Benito wanted a fortress to befit a Queen. Adrianne cautioned moderation. How were they to explain themselves if the IRS came knocking? They couldn’t keep erasing people’s memories. Someone was bound to get suspicious. And how healthy was it for the people whose minds were erased?
She ate mechanically, half listening to them and half focused on the internal conversation going on inside her stomach. She was surprised none of the Dragoon could hear them.
Navarre tapped the back of her hand with a finger. “Are you well?”
Startled, she glanced at him guiltily. She should tell him. She should tell them all. But it seemed too surreal. She didn’t know if she should be glad or scared to death. She could be wrong. She knew she wasn’t.
“I am fine.”
“Adonthe went to great pains to duplicate this for you. You will make him think you dislike it.”
“It is very good.” She swallowed another bite to prove it to him.
Navarre’s eyes narrowed. “You are a poor liar.”
She felt him press discreetly against her mind’s mental shields, but she’d learned well from him how to keep those barriers in place. “I’d like to speak with Altarre after supper.” She made the decision as she spoke. He was their doctor. Even though inexperienced with pregnant Queens, as an empath he should be able to confirm the baby count.
Concern filled Navarre’s eyes, but his voice was hopeful. “Do you believe… I do not wish to pry…”
Hah! Who was the poor liar now? Every night he slept with her, he laid a hand over her belly. Even his lovemaking, while delicious, was done with care. Nothing like the pulse-thrilling instinct-driven craze that had possessed them after the flight.
Leaning close, she whispered, “We’re going to be parents.” She owed him that much. The word “parent” sent butterflies skittering through her. She pulled back to gauge his reaction. His rare smile was wide and genuine.
She found herself grinning too. “Wipe that silly smirk off your face or they’ll begin to wonder.”
“They already do.”
She caught a few discreet mental queries sent in Navarre’s direction. “Not a peep until I talk to Altarre. Understood?”
He kept smiling.
“I mean it.”
“I am not familiar with the word peep.”
“Damn it, you know what I mean,” she hissed.
“Careful, you will distress everyone,” Navarre said mildly.
How could he know that just a little temper sent the babies into a chittering tailspin? They’d drive her nuts if they only increased in volume and frequency. She glanced around the room.
All eyes were focused on her.
She sobered. “You all need hobbies,” she grumbled to no one in particular. “Adonthe, the quiche is delicious. Thank you.” He’d gotten over his aversion to eggs enough to cook with them.
Adonthe flushed. “You are very welcome, my Queen. If you should develop any particular cravings, I would be honored to fix you a meal at any time of the day or night. Do not hesitate to wake me.”
She considered it progress that she did not blush. “I will keep that in mind,” she said levelly. There were a few polite unsuppressed snickers. She considered that progress as well.
She was both sad and relieved that her parents were no longer with her. Sad, in that her children would never have “normal” grandparents, someone to dote on them, someone who’d let them just be children, sneak them cookies and keep them up way past their bedtime. Then again, explaining to her parents how they happened to have not one but twenty-four grandchildren, and oh by the way, they’ll look like little dragons until they’re five, would have been awkward at best.
Finishing her meal, she laid her napkin on her plate. She stood. “Please excuse me.” She’d never grown accustomed to everyone standing when she did. They murmured various good-nights.
“Do you wish me to accompany you?” Navarre asked, a trace too anxious.
She saw Altarre finish his meal with one large bite and wash it down with a hasty dash of water.
She wanted so badly to say yes. To just have him hold her hand would be comforting. But she didn’t want to appear weak. “It’s unnecessary at this point.”
“Please dispose of the formality with me.” His eyes urged that she reconsider, but he wouldn’t beg.
She might have relented if he had.
He took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. “As you wish.”
Magical words. One couldn’t argue with “as you wish”. Navarre had learned that all too quickly.
Altarre met her in the hall. “It is an honor,” he began.
“Please. If I hear that word again, I’ll scream.”
Altarre smiled faintly. “You do not like being treated as if a dragonet.”
“Not particularly,” she replied irritably. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”
“You have indeed,” Altarre murmured. “This hurdle, though, means the world to us.”
“I understand that,” she snapped.
The voices in her belly stilled.
“I’m sorry,” she began again. “I wish everything wasn’t so life and death with you all.”
“We try as best we can to shelter you from our fears.” He ushered her into a room she hadn’t been in before. It smelled like a doctor’s office, antiseptic coupled with lemon. The lemon had to be Adonthe’s touch. The room was comfortably sized, the walls a pale soothing green, the floor thickly carpeted in white.
Altarre looked nonplused. “It was tile earlier.”
The ship knew what she preferred. She smiled to herself. At least the room didn’t have a stainless steel table with stirrups. It did, however, have an elevated bed.
Altarre patted the bed.
She sighed. “Do I need to get naked?”
His eyes gleamed so much like his brother’s she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. She touched his mind, anyway, trying to snag his fleeting thoughts, but he was quicker.
“That is unnecessary.”
