finest human evening attire. Highly polished shoes gave way to snowy white stockings, which were tucked into the pale-grey knee breeches that elegantly clung in all the right places. The top of him was resplendent in a matching waistcoat beneath a pewter velvet swallowtail jacket. The whole ensemble was completed by a frothing waterfall of white lace at his throat.
His face was set in a solemn expression that was much belied by the teasing glint in his eyes.
He looked magnificent.
Fearing he might drool, Mastekh quickly closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “What is this?”
“Happy fifth gift, beloved,” Estenarven purred, executing a courtly bow in the finest human style. “Dinner is now served.”
More next week!
Take care, my lovelies.
Becca Lusher 
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