His growl shook the floor.
It shook her too. She tugged at her hand and after a moment he let her go. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the olive oil and bits of garlic congealing on her plate. The silence between them became weighted, sulfurous.
The quick rhythm of booted heels sounded in the hall. Graydon rounded the corner to the dining room in jeans and a Harley Davidson jacket. “Hey, boss, I got what you wanted.” He stopped and stared from Pia’s distressed face to Dragos’s darkening expression. “I’ll just come back—”
“No.” Dragos stood in a swift movement. “Give it to her and stay with her. I’m going for a flight.”
A flight, at a time like this? She looked up and said, “Dragos, no.”
His reaction was immediate. He jerked to a halt and looked at her.
“The Fae King,” she said. “He can still trace you. It’s not safe.”
She could tell it was not what he wanted to hear from her. The darkness came back to his face. He said with deliberate brutality, “I’m a lot safer on my own.”
She flinched and looked away.
Dragos looked at Graydon. “I’ll be in telepathic range.” He strode out.
“What does that even mean?” she said. “Telepathic range. Anybody I know with the ability can only speak if they’re within a few feet of each other.”
“Dragos has a range that’s more like a hundred miles,” Gray told her.
She pushed her plate setting away and put her head in her hands.
Graydon sighed and came to sit beside her.
“I’m sorry,” she said into her hands. “I know you don’t want to be here.”
“You shut that up,” he told her. “I’m fine with being here. I just think it would be better if Dragos were here instead.”
She looked at the gryphon over her fingers. He had picked up the bottle of wine and was eyeing the liquid left inside, his weathered features contemplative. The bottle was about a third full. He tilted back his head and drank it all down.
She said, “Feel better?”
“No,” he said. “That would take a bottle of scotch. Or two. Been one of those days, know what I mean?”
She nodded. Yeah, buddy, she did.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gold-wrapped package. Giving her a grimace, he put it in front of her. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to go like this, but okay. This is from the boss.”
She stared at the slim package. “Is it going to blow up in my face, like everything else has today?”
“I dunno. It might, judging from what I just walked in on.” Graydon flattened his hands on the table and stood. “Be right back.”
She picked up the package and tore off the paper. The black case was inscribed with TIFFANY & COMPANY. The sense of the bizarre came back stronger than ever as she opened the lid.
A necklace nestled on ivory velvet, a ring of opal cabochons set in gold. The opals were bigger than the size of her thumbnails and had a multihued brilliance unlike any other opals she had ever seen. Tears prickling at the back of her nose, she set the case down and lifted out the necklace. It spilled over her fingers, the stones flashing with intense colors in the candlelight.
Graydon appeared with a bottle of scotch under one arm. He carried another opened bottle in his hand. He nodded when he saw the expression on her face and took a drink. Then he came around the corner of the table and sat by her side again. He slid the opened bottle over to her.
Johnnie Walker Blue. Alrighty. She took a healthy swig and looked at the bottle. Damn, that stuff was smooth. Cutting it with ice would just be wrong.
“A dragon just gave me a piece of jewelry,” she said. She took another swig and handed the bottle back to Graydon. “Have I been added to his hoard?”
He shook his head and drank too. “No, cupcake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced it.”
SIXTEEN
S
he stared at the gryphon. “What do you mean?”
“He’s downsizing. He’s decided to sell some businesses, and he’s making plans to either vastly reduce the size of his hoard and move it, or shit, I don’t know, maybe he’ll ditch it altogether. Says he wants to get rid of the ‘white noise.’ ” Graydon rubbed his forehead. “I guess maybe hell really does have a cold day now and then. Doesn’t sound like he’s quite right in the head, does it?”
Her eyes glittered wet. Looking alarmed, he reached out to pat her hand, then seemed to rethink the gesture.
He said, “I know he’s not a romantic guy. I mean having me just hand you your present and all. Even I know that was lame, but I think he’s tryin’. There’s even nice flowers on the table and shit . . .”
His voice trailed off as she just looked at him. He offered her the bottle. Her stomach gave another inexplicable lurch. She shook her head. She folded her napkin and whispered, “I need a friend to talk to.”
The gruff gryphon’s voice turned gentle. “What am I, chopped liver? You beat the crap out of me this afternoon. That pretty much makes us pals in my book.”
She picked up the necklace again, turning it so that it caught fire in the light. “I did not beat the crap out of you.”
“If you had one mean bone in your body, you could have,” Graydon told her. “Now Rune’s scouring the city for a Wing Ding expert for us to train with. We’re all gonna learn to go with the flow or whatever the fuck it is you said you did. Think we’ll look as pretty as you did doing it?”
“Not a chance,” she said, smiling as she looked at him sidelong.
His steady gray eyes smiled back. “That’s what I said too. Con, though. He thinks he’ll look like hot shit, but then, he always does. Guy spends an hour every morning getting his hair just so. I’m tellin’ you. Hair styling products for men? That’s just not right.”
She chuckled. A companionable silence fell between them. She played with the necklace while he sprawled in his chair and drank scotch.
“So,” the gryphon said at last, “tell Uncle Gray all about it. Dragos hurt your feelings or something?”
