Chapter One
Seph finished out his day and headed back to his downtown apartment to shower and change clothes. He settled on a casual pair of charcoal-colored linen slacks and a burgundy cashmere pullover sweater. He could count on Mal to show up in leather pants and chains to fit his rock star status. Father is going to love that, Seph thought, remembering the first time his brother wore a concert T-shirt and a pair of jeans riddled with holes to a family dinner. Father had ordered his rebellious son to go up to his room and not come back down until he found a decent pair of pants and a clean shirt. Seph had to chuckle to himself. And then Mal came back, still in his punk duds, with one of Drew’s suits on a hanger that he draped on his chair like it was sitting down to eat with us, proclaiming that he’d “found” the suit, just like Father told him.
A limousine waited for Seph at the curb when he stepped out of his building. His father’s personal driver stood beside it. Seph broke into a grin. “Fritz! I didn’t realize Father was sending you to pick me up.”
The older man tipped his chauffer’s hat and smiled. “I have orders to retrieve all the boys,” he said. He opened the door and Seph peered inside, seeing his four clutch mates already occupying the bench seats. Drew and Vann each had glasses of single malt scotch from the bar, while Mal – unsurprisingly – drank from the bottle. Don seemed more preoccupied with his smart phone, the screen’s glow reflecting off the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Hey, there he is!” Drew said.
“Get in here,” Vann said, moving over and slapping the spot beside him. He whistled at Mal. “Yo, Metal Head! How about a drink for our brother? Preferably from a bottle you haven’t put your mouth on.”
Mal took another swig of scotch while giving Vann a middle-finger salute.
“It’s okay, I’ll get my own,” Seph said, climbing into the car. As Fritz closed the door behind him, Seph helped himself to a splash of vodka. The limo began to move and Seph settled back for the ride. He glanced around at his siblings. Drew and Don had opted for the same conservative attire favored by Seph, trousers with button-down shirts and casual jackets, short hair well-groomed. Father will approve, he thought. He looked at Vann, who had twisted his light brown locks into a man-bun to go with the hipster scarf around his neck; a green plaid shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and bulging biceps, and his straight-leg jeans had been turned up at the ankle. Seph pursed his lips. He might pass inspection – barely.
His attention shifted to Mal. As predicted, Mal had chosen tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and a leather vest to show off the tattoo sleeves running the length of his lean but muscular arms. His sandy blond hair had been dyed black and framed his lean face like a lion’s mane. He had as much metal in his ears as he did on his fingers. Father’s going to love that, Seph thought, hiding his smile behind his glass as he took a sip.
Conversation remained light and work-related, for the most part. Soon, the city lights began to disappear. They rode along dark, winding roads leading upstate toward the rolling hills of country estates built with old money by the nation’s industrial pioneers. Vovin Steel had been one such business. Their great-grandfather had come over from Europe and opened a forge which produced some of the materials used to establish railroads, and construction materials for buildings still standing in parts of the city. The family fortune continued to thrive under their father. Seph knew Father had always hoped at least one of his sons would have followed in his footsteps and assumed management duties; instead, he allowed them all to find their own paths. But he had also warned them all that a day might come when he would hand over complete control of the Vovin empire to one of them. Maybe that’s what this is about, Seph thought, as the car glided through the opened gates and made its way toward the manor house. He’s going to choose one of us, tonight. His eyes cut to Drew. More than likely it will be him. He’s a D.A., his experience with the law will come in handy.
Seph did not share his speculations with his brothers, deciding to let this play out as he often did with his clients during therapy. Observe, consider, and then give your opinion. His initial thought was that he would not contest their father’s decision unless for some reason he picked Vann or Mal. I would have to give my professional assessment that he’s out of his mind for choosing one of them.
They were greeted at the door by one of the servants. Like Fritz, Paul had been with the family for a long time and had been trained as a proper British butler. Seph smiled at him. “Good evening, Paul. How have you been?”
“Good evening, sir, and I am quite well, thank you for asking.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “If you will all please follow me; I have orders to escort you directly to your father’s study.”
