She couldn’t tell whether he was alarmed or awed. “Thank your brother for that. He teases me with flight. Now it haunts my thoughts.”
“Like this?” Incredulous, he reached out to touch the statue, then dropped his hand as if the gesture was sacrilegious.
She flushed and looked away.
“Nay, my lady, no cause for shame. It is our greatest desire that you should fly.”
“I would imagine so since it’s the only way your kind can reproduce,” she said dryly.
It was his turn to redden. His lips pressed tight. “Does Navarre meet your needs or is there another one us you’d more willingly couple with?”
She sensed his discomfort, but didn’t know how to salve it. “Sex has never been casual for me. You speak of it as a chore.” Altarre continued to look uncomfortable. She hurried on. “Look, I don’t even know if I want children.” Lord, she was only twenty-eight. “I might not be an empath, but I know you’re desperate for them. Nobody’s bothered to explain anything to me or ask me how I feel about it.”
A functional blocky chair rose out of the “grass”. Altarre sat, gaze thoughtful. “Our apologies. Ask away.”
Adrianne sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, facing him. “How do you reproduce?”
“Copulation and fertilization occur dragon to dragon in an aerial mating. The female dragon produces eggs two months after that. The eggs are laid in a warm cushioning spot and incubated by the mother and other dragons for another six months at which time the dragonets hatch. They remain dragonets until approximately five years of age. Of course, some learn to change sooner, others later. Queens continue to mate and reproduce as long as they are fertile.”
She tried to not let her distress show. “How many eggs?”
“Clutches were much larger in times past. Upwards of thirty-six were not unheard of when we were a young race.”
“Thirty-six!” she squeaked.
“Easy, lady, you’ll distress the others.” Altarre glanced nervously at the panel. “I am not certain how much I should be telling you. The situation, your discovery, has not been discussed between us yet. Of late, clutches have been no bigger than one or two, with three being a large clutch.” He rushed on. “And you don’t show the pregnancy in human form. I think that evolved to camouflage the pregnant, and hence more vulnerable, Dragoness. You would still feel pregnant, I am told.”
“You’re told? Have you ever seen a pregnant Queen?” Her voice remained at that nervous elevated pitch. This was the Dragoon’s healer, basically her doctor now, and he was all but admitting his inexperience.
Altarre’s brow furrowed. “Navarre and I were out of the last clutch.” He stood and the ugly chair from Neolithic hell vanished. “I’ve distressed you.”
“Distressed me? Scared me is more like it.” She stood up and paced the length of the room, Altarre watching her warily. “Eggs? I pass eggs?” She shuddered. “Have any of you ever seen this happen?”
“Our last clutch was a century ago, your time.”
She reeled back, glad for the stone dragon maiden’s support. Navarre was one hundred years old? How old did that make Benito?
“Many of us are reaching the end of our reproductive ability. It is for that reason we rush you.”
“Right. No pressure or anything.”
“Throughout our history, Dragonesses have been notoriously fickle. Partner swapping is not unacceptable.”
Leaning against the wall, she put her head in her hands and took a moment to still her warring thoughts. What they took for normal ran completely against how she’d been raised. She lifted her head.
“Tell me what you think.”
“I do not understand.”
“What would you do if you were in my position?”
Again, the wary look came into his eye. “You and my brother seem to companion well.”
“That’s because I know him. Like bloody reincarnation or something. I don’t understand it, but I’m beginning to accept that.” She approached him and he took a few steps out of her reach. She paused. “Do you think I could hurt you?”
“I can heal others but not myself. You are in a very volatile mood. I should get Navarre.”
She dropped her outstretched hand. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said softly. Of course he was afraid of her. She stopped runaway planes and cracked glass. “Are the others afraid of me?”
“They are cautious.” He reached out then to touch her arm. “I would not step in Navarre’s way. I am content to let him claim you.”
“I don’t want to be claimed by anyone!”
“Easy, lady.”
She didn’t realize she was shouting. “What do expect me to do? You ask me to leave everything I know and trust you. I’m here, aren’t I? Now I’m supposed to just calmly have sex with everyone, get pregnant and pass frickin’ eggs. Do I look like a caged bird to you?” She felt like one. The room was too still. She needed air.
The panel slid open and Navarre stood in the doorway. He looked as if he had been sleeping. His hair was mussed and his shirt lay unlaced as if he’d thrown it on in a hurry.
She turned to him. “Get out!”
The coverlet on her bed danced, rippling in the storm of her emotions.
“Come here.” He held out both hands to her, palms up.
“I broke glass without even touching it, without even trying.” The words came out almost half sobbing. “What the hell am I?” She kept out of his reach.
Altarre scurried to the safety of Navarre’s side. “I will leave you two alone. Good night, Dragoness.” The panel closed behind him.
“I never asked for this and I don’t want it!”
Navarre stepped toward her.
“Stay away from me.”
He caught her up in his arms. She fought him. The wardrobe teetered and collapsed into a puddle of gray goo around them before either of them could be hurt.
“You are our Queen. Act like it.”
She caught her breath. “Damn you.”
