“That smile is, as Mia says, TMI.”
His grin widened. “I haven’t said a word.”
“You don’t have to,” Remy retorted wryly. “Anyway, answer. She takes both blood and food?”
He nodded, shrugging his shoulders as Remy tugged at his ear, obviously as perplexed as he himself was.
“There is a reason for this?”
“Lara says she thinks it must be because she has taken the blood of so many Sanguenna nourishing her, that it has enhanced her.”
“One would think it would make her more sensitive to things such as food, not remove her sensitivity entirely.” When Georgios nodded his agreement, Remy asked, “And she has more of these little quirks?”
“Yes. Her powers of compulsion are incredibly strong.”
“Vampires have always been able to bend people to their will,” he said dismissively.
“True, but she says that her powers were strong enough to ensure people spoke the truth with her, but now, she can make them do anything she wants. She is a puppet master and they the puppet.”
“Can she control you?”
“No.” He bared his teeth. “And make no jokes about my not knowing because she could compel me to forget. She can’t. It gives her a headache.”
“That is most fortunate, my friend.”
He nodded with no small relief at how true that statement was. “I agree. There are other little things… She can sometimes sense my emotions.”
“Most Sanguenna can do that after a while.”
“Exactly. After a while. Not immediately. Not after less than three months together.”
“So it truly is like the others’ blood mingled in her and gave her strength?”
“Yes. Apart from the fact that she can eat. Although, most ancient Sanguenna can sample some foods. So, that would fit too. But she gorges.” And it made his cock hurt to watch her.
“Aye.” Remy rubbed his forehead. “Most perplexing.”
No shit. Georgios blew out a breath. “Still no mating mark.”
Remy shot him a concerned look. “In truth?”
“Aye. This is no lying matter.”
“Why do you think she hasn’t manifested one yet?”
“I don’t know. I wish she would. It’s why I have no desire to take her to the other realm.”
“Arista would be angry if you didn’t bring her to court.”
“Exactly. But until the mark appears, she isn’t officially a mate, so there is no leman to present.”
“A muddle you’re in, that’s for certain, old friend.” Remy slapped him in commiseration on the back. Then, he tilted his head to the side. “I shall buy some of these roses. Mia might not like them, but she should be appreciative of the fact I have tried.”
Georgios snorted. “Your mate’s so prickly. It’s a wonder you don’t have to give her more gifts.”
“I do. With my tongue.”
Georgios snorted at his friend’s smug look. “TMI, old friend.”
They shared a grin and stepped into the explosion of flora that had them both immediately sneezing.
The woman at the counter gawked at them, as they approached. The two of them eyeing each bucket of blooms with more fear than they’d approach armed enemies, for each bucket’s scent was so overpowering, pain clamored at their senses.
By the time they approached the counter, they were sneezing so much it was like a song. Georgios pinched his nose and asked, “Is there a special rose for Valentine’s Day?”
The woman frowned, and he saw her lips twitch as she tried to contain her amusement. Only the Mother knew what she was thinking, but though her reaction was disrespectful, he couldn’t blame her for being amused. He sounded like he’d snorted a trumpet.
“All roses are special, sir.”
“But is there one that is more special than another?”
“The red rose.”
“What makes it more special?”
She frowned. “It’s red.”
“That’s it?” He shot Remy a confused look. “Why is red special? Because it’s the color of blood?”
She frowned again then flared her nostrils once more. This time, however, the flare didn’t lead to laughter. “Dragons?” she asked, head tilting to the side in shock.
With their nostrils forever impaired thanks to the stench, he had no idea how she’d managed to scent them.
“Aye,” Remy retorted, straightening up. “And you are?”
She peered around them, ensuring they were alone. “Wolf.”
Georgios murmured, “You’ll understand our confusion then?”
“Indeed, if it’s true you live in the other realm.”
“We do.”
“Valentine’s Day is a human tradition. It’s to celebrate love and, more particular, the love we feel for our partners or, in our case, mates.”
“But why?” he asked, still not entirely sure he understood.
She shrugged. “Why does Christmas exist or Thanksgiving?”
“Thanks. Giving.” Georgios tasted the words.
Remy nodded. “I have seen this. In movies, but also, in my travels…”
He was referring to the hunt for his leman. “I heard tell of it. They celebrate it every November.”
“The world over?” Georgios asked, astonished by the notion, but Remy shook his head. As did the florist.
“Just in America.”
“What are they giving thanks for?”
The florist sighed. “Sir, that’s a whole history class in itself. Valentine’s isn’t as serious, but at the same time, it’s very important to women.”
Georgios huffed. “How many roses tell a woman you’re in love with her?” Because, truth was, he did love Lara.
In eight weeks, he’d seen many sides of her nature. Some good, some bad, but her bravery had grabbed him by the balls, and he’d swiftly tumbled into love thereafter.
It wasn’t a comfortable love, either. It hurt, he’d realized, which had, in turn, made him see that what he felt was love.
She could hurt him where no other could touch him.
That power was something he’d granted her when he’d given her his heart.