“Whoa,” Mal said, chuckling. “Father’s not wasting any time – usually we get The Talk after we’ve had dinner.” He arched an eyebrow at Paul. “There…will…be dinner, right?”
Paul responded with a thin smile. “Of course, sir,” he said. “Normally, the evening meal is served promptly at six, but tonight your father has asked that it be pushed back to seven.”
As they passed the open doors to the dining room, Seph peered in and saw only one place setting prepared. In the past, he knew the china would already be put out, and all the polished silver arranged accordingly. He jerked his head. “Are we not invited to join our father for supper?”
Paul walked ahead of them to the study. “Again, as part of your father’s instructions for this evening, the number of place settings would increase dependent upon ‘who chooses to stay after hearing what he has to say,’ to use his exact words.”
“Do you know what this is all about?” Vann asked the butler. “Because we’re all in the dark.”
“I am not at liberty to say,” Paul replied, and it was true – anything Father confided in him, he had always been sworn to keep secret. They stopped at the closed double doors, wood carved with elaborate images of wyverns circling over a forest. Paul looked at the brothers with a wry smile that creased the skin at the corners of his eyes. “But if you do choose to leave, Mrs. Carson has already insisted upon preparing boxed meals for you to take with you. I believe she even made some of her popular snickerdoodles to include in the package.”
“Good old Mrs. Carson,” Mal said, echoing the sentiment they all shared for the house’s cook. She had always taken good care of them, referring to the clutch mates as ‘my boys’ and shooing them out of her kitchen whenever they would try to sneak in and steal her delicious cookies fresh out of the oven.
Paul slid the pocket doors apart and stepped aside to allow the five siblings to make their way into the room. Father’s study had always been a source of mystery; his private space where he conducted business and held private meetings pertaining to matters of both Vovin Steel and Tamerlane. Seph recalled many times throughout his childhood, watching his father sequester himself in this room with great men of power, including world leaders. He would often be tempted to listen in on their conversations, but Father had always ordered the staff to keep the kids well out of dragon hearing range. Maybe if he had let us get a glimpse of what he did, we would have shown interest in joining him in running the forge.
Cyril Vovin, patriarch of the family, stood in front of the huge marble fireplace with his back to them. He always dressed impeccably; tonight, he wore a dark suit and leather shoes polished to reflect the light of the flames dancing in the hearth. The fire’s glow filtered through his thick, salt and pepper curls, giving him the appearance of a religious icon. “My sons,” he said, and his voice had the same rich, smoky timbre that could strike fear into the hearts of any who dared to cross him, but which could also offer comfort to those in need of reassurance. Once a tall, foreboding figure, he now looked thinner, the years beginning to show, but he still carried himself with regal bearing. He pivoted and smiled, the lines in his chiseled face looked deeper than Seph remembered from his last visit. Cyril’s dark green eyes shimmered with affection as he regarded his brood. “Welcome home.”
“Well, Father, the suspense is killing us,” Vann said, cutting right to the chase. “Why did you call us back to Tamerlane?”
“Do you know why it’s called ‘Tamerlane?’” The elder Vovin walked over to his favorite antique armchair with the gilded claw feet, sat down, and picked up a cigar from the ashtray on the table beside it. “It’s from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe, about a Turkic conqueror who lost the love of his life.” He looked around at the walls and high ceilings with their beautiful tapestries and woodwork shaped by the finest craftsmen. His gaze settled on the large portrait of a gorgeous woman with serene blue eyes, a kind smile, and blonde hair falling over one pale shoulder. “I gave it that name in honor of your late mother, Mara, one of the loveliest human women to ever win the heart of one very stubborn Dragon.”
Seph glanced over at Drew. Father rarely talked about their mother since her death many years ago. The boys had just celebrated their tenth birthday when she collapsed in the garden. The cancer had spread quickly and within months she was gone. With all his power, Father could not save her. Seph remembered how she and Father would often argue, and once she had announced in front of a houseful of party guests that she had regretted giving up her career as an architect for marriage. The doctors had said it could have been the brain tumor making her say things she didn’t mean. Father would have forgiven her, anyway, because he had loved her so much.