There was a flush to his tanned skin. His eyes gleamed so brightly she no longer could see their pupils. She closed her eyes. He ran his hands up and down her arms, agitated.
“Altarre is very sensitive. You do him harm.”
She didn’t want to hurt Altarre. She truly didn’t. “I’m sorry. I…he’ll be okay, won’t he?”
“Yes.”
She sagged against him then, her cheek pressed to his bare chest. She could hear his heart hammering, but he kept his thoughts guarded from her. That was fine with her. She had enough to sort through herself.
She heard the panel open and Benito’s voice. “All is well?”
Navarre stiffened. She pressed tighter against him. She would not be pushed away again. “As well as can be expected,” he replied.
“Dragoness, we will keep Altarre away since he distresses you.”
“No, wait.” She pulled away from Navarre, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her clothes as best she could. “He spoke the truth. He was the only one who took the time to. I don’t want him punished.”
Benito paused, waiting.
Here was her chance to prove herself. “Do you keep your history written down?”
Benito blinked. “Yes, of course.”
“I think I need to learn how to read it.” She wanted to understand all their past, not just the parts they wished to share with her. “You must keep your history somewhere in the ship?”
“Yes. Vespero can teach you to read.” Benito seemed surprised by the request.
She hesitated, glancing at Navarre. “And fly. I need to learn how to fly.”
“Navarre has already been chosen to handle that. He has enough tenacity to prevent himself from being killed by your emerging gift’s flare-ups.”
“You were thinking tantrums,” she said distractedly. It was time to trust those who had sworn to protect her. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I should have someone teach me self-defens
e as well.”
“You are safe here,” Navarre protested. “I will protect you.”
“And if I should become separated from you?”
“I will not let that happen,” Navarre said, his face drawn tight.
She lacked the strength to argue with him.
“Quince is the best,” Benito said thoughtfully. “We should have discussed your future sooner. I apologize. I was unaware of how you would react.”
She waved off his suggestion. “Who else is capable besides Quince?”
“We are all capable,” Navarre cut in. He stood with his arms folded, legs spread slightly apart as if in a fighting stance.
“Quince’s days of fertility are few.”
“Can’t you freeze it?” she asked, exasperated. “Save it to be artificially inseminated in some future Queen?”
Benito shook his head. “We have tried.”
“I can’t help him.”
“You choose not to.”
“I will not be tossed from man to man like a pampered toy. Nikki—”
“She is of little importance in the grand scheme.”
She gritted her teeth. “You idiots.” She wanted to stamp her feet, say she hated them all and storm off. If they were used to Queens killing cheating boyfriends, a tantrum should seem tame.
Benito sighed. “Henley then. Keep in mind, Dragoness, there are many who seek your attentions and who would be happy to step in the moment your Chosen falls from favor.”
She raked her hand through her hair. “No, it’s Navarre.” She searched Navarre’s face, quietly certain she had seen it a thousand times before, in a previous lifetime or perhaps only in her dreams. It was a face she could trust, a mind that lay open to her if she willed it. “It will always be Navarre.”
Navarre’s gaze was unreadable. She glanced away.
“I suspected as much,” Benito murmured. “Always is a long time, Dragoness. And Navarre but a stranger to you.”
“Yes, I know.” She glanced at her watch, shocked at the time. How long had she remained enthralled in her sculpting? It was nearly three a.m.
Benito took note. “It is late. You should get your rest. We will take our leave of you.”
“But, Navarre—” she protested.
“All is calm,” Benito interrupted. “Navarre can be of little assistance to you now.”
He was wrong about that. She needed Navarre’s strong arms around her. She wanted to press her cheek to his chest again and hear him murmur soothing words to her. But she wasn’t a child. She was their Queen and they expected more from her. Too much, part of her cried out. She kept herself rigid.
“I am sorry I woke you,” she said to Navarre. She forced herself to meet his eyes.
His words were formal but his gaze was possessive, maybe even a trifle triumphant. Hadn’t she claimed him as her lover? “I will always come if you call.” Taking her hand, he turned it over and pressed his lips to her palm. “Sleep well, my Queen.”
They left her.
Her hand tingled where he had touched it. She laid her palm against her fluttering heart and closed her eyes.
He would come if she called. He had promised so.
She pressed her lips tight. She’d caused enough trouble for one night. Tonight, she’d sleep alone.
Chapter Thirteen
Nikki was grossly unaccustomed to living with a man. Especially with a man as gorgeous and unassuming as Quince. When she stumbled out of the bedroom at noon after catering a party that ran until four in the morning she was totally unprepared to find Quince sprawled out on her plush white carpeted living room floor. The smell of sugar wafted through the apartment. She opened the oven. Something that looked suspiciously like pancakes were stacked on a plate on the middle rack.
She glanced at her countertops. Spotless. She peeked in her sink. Empty as well.
“Your breakfast will grow cold if you continue to leave the oven open,” Quince said.
She dropped her hand. The oven door slammed shut. Quince had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching her, dark eyes unreadable.
