The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas (An MM Monster Christmas #2)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

A very’s dragon wanted to hum with pleasure. He stared at Jack looking out the window. The snow would last for days. Jack would be staying in his home, snowed in with Avery, stuck in his den. It pleased his dragon.

But the other part of Avery’s mind, the rational and non-primal part, told him this wasn’t a wonderful occurrence. After all, Jack didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be stuck with Avery. Jack didn’t want Avery.

Still, Avery’s dragon relished Jack’s presence. Avery stared at Jack’s broad back, wrapped in his robe.

Mine. Mate.

Avery closed his eyes and tried to calm the dragon prowling around in his mind.

No. Not mine. And definitely not my mate .

Jack did not belong to him. Jack did not want him. He would be gone as soon as the snow cleared. And that would be the last Avery ever saw of him.

The dragon inside him snarled.

Avery let out a breath, trying to calm himself.

But perhaps this was an opportunity. Perhaps over the next few days, they could spend time together. Perhaps Jack would change his mind and realise how happy they could be together.

Then he’d want Avery.

It was pathetic. It was desperate. But hope rekindled in Avery’s chest.

I will just make him comfortable and happy in my home, as a guest . And if during that time, Jack changes his mind about me and decides he wants me after all, then that would be a wonderful bonus.

“Maybe I should show you around.” Avery rose.

Jack turned towards him. “All right.” He looked so good in Avery’s robe. Was Avery’s scent rubbing onto Jack’s skin?

Avery hummed, chest vibrating. Then he walked to the door and into the hallway. His heart leapt into his throat. Because Avery was taking Jack to his most precious possessions, to his treasure, to his library.

At the door to the room, Avery paused, hand on the brass handle. He glanced back at Jack, nervousness skittering along his skin. His father didn’t like his library, too unorganised, too chaotic, too obviously a dragon’s hoard. Not a civilised dragon’s collection at all.

But it was everything to Avery. He wanted Jack to like it.

With a swallow, Avery pushed the door open. “This is my library.” He strode forward. And even with the anxiety pulsing through him, pleasure rushed through his veins.

My hoard. My glorious, magnificent hoard.

Rows and bookshelves filled the room. But in between and all around, piles of beautiful books were everywhere Avery looked except for a large space by the fire where he would curl up in his dragon form.

Avery’s skin tingled. He inhaled, and the smell of leather, dust, and paper filled his nostrils. The words called to him. The stories beckoned. They were all precious to him, each and every one of them. They contained stories, tales, research, information, recipes, journals, and encyclopaedias. And they were all at his fingertips.

Mine.

“Bugger me,” Jack muttered.

Avery spun towards him, body tensing.

Jack stared in awe at the library around him. “Have you read all these books?”

“I…no.”

Avery should have. He really should finish reading all the books he had before acquiring more. That was always his plan.

But he just couldn’t help himself. Every time he passed a bookstore, it called him by name—“Avery, Avery”—and who was Avery to resist? And it was never only one book. He needed to buy two, or three, or twenty. So many books existed in the world, and he needed them. They had to be his.

Avery looked around at his failure to control his primal dragon instincts. He whined softly.

But how could he control those instincts? He wanted all the books. Even now he felt the craving to go out and find more treasure and bring it back to his den. He wanted the room to brim with books until he could barely move, until he had to crawl over the piles, until he could sleep in his dragon form curled up on top of mounds and mounds of books.

Avery breathed out.

“I’ve never seen so many books in my life.” Jack approached a pile.

Avery followed him, only a step behind. Jack glanced at him. Did Jack know what it was for a dragon to show someone their treasure, their hoard?

“Can I?” Jack reached out to a book. He waited for Avery to respond.

Holding his breath, Avery nodded. He wanted Jack to touch his treasure; he ached with the need.

Jack picked up a book. A corner of the cover had been torn off.

“Careful,” Avery whispered. But he needn’t have worried; Jack held the book with such care.

“I’m surprised.” Jack opened the book.

“Surprised? About what?” Avery stepped towards him. Then stepped back. He shouldn’t crowd. Or hover. That was rude. It was just that Avery was too eager for Jack to be impressed by his treasure.

“This book is…a little battered.” Jack tilted the book from side to side.

Avery’s fingers twitched. “Well…yes… But that doesn’t matter,” he said a little defensively. “It called to me.”

“Called to you?”