Sitting on the firm mattress, she swung her feet over the side. “Here’s the thing. I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”
If he was thunderstruck by that announcement, he hid it well. “Go on.”
“There’s lots of them.”
Altarre frowned. “More than three?”
“Way more than three.”
“Are you certain?”
“It’s my body, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Now he appeared a bit unnerved. “Well then, let me see how many I can find.”
He didn’t have a stethoscope or a big black doctor’s bag, but she relaxed nonetheless. He’d take care of her. She was surprised how relieved she was to tell someone. She swung her feet onto the table and lay back. Discreetly lifting her shirt, he slid it up to her breasts, watching her for a reaction. She gave him a reassuring smile, remembering he was as new to this as she. He pressed a, thankfully warm, metal box the size of her fist to her stomach.
The seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. He repositioned the instrument several times. There were a few more minutes of heavy silence. Finally, he set it carefully aside. He pulled her shirt down, his face a mask. “How many did you count?” he asked, voice neutral.
“Oh no.” She sat up. “How many did you count?”
He stalled. “It must be inaccurate. The instrument is old and has been unused for a long time.”
“Hybrid vigor?” she offered, swinging her feet over the table and watching him. “I hope you’re shielding your thoughts from the others.”
“Yes, of course.” Each word was forced. She’d never seen him look so puzzled. “I do not know whether to rejoice or be horribly worried.”
That stopped her gloating. “What do you mean?”
“So many and it is your first time.” He passed his hand over his face. “Your health, your safety, it is in my hands.” He held his hands out in front of him, looked at them, then looked at her. “
I am ill-prepared.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Listen, you’re all I got. Read up or do whatever you’ve got to do, but understand this, I need you.”
He dropped his hands. “I am beginning to comprehend the pressure we have placed upon you.”
“Good.” She slipped to the floor and stretched. “I’m going to talk to Navarre now.”
“Wait.” He grasped her arm. “I…there were twenty-three.”
“Close. I heard twenty-four.”
“Heard?” He gripped her tighter.
“Yes, what does your machine do?”
“It counts the number of eggs.”
She thought that through. “Am I supposed to hear them?”
“Only if they have psi talent.”
They stared at each other.
“I need to speak to the others.” He turned toward the panel, but she did not miss his look of alarm.
It was her turn to catch his arm. “You will not! I have to talk to Navarre first.”
“It is not right…we are unprepared to deal with so many.” He blinked and sighed raggedly.
She shook his arm. “Promise me.”
At the moment, he looked a full century old.
“And don’t say ‘As you wish’,” she added.
“All right then.” He raised his eyes to hers. “We can only go forward at this point. Tomorrow I will call a council. You best speak to my brother tonight.”
She nodded. “That’s fair.”
She left him standing in the room alone. She had no way to reassure him. It was time for him to bring his talents to the table. Being an empath didn’t mean he had to be spineless. She expected and needed more from him. Actually, she’d need all of them. They wanted a Queen. Now they truly had one.
Chapter Eighteen
Agent Haynes stared at his report, at least his supervisor said it was his report and it sure as hell looked like his signature at the bottom. Adrianne Harris. Nikki Kitzerow. He racked his brain. No face magically appeared to fit the names. He had a newspaper clipping in the file with a picture of Ms. Harris. A grainy undated photo but surely it would cause some spark of recognition. He held it up, staring hard at it. No, his mind said, he didn’t know the woman. His gut said he did.
What had that woman done to him?
That Agents Lampson and Byers were in the same baffled spot as he did nothing to soothe the growing anger. No, he wouldn’t admit it was fear, not even to himself.
He laid the clipping down and reread his report. He had thought Ms. Harris was involved in something illegal, just what he hadn’t pinpointed yet. He had made an appointment to follow up with Lampson and Byers. He even had a warrant. Then they all found themselves on the shores of Lake Superior, with an empty tank of gas and two days’ growth of facial hair.
What did he know about her?
She or her accomplices stopped a plane sliding sideways down a runway.
She was the sole survivor of a fiery crash and didn’t have a burn on her.
She had somehow hypnotized not one but three armed men and sent them on a joyride to nowhere.
That didn’t make her a terrorist. It pointed to a cult, a very powerful cult. He chewed the end of his pen, an undesirable habit but it beat smoking and at times like this he craved a cigarette even though he’d given up smoking over a year ago.
He had Ms. Harris’ home address, for all the good it did. How many men could she hypnotize at once? He rubbed his temples with his free hand.
“Any luck?” his boss asked, not unsympathetic.
“No.”
He gave Haynes a pat on the back. “Hypnosis didn’t work on Lampson or Byers. They have no memory of meeting her, her house, the case, basically of anything tied to her. Still, the doc wants to try with you. You up for it?”
“Yeah.” He dropped his pen. “Maybe the third one will be the charm.”
“If it’s not, the Feds want to bring in some top secret division.”
His ego growled at that. The other part of him, the part responsible for the thin line of cold sweat down his back, cheered. “Sounds about right. Why bother? She hasn’t killed anyone yet, has she?”