It was too early in the morning for her to make brilliant conversation. A half a pot of coffee waited for her on the counter. She carefully took a mug out of the cupboard, poured herself a cup of coffee and drank it down black.
“You are not as lively in the morning.” Quince seated himself on a stool beside the counter.
His hair was damp and he smelled like her soap, peppermint mixed with that natural primeval scent nothing seemed to mask. Her fingers itched to run through his hair and see if it was really as silky as it looked. She carefully set down her mug. “You did this?”
A smile briefly touched his lips. He glanced around the apartment as if to say, “Who else?”
“Smart ass.” She opened the oven again. “Smells wonderful. I didn’t know you could cook,” she added inanely. “Thank you.” She reached for the plate.
He caught her wrist so quickly she missed him getting off his stool. “It is hot. Sit.” He offered her his place, then fished out the plateful of food, oven mitt in hand.
She sat, bemused.
Placing the plate on a trivet, he handed her a fork. “In your current state, I hesitate to give you a knife.”
“Very funny.” She hacked at the pancake-like stack, then shoveled an unladylike biteful into her mouth. “Mmm, what’s in this?”
He gave her a napkin. “You do have cooking ingredients in your pantry.”
“They’re Adri’s.” She, herself, never had the time or the urge to cook. The patties sort of tasted like pancakes, but they had a crusty exterior like waffles, and tasted sweet enough that they didn’t require syrup.
“Will tonight be as late as well?” he asked.
“Bar closes at two.”
“Your group last evening was entertaining.”
She wondered what he thought about last night’s private party. A group of sixty-something-year-olds with a foot fetish, it was not the first time she’d catered a party for them. She spent the evening making pots of coffee and mixing drinks only to watch the drinks be drizzled over someone’s big ugly foot, and licked off.
Okay, that was unfair. Not all the feet were ugly. The boot with the red leather spiked six-inch heel was chic. She’d even inquired where she could get a pair like that.
Quince had remained discreetly in a corner of the room. Dressed in black, he passed as a bouncer. No one questioned his presence and she took that as a good sign. Although she could have removed any one of the partygoers herself had any crossed the line. The old men were the ones to watch and she’d learned early on in her career to watch her ass, quite literally. She could evade a probing hand while carrying a tray-load of drinks on spiked heels better than a diver dodging sharks.
“What do you think of my job?” she asked around a mouthful of food. Now that she had a little bit of food in her stomach, she took a moment to savor another cup of coffee. He had added something to that as well.
“Does it please you?”
“Obviously or I wouldn’t still be in business.”
“Then my opinion is of little concern.” He stood and padded back on bare feet to tidy up the living room.
Heart be still. If she got a chance to see a body like Quince’s every morning, she just might think about becoming a morning person. Nah. She rose, cradling her cup of coffee. “I told you that you could use Adri’s bedroom.”
“The floor suits me.” He picked a decorator pillow off the floor and set it back on the couch.
“There’s my room as well.” A broad hint and a scary one at that. She shared her bed with no one. How’d Quince manage to circumvent that rule without ever knowing it even existed?
Quince turned to her. “Do you not wish to become acquainted first?”
She shrugged. “Sex without strings suits me fine.”
“It is not our nature to give so lightly.”
“That will suit Adri just fine then.”
He m
ade no response.
She followed him into the living room and perched on the arm of the couch, her bathrobe hiked high to reveal a lean expanse of leg. Quince was discreet, but she caught his peek.
“Okay then, tell me about yourself. What would make you feel more comfortable with me?” She watched him over the brim of her cup as she sipped. “Mmm and what’s in this?”
“Cinnamon.” He sat on the now-tidied couch, just out of her reach, and crossed his legs. “You have had many lovers.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, not knowing where he intended to go with that.
“I have not.”
“Oh.” A little thrill ran through her. She loved experienced men, but there was also something special about teaching an innocent lover. Although Quince’s kiss had been far from chaste.
“Why have you not chosen a mate?”
That startled her. She set the coffee cup on an end table. “I like men,” she said simply.
“A couple at ease with one another is more apt to explore.”
She shook her head. “Oh baby, that’s not true.”
“It is,” he insisted.
She slid off the couch’s arm and onto his lap. “I bet I could show you a thing or two.”
Quince kept his hands off her, one arm resting against the headrest, the other propping him up against the couch’s arm. “And I could bring you to orgasm without laying a hand on you.”
Nikki batted her eyelashes, then gave up when Quince appeared unaffected. He really meant what he said. How intriguing. “Okay, you win. So, do you want to date?” She cringed at the word.
“You will share your bed with no other if you choose to share it with me.”
“Yikes, exclusivity.” She put her hand to her heart. “That’s asking a lot. Can’t Adri sleep with whomever she chooses?”
“She is our Queen.”
Nikki stood, tucking her robe around her. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that queen part and everything,” she said dryly.
Quince caught her wrist and pulled her back onto his lap. His arm settled around her back. The other kept her wrist prisoner. “She has many responsibilities.”
“Promiscuity being one of them. Good luck with that. Adri’s not very adventurous.” She twisted in his grasp. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
The Last Queen Page 13