Avery nodded. “I saw it in this bookshop on the outskirts of town. And this book had been sitting on a pile that was for sale. The bookseller said he had trouble selling them because they were not in good condition. I picked this up, and I opened it.” He took the book from Jack’s hands with great care. Silly Tails for Werewolves . He opened it to the front page. “To my own little werewolves. Love, your mother and father,” Avery read the inscription.

Avery ran his fingers over the faded ink. “I imagined them, the little werewolves.” He smiled at Jack, whose brown eyes steadily watched him.

“Werewolf children are known to be very rambunctious. I imagined the children grabbing this book, carrying it to their mother, begging her to read it.” Avery huffed. “I imagined them fighting over the book, dropping it, not out of a lack of love, but out of an excess of exuberance and desire to hear the tales within.”

Avery paused. “This book was precious to someone, to a family. It meant something to them. It was a part of their lives and their story. It was loved,” Avery said intensely. “How many times did the mother and father read this book to their little werewolves?”

Avery looked at Jack. “This book shouldn’t be thrown away because it was damaged. It needed to be treasured and cared for. Do you see?” His words rushed together as he babbled. But it was so important that Jack saw it!

Jack stared at him, gaze pensive. “I see.”

Avery let out a breath. He felt a little light-headed. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Do you want to read one?”

“You don’t mind?” Jack glanced around.

Avery tried to contain his eagerness. He immediately failed. “You can read whatever you like! Any book you are interested in, you can read it! Please!”

Jack smiled at him. Then he wandered through the shelves and piles, looking at the books. Avery tried not to loom beside him, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see Jack’s every reaction, every twitch of facial muscles. He needed to know which books Jack liked and which interested him.

“There are so many.” Jack touched the spine of a book. “I don’t know how to choose.”

“I can choose one for you,” Avery offered, once again standing too close to Jack. He took a step back. “What would you like to read?”

Jack considered. “Something about dragons.”

Avery smiled. “I have lots of books on dragons.”

“What’s your favourite?”

Avery’s eyes widened. “I can’t choose a favourite!” That would be cruel to the other books! “I have many favourites.”

“All right.” Jack chuckled. “Choose one of your favourites, then.”

Avery stood perfectly still for a moment. Then he went in search. He picked up book after book. He bit his lip. He frowned. How could he choose a single book for Jack to read? It was too much pressure! He wanted it to be a good book, one he’d love, one that would dig into his soul and take root, sprout, grow, and flourish for all eternity.

Such an important decision could not be rushed.

He glanced at Jack, worried he’d be impatient. But he stared at Avery, seemingly content to just watch him search.

“Here,” Avery finally said, returning with a book. “This is called The Ancient Dragon and the Brave Knight. It’s interesting. Or I think it is.” He touched the cover. “It’s about a dragon who lives in a cave. He has lived there for many years all alone. Then a knight comes to slay him and make a name for himself, but instead—” He stopped himself. He didn’t want to give away the ending. “I like it. It’s a romance. Do you like romances?”

“I do. Ordelia used to read them to us on cold winter nights.” Jack took the book and sat down in the armchair by the fire, Avery’s favourite armchair.

Happiness boiled up inside Avery at the sight of Jack, in his chair, by his fire, in his den, holding one of his books!

Mine.

Dropping down onto the floor, Avery sat staring up at Jack, his body humming with pleasure, struggling to sit still and not bounce with glee.

Jack glanced at him. He hesitated. “Do you want me to read to you?”

Avery paused. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just wanted to watch Jack read. That had been all Avery wanted. But for Jack to read to him…

Every stitch and fibre of his being yearned.

“Yes,” Avery hissed. He’d never had this, never had someone to read to him. He couldn’t put into words how much he wanted it now.

“All right.” Jack opened the book. “There was once a dragon…”

Avery leaned forward, watching Jack’s beautiful lips move. The words that Avery had read many times before caressed him. Jack’s deep, warm voice wrapped around him. Avery took a deep breath, hanging on to each and every word.

After several minutes, Jack paused. “Sorry if I’m not the best reader. My mother and father taught me to read. I didn’t have fancy tutors or go to a proper?—”

“You’re amazing,” Avery cut him off. “Amazing!”

Jack froze. Then he smiled. Avery’s heart seemed to grow until it filled his chest and he thought he’d explode with joy.

Then Jack continued to read.