“Wow, that would be simple,” she said. “Been there, done that, going to do it again sometime soon, I imagine. He said he might be mating with me.”
“Oh,” said Graydon. “That.”
“Yes, that.” The words started tumbling out of her. “We’ve known each other a matter of days, and he’s taken over my life. He demands I trust him, claims that I’m his, like I’m some piece of property. He doesn’t even know what I am and it’s driving him crazy.”
“Well, none of us know that, cupcake. We can’t figure you out and you’re not inclined to talk about it.” Graydon drank some more.
“I have my reasons.” She shivered. “And I’m a half-breed. It’ll kill him if I can’t make a full change.”
“So you two talk about this and he walks out,” said Graydon. “Doesn’t sound quite right.”
“Well, no. He said I had to make up my mind about what I wanted fast, so he could try to let me go. Then he said he wasn’t sure he could. Then he left. Meanwhile there’s the Fae King to deal with, and this is all so strange.” She waved a hand in a gesture meant to include everything. “I barely know anybody here, and it seems like I’ve already stirred up hard feelings. Everything my mom taught me was to run and hide. This isn’t running and hiding. This is insanity.”
“Hey, don’t go all 90210 on me,” said Graydon. “Let’s pull back from the curlicues for a minute and untangle things. Urien has to be dealt with, and he’s a dangerous fact of life at the moment, but he’s not part of the real issue, is he?”
After a moment she shook her head.
“Okay. Now, who hates you? None of us do. You’re sure as hell a game changer, and I’ll admit it took us by surprise. We didn’t take kindly to the idea at first and some of the sentinels are still grumpy about it. But we’ll adjust. Changes happen. That’s not to say there won’t be others who’ll have issues if you mate with Dragos. He’s very powerful, financially, politically and magically, and I won’t lie to you. Court politics can get pretty spiky. You gotta know that’s part of the package.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, remembering the woman outside the gym. She described the woman to him. “That’s one of the sentinels, isn’t it? It looked like she’s got a real hate-on going for me.”
He tapped the tips of his blunt fingers against the bottle, frowning. “That’s Aryal, and yeah, she’s one of us. She doesn’t exactly hate you. Harpies just aren’t known for being real forgiving types. Give her time. She’ll come around.”
She nodded. “Tricks mentioned some hotheaded predators.”
He grinned. “Yeah, there’s a lean and hungry pride of Wyrlions in the corporate law division. They bring a comprehensive new meaning to the word ‘bitchy,’ but they have their place. If anybody gives you any trouble, all you gotta do is let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a wry look. She didn’t say it, but if she was going to make a go of living here, she would have to fight her own battles and carve out her own niche.
He said, “This might be hard, but it’s all simple at the same time. You know what it boils down to. Do you want Dragos or not? Do you want him bad enough to overcome what your mom taught you and let your guard down, to put up with all his shit, the Wyr Court, and deal whatever the future holds? Or do you want to run away and leave all this behind? That’s all you gotta figure out. The rest will work itself out over time.”
She tried to imagine running away and starting over. She could go south. She would be alone. She knew without ever discussing it that if she said good-bye to Dragos, there would be no second chance. She said, “It’s all happening so fast.”
“Often the Wyr mating bond does. I’ve known times when it has happened the moment two Wyr laid eyes on each other. Now, there were some bumpy roads.”
“Have you ever known of the mating bond to happen to one person and not the other?”
He blew out a breath. “That’s a tough one. It’s a lot trickier if a Wyr bonds with a non-Wyr like a human, since non-Wyrs don’t go through the same experience we do. As for Wyr mating, I remember once a couple hundred years ago it didn’t take right. At least I think. Were they going through the bonding process or were they just fucked-up? She killed herself when he wouldn’t have her.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “That’s awful.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What if I remain mortal?”
He shrugged. “Dragos doesn’t appear to be running away because of that. Will you deny yourself a mate and the chance of happiness just because you’re gonna die someday?”
“That’s different. I’m going to die one way or another if I can’t change. It just seems terrible to think that Dragos would die because of me.”
He hunched his shoulders and watched his hands as he turned the scotch bottle in circles. “There aren’t any guarantees in life. Just because some of us are exceptionally long-lived and call ourselves ‘immortal’ doesn’t mean we can’t be killed. I would jump at the chance to have a mate, mortal or otherwise. Most of us would, you know. We never expected it to happen to Dragos, but I bet you every last one of us is thinking what a lucky son of a bitch he is.”
They fell silent again. Then she slid her hand over to touch the back of his. “Thank you, Gray. You’re a good listener and a wise man.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingers. “Shh,” he whispered over her hand, eyes crinkling. “Don’t tell anybody.”
She smiled at him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
She was tempted to change into gym clothes and spend an hour on a treadmill, but then tiredness swept over her. It had been another long day and the gryphons had already given her quite a workout before Dragos stopped them.
Over Graydon’s protests, she put the necklace back in the box, cleaned off the dining table, put the leftovers in the large stainless steel refrigerator and rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. Then she decided to wait for Dragos’s return in the library. Rune came to join them as she browsed through the volumes.