His boss’s eyes narrowed. “There’s been a couple of weird murders in the area since we think she got back. Hotel clerk at the place where her credit card was used, some livestock mutilations in the local county around her. A couple of women are missing but we can’t link that to her.” Yet was unspoken. “And her roommate just turned up missing.”
“This—” He picked up his report. Damn, couldn’t he even keep her name in his mind for a minute without it being erased by some invisible command? He glanced at the report. “Nikki Kitzerow?”
“Yes. One of her employees called it in. Blood all over the place. We don’t have the report back on the blood yet, but there was way too much of it for it to all be hers.”
Intrigued, he leaned forward. “What do you think?”
“Maybe she knew too much. She became a liability.”
Yeah, he wasn’t paid to follow black-and-white lines, but to connect the dots, however far apart. And one thing he knew, Adrianne Harris was dangerous. “Maybe I should drive back there and take a look?”
“You’re being bumped,” his boss said flatly.
“Yeah, yeah.” He picked up the pen again to chew on its end. He should be irritated. Instead, all he could summon was relief. Good luck to team two. Hope they had plenty of candles, salt, exorcists or whatever tools they used. He stood. “Let’s see if the shrinks can pick anything out of my head.”
* * * * *
How did one dress to tell the father of her children, children as in two dozen worth of little dragons, that they were about to almost triple the population of his endangered species?
Gods! She took extra care with her makeup although no amount of primping could prepare her. If she didn’t hurry, he’d come looking for her.
She wore a body-hugging jade sheath that revealed too much leg and décolletage. The stiletto heels accented her muscled calves. She was a fool if she thought that would distract him. A woman could hope, couldn’t she?
She wished she had some time to analyze the butterflies in her stomach. Excited? Nervous? Apprehension? Most likely a combination of all three.
There was a polite rap at her door. Darn, she’d been found out.
At least he’d learned how to knock. “Come in,” she called.
But it wasn’t Navarre.
Benito stood beside the panel, looking both full of pride and uncomfortable at the same time, if that was possible. He held a little silver box between his hands. Her first thought was that she’d make Altarre pay for his breach of confidence.
“I will not ask for details, yet, but I have not seen hundreds of dragonets birthed and flown my own Queen, not to know when another is with child.”
She didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. This must be so hard for you.”
He shifted the box to one hand, then took her hand with his free one. “Do not let my melancholy ruin this joyous moment.”
She folded her fingers around his. His hand trembled just a little, but his grip was firm. How he must miss his mate, his children and grandchildren.
“Benito.” Her voice broke.
He pulled his hand free. “I look forward to being a surrogate grandfather.” His voice was strong and sure, his pain tucked away again. He offered her the box. “Please. This is just a portion of what we saved for our next Queen.”
Taking it, she flipped open the lid. A single large emerald, set in silver and surrounded with winking pale green diamonds, stared back at her. “It’s lovely.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She blamed them on pregnancy hormones.
“May I?” He took the box from her hands, retrieved the choker and set the box aside.
She turned to him so he could fasten it around her neck. It settled with a hefty weight in the hollow of her throat. She couldn’t help herself. She touched it reverently with her fingertips.
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“You will be off to see Navarre now?” Benito asked a bit too casually.
“Yes.”
“Altarre has requested a council tomorrow evening.” He cleared his throat. “I hope to announce that our Queen is carrying two or three?”
Adrianne laughed. “Nice try.”
“Ah, you cannot fault an old man for trying.”
“You were smooth,” she soothed.
Benito brightened and patted her hand. “And you, kind. Tomorrow, we will have the ship move your bedchambers closer to Navarre’s. I do not wish to tire you with walking.”
“Walking is healthy,” she protested.
“Altarre’s room is opposite his.”
“Altarre is worried,” she said.
“As well he should be. Be at peace. He’s healed many a wicked wound.”
“But he’s never birthed a baby.”
“Do you think our first Queen had a midwife?” Benito asked. “You are much stronger than you believe.”
She bit her lip, fingering the necklace. Did one of the former Queens wear it the same night she confessed her pregnancy to her lover? She could picture the lovely Mirium wearing it, cold fire against the pale ivory of her skin. The Queens wouldn’t desert her. When it came time to birth her babies, they would be there for her.
Benito made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go to him. You are driving him mad with worry.”
She liked the thought of that. Maybe she could get him to manhandle her like he had the night they flew. Which was not likely to happen after she told him how many dragonets she was carrying. She couldn’t quite think of them as eggs, but having a couple of dragons in her belly reminded her all too much of Sigourney Weaver and the Alien movies. Particularly when the alien tore out of Ripley’s belly. She shuddered.
Navarre was worried. She caught him mid-pace although he tried to disguise it.
He froze. “I thought you, who value privacy so highly, would knock or at least announce yourself.”
She sauntered the rest of the way into his room and watched his gaze travel from the stones gleaming at her neck to her calves. He licked his lips. Just that action had her damp between the thighs. Crossing the room, she draped herself on the bed, hiking her short dress up even higher and revealing her breasts even more.
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