Thus far, she’d done nothing to make him regret it. Although, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he’d given his heart away, and she might not have given him hers.
Naturally, he hadn’t told her that he loved her, so maybe, she hadn’t told him either.
Maybe the flowers would help him show her his feelings.
“A hundred usually does it,” the florist said with a smile.
“So many?” Georgios asked with a grimace. He wafted a hand. “Do they smell as badly as your shop?”
Her eyes narrowed. “My shop doesn’t smell.”
“Mayhap not to you,” Remy wheezed. “But our senses are overloaded.”
She softened a tad at that, but he could tell she was pissed at his comment. “Red roses have very little scent. As we’ve cultivated them, they’ve lost it.”
Remy scowled. “What’s the point of them then?” His scowl turned into an exasperated huff—a sentiment Georgios could understand.
“They’re beautiful, and they represent love. Can I put you both down for a hundred?” She shot them a bright smile.
Remy sighed. “Yes.”
Georgios reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “I have this, Remy. It’s a credit card. Lara says humans accept this as payment.”
Remy nodded. “I have seen this. Mia has many.”
The assistant held out her hand for the card. “Our stockist has just arrived, and I have the stems in stock. Would you like them today or for the day itself?”
Georgios murmured, “The day itself. But my friend will require them today.”
“Okay. That’s fine. But I will need to take payment now.”
“That is acceptable,” Georgios agreed.
“There are no refunds, though, I’m afraid.”
“Why would I need a refund? I
wish for my mate to see how much I love her?”
The woman shot him a blithe smile. “Oh, she’ll know.”
“Good.”
“We’ll wait outside,” Remy mumbled, rubbing his temple as the stench of the flowers was obviously giving him a headache..
He wasn’t the only one.
After he wrote down the address of Lara’s home and she gave the credit slip back to him, Georgios eyed the price with disinterest, but as they stepped outside, he commented, “Love is expensive in this realm.”
Remy shrugged. “Love is costly in all realms.”
“Lara told me that my bed of jewels is worth a fortune here.”
“Aye, Mia said the same.”
“They say that, and yet, they sell books in shops for pennies and cents. Some of Lara’s coffees at the café are more expensive.” Georgios shook his head. “Back to front way of thinking, if you ask me.”
“Since when have humans ever made sense?” Remy asked, a little philosophically as he leaned his bulk against the florist’s doorjamb. “We Dragons have always prized information above all else.”
“As it should be.”
“Aye.” Remy sniffed. “What type of female is Lara? Hungry for things like Aldrich’s wench?”
Georgios snorted. “No one is as hungry as Aldrich’s wench for things. Do you remember that time she had him bring over that mosaic? He had to carry it back and forth to his cavern in great cloth sacks?”
Remy rolled his eyes at the memory of a male who had once been close friends with their House. “I suppose we should feel fortunate our Sanguennas are modern females and not from the Roman era. If I retrieved a mosaic for Mia, she’d undoubtedly ask me what the fuck it was. Roses are far easier to carry than mosaics and cement.”
“T’was pretty, though, I’ll give the wench that.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Roses won’t last as long as the mosaic.”
“Throwaway world,” Remy murmured softly.
Georgios rubbed his nose. “Bizarre.” He folded his arms across his chest and peered through the florist’s window to watch the Wolf Shifter bustle around. As she gathered the stems together and placed them in a large box, he murmured, “You might reconsider the notion it’s easier to transport tiles than that beast.”
Remy turned, looked where Georgios was staring, and grimaced. “I must bring a sack with me. I’ll never get that in the beast’s maw.”
“I have towels at the house,” Georgios offered. “You should be able to fashion a knapsack with that.”
“Thanks to you,” Remy said cordially.
Seeing the woman was almost done, he nodded toward Remy, and they went inside. The woman beamed a bright smile at them.
“Here you are, sir.”
“Out of curiosity, do you know a boy called Max?” Georgios asked, absently wondering how many packs were in Seattle for he might well be asking her for the equivalent of searching for a needle in a haystack.
Lara, in the depths of dawn, had expounded further on her meeting with the boy—in an attempt to absolve herself of guilt where she shouldn’t be feeling any at all.
She’d done a good deed and had been punished for it. But she was still finding it hard to wash off the blood of her enemies. She was tender-hearted to be sure, and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain about that. He wanted her as she was, gentle and savvy. The last thing he needed was a General in bed.
When the female froze in place at his question, however, he shot Remy a concerned glance.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort,” he returned. “I only ask for I know of him, you see.”
“He’s my nephew,” she whispered, her tension only worsening at his interest.
Georgios’s eyes flared. “You are the Alpha’s female?” he demanded, disgust in his voice for the male who had tried to murder a small boy to limit the danger to his future self.
“No! I damn well am not!” she spat at him. “I’m his mother’s sister, not his father’s. How do you know him anyway? Why would a Dragon know my nephew?” Her suspicion would have been wounding if his own hadn’t flared at her admission she was related to the boy.