She greeted him, picked an early history of the Wyr and curled up to read in a large leather armchair. The chair was the most battered piece of furniture in the room, the dark brown leather buttery-soft and bearing a faint but unmistakable familiar masculine scent. She could just imagine Dragos relaxing in this seat as he read his scientific journals. Rune and Graydon respected her unspoken desire for privacy and settled across the room to play chess.
After a while she let the book rest on her chest as she closed her eyes.
A gentle touch on her shoulder woke her. Rune squatted by her armchair, his eyes kind. She sagged back in the chair and yawned. “Time’s it?”
“After two,” he said. “You look beat. Why don’t you go to bed? Better yet, Dragos said he’d stay in telepathic range. You could call him back if you wanted.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to do that. He needed some space. He’s had a tough day. And I don’t want to go to bed without him.” Her eyes started to drift closed and she forced them open. “Unless you guys need to go to bed?”
He smiled. “We’re up until he gets back. Don’t worry about us; we’re fine.”
She nodded and felt soft warmth as he tucked a cashmere throw blanket around her. “Thank you.”
“Thank
you
, Pia.”
He walked back to the chess table and Graydon. She closed her eyes again. Soon she was walking in a very old forest, breathing in its fresh loam scent. A small, pearly, luminescent dragon lay draped around her shoulders like a stole. She stroked a graceful sinuous leg, and the dragon lifted up his head to look at her with beautiful, dark violet blue eyes. She was full of emotion as she looked into his wide-open innocent gaze.
I love you
, said the little dragon.
She kissed his delicate snout.
I love you too, peanut.
She came full awake with a start and sat up, looking around. For a moment she felt disoriented and abandoned as she put her hand to her empty throat and shoulders.
Graydon and Rune watched her from across the room. Both men were wide-awake and alert. Graydon said, “What is it?”
She shook her head. “Just a dream.”
They stood. “What kind of dream?” Rune asked, eyes sharp.
She frowned at them, not wanting to share it. “Nothing happened. It was just a dream.”
They both looked toward the ceiling. “Dragos is back,” Graydon told her. “He’ll be right here.”
“Okay,” she said, hurt that Dragos hadn’t reached out to her telepathically and determined not to let it matter. Now was not the time to develop a thin skin. In fact, as long as she remained in the Tower she ought to jettison any delicate sensibilities she might have altogether.
Dragos entered and the atmosphere in the room turned electric. He looked invigorated. He glanced at the gryphons and jerked his chin toward the door, and they slipped out as he strode over and squatted in front of the armchair. She gave him a tentative smile as he leaned his forearms on the chair’s arms and regarded her. His gaze was moody, his mouth tight.
“It’s almost four A.M.,” he said. “If you wanted to avoid my bed that much, you should have crashed in one of the other rooms.”
Her smile vanished. She struggled to sit upright and pull the jewelry box out from under the open book. She threw the box at him. Impossible to miss at point-blank range. It smacked him in the chest.
“I was waiting up to thank you for the gift,” she snapped. “That you, oh, by the way, didn’t give me yourself. Move.”
He stayed crouched in front of her, eyes narrowed.
She stuck her face up to his, giving him a full-on glare. She bared her teeth. “I said move out of my way.”
He snatched her against his chest and drove his mouth down on hers. She struggled, managed to get one arm free and smacked him on the shoulder. He grabbed her by the back of the head to hold her still as he devoured her. She mmphed against his mouth and gave him another, weaker smack. He wedged her lips open and drove his tongue in deep.
Damn him! She wound her free arm around his neck and kissed him back furiously. All the electricity in the room shot into her body in one thunderous strike.
After a moment he eased up, turned gentler. She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and bit him hard.
He jerked back, gold eyes flaring. He touched his lip, looked at the smear of blood on his fingers, and his face creased with laughter. He said, “You liked me kissing you.”
She didn’t try to deny it. “Well, there’s a whole lot happening over here besides that. I’ve got quite a bit of angry still going on. Not that you asked. Did you come in here looking to pick a fight? How do you expect me to trust you when you act like such a pig?”
He didn’t like that and glared at her. Struck by the strength and ferocity of the expression, she stared at him. If she were meeting him for the first time and he looked at her like that, she would be spinning on her heel and on the run before you could say Kentucky Derby. How things had changed.
His hold loosened on her. He eased back on his heels. She straightened and inspected the open book that had gotten crushed between them. Some of the pages had gotten creased. She smoothed them out and then set the book on a nearby table. All the while she was focused on him crouching too close in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her anger wasn’t so quick to die away just because he knew how to say the word “sorry.” But she didn’t want to start escalating things again, so she just nodded. Maybe waiting up to talk to him had been a mistake. She avoided his gaze as she folded the throw blanket and draped it over the arm of the chair.
“Pia.” She looked at him. He held the jewelry box out to her. “I have a present for you.”
The starch keeping her spine ramrod straight melted. Damn him again. “Do you?”
He opened the box and lifted out the necklace. Gold and rainbow fire glittered in his dark fingers and was reflected in the gleam of his eyes. “I wanted to see how the opals would look against your skin.”
“It’s a beautiful present,” she told him. “Thank you.”