A Dragon's Treasure

17. Iris Whitlock's Aura

THIRTY YEARS EARLIER...

CASSIAN

Inside a bakery outside of Wales, Lord Cassian Alwyn bent down to observe the assorted pastries at the bottom shelf. The puff pastry full of a golden custard was calling his name, but the sweet aroma of scones filled Cassian's chest as they were being pulled from their oven. As she worked to the side, Cassian watched one girl shake a dusting of powdered sugar over a chocolate cake. Already with his hands in his pockets, Cassian found two gold coins and rubbed them together, summoning more money from his horde at home.

He always had enough money.

Cassian just never had enough.

There was a hole inside of Cassian and no matter how much treasure, foods, or pleasure he gave it, that emptiness never filled. Cassian often wondered if life was always going to be this way. Never being satisfied. Always searching and hinting for the next thing to add to his horde. Was that why dragons lived so long? Because they never found anything worth dying for.

"There are too many options, right?" A woman spoke up from behind Cassian with an American accent and an American loudness. "It all just looks so good."

Glancing behind his shoulder, Cassian found a tall middle-aged woman wearing cat eyed sunglasses in-doors and a Chanel white wool suit with a jacket and skirt. White-blonde hair cut into a bob with soft curls. Her red lipstick glossy, this woman smiled so wide, and held her dainty chin with matching red nails.

Her aura flickered.

Greener than a lawn after fresh rain.

This woman wanted something, and she wanted it now.

Cassian turned away, hoping his lack of an answer was enough. It was not. She took a step to stand right beside him. A lingering floral perfume traced her skin, like a dandelion standing in the sun. She said, her voice sweeter than all the desserts behind the glass, "If you don't get the custard, I will."

Sighing, Cassian turned to the cashier and asked for only a croissant and a cup of black coffee. The gold coins in his pocket transformed into a gold credit card before he handed it over.

As he was leaving, the woman said, "The custard please and one of those cherry turn overs. Thank you so much. Do you have napkins—? Oh, I do appreciate it."

Cassian left for the nearest park, sitting on a bench to take a sip of the coffee, the acidity hitting his tongue and curdling inside his stomach. Cassian grimaced and took a bite out of the croissant, which was fine, but would've been better covered in icing.

"If you wanted something sweet..." the woman said, the prettiest looking stalker Cassian had met in sometime. It was not odd for greedy humans to search for dragons in hopes of gaining access to their treasures. This woman had a hand on her hip as her pastry bag dangled by the hem of her skirt. "You should've just asked. Life's too short not to ask for what you want."

"I didn't ask," Cassian grumbled and took another gulp of his disgusting coffee and attempted not to gag.

"That's what I'm saying. You didn't ask—"

"No, I didn't ask for your opinion."

Her smile widened, curling at the sides like the Cheshire Cat. "My name is Iris Whitlock and I need your help."

"I didn't ask for your name either," Cassian said and glanced around her aura a second time. The Whitlock name was infamous. There had been whispers about a curse that was taking about their line bit by bit and he also unfortunately knew about Iris. A professional finder of things. A "do-er" for hirer. If asked, Iris Whitlock was famous for getting anything done.