"You need a distraction, Eros published the lux aestatis," Calek said as he returned to his chair. Whistling, he picked up a slim, glossy publication.

Drach scoffed. The practice of paying for mates or renting wombs disgusted him. Desperate to propagate their lines, many royals championed this vile custom. He didn't. If he was meant to find a mate, he would. He sure wouldn't buy one.

"For the love of Smaug, don't tell me you're considering—"

Calek's washed out blue pupils flashed and his skin paled to match his hair. Jagged silver lamina armoured his forehead and jaw. "It's my gold to spend as I see fit. I won't hoard it like you. As it is, you claim half of my stipend to invest, make me donate a quarter to the wryn. The rest is mine. And yes, I have urges and am considering buying a bedmate."

"You will not bring shame upon our name. Spit it out. What's ruffled your scales now?" Drach asked with feigned patience. Tru to form, his brother acted out when he was upset.

Calek's fair skin turned red and he yelled, "You buy me a palace and then turn it into a destination venue—for humans! How dare you! That too, without my say so? "

"I stepped in because you were mismanaging the property. It was too big for you and you squat here, so I put it to work, for you. Given your expenses, you should appreciate the extra funds, especially as you plan to establish a harem." His indifferent reply calmed Nix down.

In an instance, Calek's prune complexion lightened and he rolled his eyes. "As I trust you to manage my affairs and protect my interests, I allow it. Forget not, I stay here for your sake. Else you'll turn into a recluse. As it is, the staff quake in their boots with fear. Isolating yourself isn't healthy."

Drach scoffed. His brother refused to grow up and rode his coattails. If he didn't curtail Calek's spending, he would flitter away his fortune. On what? Throwing orgies and sponsoring sycophant leeches seeking handouts. He'd protected his sibling all his life and feared his weakness for the excesses, and human vices would ruin him.

He sipped his drink while Calek ignored him to focus on the magalogue that ought to be outlawed.

Once Drach refilled the goblet, he growled. Without looking up, Calek touched the cut glass surface. Icicles crackled on the surface of the brown liquid. Ice melted around Drach, unless created by a Draco Glacie.

His brother flicked through the pages. "Oh, another giraffe cat." Then he paused and chuckled. "That's an awful photograph... and she's a mere companion. Someone has a high opinion of themselves. Who, in their sane mind, would pay that much when she can reject suitors after stringing them along? For a fraction of the cost and time, I could hire a female to bear me an offspring."

"It's her choice. Eros swindles both parties—the patrons and the fools who choose to become slaves."

"I disagree. So does Harold. He's thrilled with his new mate, and she's given him four pups so far. She only cost him five kilograms of gold, and they're happy together. He considers it a sound investment. She thinks he's the cat's whiskers. You insult the candidates. For the record, they aren't slaves, but willing participants." An outraged Calek waved the folded magazine. "This one's a gangly kitten on stilts with bat ears. And a solitary feline breed, which means she'll be feral at worst, difficult and moody at best."

Drach caught a glimpse of the photograph.

Before he knew it, he plucked the magazine out of his brother's hand to study the monochromatic close-up. The female had startling features. If she wore makeup, it didn't cover the dusting of freckles. Their placement mimicked the dark stripe of fur present in her beast form. Some dotted her button nose. But it was the wide round eyes, with spindle pupils, that commanded his attention. Dense lashes cast a shadow on her sunken cheeks.

Attor stirred within Drach's skin, slithering as he uncoiled his length.

Unsure what it was about her, he imagined her irises were golden, with amber webbing. The flecks could be any color. Her pupils had contracted into narrow slits. A sign of fear. Or a reaction to bright lights.

Drach turned the page and found her full-length portrait.

Wide pants that hid her long legs that seemed to go on forever. The draped sleeve of the thin throw jacket couldn't hide her sparse, slim frame. She'd chosen the cream, linen fabric which suited her sandy complexion.

He smiled at the tips of her pointed ears peeking out of the thick but rather short wavy hair that tickled her jawline, and emphasised her graceful neck.

Yet her plump lips, pressed together, spoke volumes... of her displeasure.

'She's uncomfortable,' Attor snarled, upset by the female's apparent chagrin.

"Forget her. There's another way better suited." Calek leaned forward and found the page he was referring to.

The female he showed Drach was beautiful and regal, an apex predator. The brief description proved his assessment correct. A lioness. Yet the gown, jewels, and furs were all too much. She was trying too hard. But Calek wasn't wrong; she was better suited.

"If you're interested, I can arrange for tickets for a private viewing."

A knock interrupted them. Two butlers arrived with trays, placed them on the side tables near the chairs, and lifted the cloches. The aroma of roasted boar and ram permeated the room.

Calek grabbed a piece with his hand, popped it into his mouth, and then licked the glistening butter off his fingers.

Drach smacked his immature brother's hand and gave him a fork.

Calek tried to snatch the periodical back, but Drach moved it out of his reach. His gaze returned to the image. Something about the unnamed female fascinated him.

"Wow, you're keen. What is it about her?" Calek asked.

"Them eyes..." The moment the words left his lips, Drach bit his tongue.

After a brief stunned silence, Calek clutched his midriff and cackled so hard icicles flew out of his nostrils. "Say that again, I beg you. Such music to my ears. What was it? Something about 'them eyes'," he howled.

Drach ignored the buffoon of a brother.

"By the fires of Olympus, the gods have spoken. You're not perfect. Not only do you have terrible taste... the best you came up with was 'them eyes'." Calek guffawed while spraying plumes of fog from his nose.

Drach had enough and seized Calek by the cuff to toss him out of the room before locking the doors. He observed the servaloid for a final time and threw the offending rag into the fire.

Calek would never let him live the careless comment down. Her photoshopped likeness, most likely, manipulated beyond recognition, had stripped him of his usual equanimity. He watched the pages curl before turning to ash, erasing the face that mesmerized him.

He'd rather witness the ruination of his weyr before he ever participated in an auction organized by the disreputable House of Eros.

It didn't help. He couldn't erase the haunting gaze that'd seared itself on his retinas.

As usual, Calek's visits brought him nothing but heartburn. Now that the dolt had moved it, Drach doubted he'd have any peace.

Translations

Drach (Middle High German alt. trache) Dragon.

Calek (Turkish) Brave warrior or loyal follower.

Attor (Anglo-Saxon) Poison

lux aestatis (latin) Summer's gems

Author's Note:

So what do you think of Drach? I am not big on making a gallery (except of beast forms) but who do you picture for him?

Did you enjoy your first peek of the dragon shifters? Or not? Either way comment to let you know what you think! 

Finally, is the pace is picking up? Yes? No? I somehow feel until I post the first fifteen chapters, its still early days but I really tired to pick up the pace in this story. Or did I fail? Maybe I am made to write slow burns. IDK.