“My Sanguenna saved his life,” he told her proudly, chest puffing out for his mate’s bravery. She’d helped the child even though she’d known it could mean certain death for her if her people were to find out.
And look at the aftermath.
Her actions had detrimental repercussions for them all.
Twelve of her coven lay dead. And their mate bond was in flux, all for the sake of one small boy and his devious uncle.
He could see his words stunned his House Head, but that was nothing to the female’s reaction. She grabbed his hands and brought them to her mouth. Before he could wrestle them away from her, she pressed them to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
“Sir, a thousand thanks to your mate,” she whispered, raising tear-sodden eyes to his. “My sister, no, our family, would never have overcome Max’s passing had your Sanguenna not come to his aid.” She gulped back more tears. “I need your credit card, sir.”
He frowned at that, but was grateful that she released his hands.
“Why?” he asked, fidgeting a little at her intent regard.
“I must give you a refund.”
“But I want the roses.”
“And I could never charge the mate of the Sanguenna who saved my kin.”
She held out her head, her chin firm with resolve as she demanded, “Your card, sir.”
“I didn’t ask after the boy for this.”
“I’m well aware of that, sir. The card.”
Her insistence had him, with reluctance, handing over his credit card. He didn’t need the currency, and she more than likely did considering the size of their order but it was a matter of honor. Even in this bizarre world, honor still counted for something… if anything, he was more relieved about that than a refund!
“How is Max?” he asked softly.
“Well. Very well. And stronger than before. The Sanguenna’s blood did something to him.”
Aye, there was plenty of that about.
“What do you mean?”
“He is stronger now, physically, than months before. But his Wolf? The beast fair radiated its dominance over the surroundings before, now? Impossible to avoid.” She grimaced, but there was amusement buried within its depths before she returned her gaze to the computer on the countertop. “It can be very uncomfortable to be around him when his mother demands he do his homework.”
“Home. Work,” Georgios repeated. “You mean, chores?”
“No. I mean studies from school. No boy wants to do it, but Max is even worse and the beast worse still. They’re having a mental tug of war every day now, but we’re not complaining. Anything to have him safe and with us.” She beamed a bright smile at him then returned his card to him. “Thank you once more, sir. And please, pass on our gratitude to your mate. We wanted to…” She sighed. “We wanted to show our gratitude personally, but after the Emperor demanded Max come to court, and… Well. You know. We thought it better to cut ourselves from her entirely. For her sake. He said,” she hesitated, gulped. “Max said they would have killed her had he not lied to them. Is that true?”
“The boy speaks no lies,” Georgios murmured, tone grave. “My thanks to him for his ability to deceive a Vampire judge.” His smile was cheeky. “My Sanguenna said he’ll make a fine Alpha one day.”
“Sooner rather than later, we’re hoping,” the florist confessed. “That bastard needs challenging. The entire Pack is against him now, but no one is strong enough to challenge him until Max is of age. Time is not his friend,” she seethed.
“Let us know when Max is Alpha,” Georgios instructed, and acting on his own instincts, even if what he was about to suggest was very unorthodox, he continued, “There is no reason why the coven and the Pack need have discord between them.”
Her eyes widened. “I shall inform Max.”
; He bowed his head and formally said, “Greetings to you and to your family. Thank you for the roses.”
“Greetings to you, sir. They’re a small token of our gratitude. I hope your lady loves them.”
They shared a smile, Remy retrieved the box with a mutter of thanks, and as they headed toward the door, his House Head mumbled, “I think, old friend, you have plenty to tell me.”
“Grace,” Georgios called out later that night after Remy had returned home, a lot confused but more informed as to what had happened to the newest member of his House in this realm. “I need your help.”
Grace, the kindly female who had spoken up at the meeting, was as friendly with him as she’d been that day.
Some trusted him not. A fact he could understand. Shifters and Vampires weren’t natural friends—hence the florist’s surprise at his offer.
Suddenly having a Shifter, and a Dragon one at that, as the Sanguenna’s mate discomforted some, angered others, while actually pleasing the majority.
The females thought their bond was romantic, and the males, he sensed, were jealous. Mostly because Lara was a stunning beauty who was no longer something Grace called, ‘footloose and fancy free.’
She’d also told him many males, like Marcus, had hoped for a union between them and the Sanguenna for political reasons.
Yet another reason to dislike Marcus, although his respect for the man had increased slightly. From his outspokenness at the meeting, Georgios had half expected the bastard to challenge Lara. But he hadn’t.
No one had.
Lara had made her point that night and had made it well. Too well, in truth. A lot of the weaker members of her coven were scared of her now. But as he’d told her, “A healthy sense of fear keeps things in check.”
Not that she’d appreciated his comment.
“Georgios, what can I do for you?”
Grace’s smile was ever bright, and she always flashed him a peep of her fangs in a greeting he didn’t understand but could appreciate for it was a display of genuine friendship. Or so said Lara.
“I’m confused, Grace,” he said as he sank into an armchair in the café. Lara was behind the counter, busily serving a flurry of clients who’d just appeared to discuss something called the Super Bowl.
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