As with most dragons who lose their mates, after Mother’s passing, Father had become withdrawn. He had refused to eat or to come out of the bedroom they had shared. Finally, after a lot of coaxing from his own clutch mates – particularly his three sisters – Cyril had rallied. He still had many good years ahead of him and while he could have fathered another clutch, he had never sought another partner. To him, Mother had been all he had ever wanted.
It was his father’s devotion to his late wife that had inspired Seph to go into counseling Dragon and Human couples. Maybe the doctors had been right about the tumor, but Seph remembered how sad Mother would get long before she had been diagnosed. Sometimes, he would hear her talking to Mrs. Carson about missing Father when he would go away on long business trips. I don’t want others to go through what they did, he thought. He smiled up at his mother’s portrait and felt a pang of sorrow. For two people who loved one another, their relationship lacked a key ingredient: happiness.
Now, Cyril blew on the end of the cigar, and the heat of his breath caused it to smolder and then transform into a glowing ember. “I will not hold you in suspense a moment longer,” he announced. Taking a long draw from the cigar, he reached for a brandy snifter on the side table and exhaled the smoke into the glass, where it settled in a coil above the liquid. “After much consideration, I have decided to relinquish my position at Vovin Steel and seek retirement – and in doing so, I will be passing on control of the company to one of you.”
Called it, Seph thought with a smirk. He cleared his throat. “So, which one of us did you have in mind for the job?”
“That depends on you.” Cyril swirled the brandy before taking a sip. He swallowed and licked his lips before setting the glass aside again. Crossing his legs at the knee, he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and regarded Seph. “And by ‘you,’ I mean ‘collectively.’”
The young men all gathered closer to their father, standing before him in a semi-circle. “What do you want us to do, Father?” Drew asked.
Cyril puffed on his cigar. “It has come to my attention that not one of you has produced an heir,” he said. “By your age, I was already married and beginning a family, as is common for our kind. Dragons are all male, as you know. While some Human women are genetically compatible with our race and can bear our eggs, we alone have the power of transformation. If we do not breed, we die out as a race. So, we must – as they say – ‘be fruitful and multiply.’”
Vann responded with a nervous laugh. “Wait. Are you saying we need to make some kids?”
“That is the long and the short of it, yes,” Father replied. “But more than that, you must find compatible mates, marry, and begin your families properly.”
“All of us?” Mal asked, motioning to his clutch mates.
“All of you,” Cyril confirmed soundly, and tapped his ash off into the tray on the side table with an elegant flick of his thumb. “And just in case you require a bit of incentive, consider this.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and pointed at each of them in turn. “Anyone who does not follow orders will be removed from the family.”
The five brothers responded with a combination of shock and disbelief, expressed through gasps and looks of surprise. “Disowned?” Drew managed to choke out.
“I believe that is what ‘removed from the family’ means,” Cyril said.
Vann spluttered. “You can’t be serious!”
Father smiled at him. “Oh, but I am.”
“This is going to kill my reputation,” Mal muttered, shaking his head.
“Actually,” Don said, speaking up for the first time, “several musicians with wives and families have maintained their popularity, especially with female fans. A man who is faithful to his partner and a positive role model to his children is very appealing.”
Mal snorted. “Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet, bro.”
“In Donnie’s defense,” Seph said, “he’s right. In my line of work, I find that my female clients favor males who can provide for their families.”
Father rose from his chair and tugged at the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. “You’re free to continue this discussion,” he said, “but you would be wise not to waste too much time. I’m giving you all six months to complete the task.”
Seph’s mouth dropped open. “Six months?” he echoed. “Father – with all due respect, that’s not a lot of time.”
“Then you’d better get started,” Cyril said. Retrieving his cigar, he strode toward the door. “I believe dinner is about to be served. If you choose to accept the terms placed before you, you are welcome to join me.” With that, he left the room in a swirling cloud of smoke.
“Jesus,” Vann muttered. He sank into the chair their father had vacated and dragged his hands down his face. He looked up at his siblings. “Can you believe this? I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s going to be hard for you to give up having sex with all your clients at the spa,” Drew said dryly.
Vann gave him a sour smile. “Says the District Attorney who sleeps with his interns.” His eyes widened in a comical manner and he pressed his fingers over his open mouth. “Oh, wait – is that inadmissible evidence?”
Drew glared at him. “I’d still stand a better chance of finding a mate before you could,” he fired back.
This made Mal stop pacing. He raised his eyebrows at his clutch mates. “Hold up,” he said. He stalked toward Drew, shaking a finger at him. “I like that idea.”
“What ‘idea?’” Seph asked, wary.
Mal grinned. “As long as we’re being forced to do this, why not make it interesting and turn it into something fun, like a contest?”
“A competition?” Seph asked. “And here I thought you were the laid-back one who tells everyone to ‘go with the flow.’”
“Yeah, well, Father just changed up that game,” Mal pointed out. He tossed his head, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “That’s why I said we should make it ‘fun.’ Something like…last one to find a wife has to do something for the other four.”
Now Vann laughed out loud. “In that case, I think we all know who’s going to lose.” He swung around to regard Don, sticking out his lower lip in mock sympathy. “The only virgin among us.”
Pushing at the bridge of his glasses, Don scowled at Vann. “You put so much emphasis on physical intimacy,” he said, voice soft but full of disdain. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason you’re all unmarried is because you think of women as sex objects and not as intelligent human beings?”
“Wow,” Vann said, deadpan, “that almost sounds like something a gay guy would say.” He leaned forward, peering at Don. “Is that why you’re still single, Donnie? Do you prefer men over women?”
“I am not gay,” Don snapped. “And even if I was, what difference would it make? There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
“There is, if you want to stay in this family,” Drew said with a grimace.
“Relax, guys,” Mal said. Twisting the heavy silver rings adorning his fingers, he looked around at his brothers. “I didn’t mean for this to get ugly. I just thought it might help light a fire under our asses. You know?” He did a little dance move. “A little…motivation.”
Seph held up his hands. “Sorry, Mal,” he said. “But I have to agree with Donnie. We’re talking about our futures, but we should also take into consideration that the women we choose will be the mother of our children. Speaking from a professional point of view, she should be someone who appeals to us on every level. It’s not just about sex. Mating is all about compatibility.” He rubbed his palms together in a slow circle. “Whoever she is, she has to be the right one.”
“Yeah, well, good luck finding Ms. Right in six months,” Vann said with a bemused huff. He turned to Mal. “Okay, asshole – forget these guys, I’ll take you up on that bet. Good luck finding a groupie who can produce an heir worthy of the Vovin name.”
“Right back at ya,” Mal said, offering his hand for Vann to clasp. He winked. “I know it’s going to be hard for you to narrow your client list down to just the right one, and then hope that she’s not already married!” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Now, let’s go grab something to eat – I’m starving.”
As Mal and Vann left the study, Seph turned to look at the two brothers who remained with him. Don stood with his arms folded tightly across his body, staring down at the firelight as it danced across the patterned rug beneath their feet. Their bond as clutch mates made them empathic to each other’s emotions when they lowered their mental defenses and allowed them to connect on that level. Now, he could feel the frustration and embarrassment rolling off Don in waves. “Don’t let them get to you,” Seph murmured, reaching over to clasp his sibling’s shoulder. “They’re assholes – but then, we always knew that.”
Don let out a light snort, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his arms to his sides. “Some things never change.” Shoving his hands down into his trouser pockets, he wandered out.
Now Drew and Seph stood together, just the occasional snap from the fireplace to fill the silence in the room. “Six months,” Drew mumbled at last. “I’ve worked trials that lasted longer than that.” He looked over at Seph and shook his head. “As busy as I am, when am I going to find the time to look for a wife? And where am I supposed to find one?” He grimaced. “Any suggestions?”
Seph sighed. “When I figure it out,” he said, “I’ll let you know.”