Sergei bit her neck until it was throbbing in time with her clit. Kissing down to her breasts, he then worshipped them. Viola leaned back and sent the dishes flying off the table. Sergei stood up and laid her down on it. He bent her knees, taking her deeper. Her fingers dug into his arms as they braced against the table and he took her with a swift fury that reduced her to monosyllables of delight. Whipping her head back and forth, she lived for the driving pleasure of his body and was soon quivering around him.
“Mine,” he ground out, swiveling his hips so he rubbed her folds as he thrust himself faster.
She watched him in awe.
He was the most powerful, beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her arms held on to the table as he slid in and out of her body with the precision of a machine. He focused on her chest, where her breasts bounced energetically to his enthusiastic strokes. Teasing him, she cradled them, playing with her nipples as he watched. Pounding into her now, Sergei was grinning. He threw his head back and roared loud enough to shake the house and scare the sheep.
She floated along on the bliss, her nerve endings still sensitive to his touch as he stroked them both back to normal breathing. Her legs clamped around his waist as he carried her back upstairs to bed. She could enjoy this peace, allow herself to believe these feelings were real and not because she was a dragon Queen and he was a dragon stud. She was Viola and he was Sergei.
Tumbling them into bed, Sergei kissed her temple.
“You need rest. I'll take care of you.”
It was impossible not to melt into his arms, so she did and allowed herself to drift off. But the weave would be waiting for her as soon as she let her guard down.
Chapter Nineteen
Viola stared out the front porch, not seeing her farm. She saw a trapped Queen staring up at her from the bottom of a pit à la Silence of the Lambs. Blinking away the image, Viola stared out at the alpacas.
Good to his word, Sergei had gotten her the silver-gray, and she was more of a queen than Viola was. She was able to smile at her antics before Margery’s plight superimposed over her vision.
Help me.
None of the other Queens, including Carolyn, could sense Margery. They couldn’t even sense each other unless they were in the same room. Carolyn had a theory that Viola could tap into the weave better than the rest of them because she was used to dealing with tangled threads. And that’s what the weave seemed like sometimes, a snarled hank of yarn that needed to be rewound.
Margery was being kept in the pit until someone arrived. It was too deep for her to fly out and too slick to climb out. She was slowly dying without the sun. All Viola could tell was Margery was in New England. So close, yet too far away.
Viola felt Sergei at her back, his heat bleeding into her and casting out the chill of the pit. Leaning, she let her head fall back on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She touched her face to make sure there wasn’t any blood. He’d be pissed, and she didn’t want to deal with his over-protectiveness right now.
Guilt burned into her like the sun. Because going into the weave to help Margery wasn't the only secret she was keeping from him. Viola was late. And not for a very important date. If she thought she could get away with buying a pregnancy kit without Sergei seeing it, she would have confirmed what she pretty much already knew.
“I have to tell you something,” she said, staring out into the front lawn even as the sheep backed away from Sergei's presence.
“Tell me later,” he said. “You’re so beautiful standing there.”
Sliding his hands up her dress, Sergei’s quick intake of breath made her smile.
“You’re not wearing any panties.”
“Lately, they just get in the way,” Viola said, anticipation coursing through her as her heart stuttered when he leaned in. She loved the way he smelled, like leather and safety. Laughing up at him, Viola hugged his arms that were wrapped around her.
His erection was hot pressed into her back, and the last vestiges of Margery faded away. Peace flooded through her, almost as strong as her desire. He lifted the dress over her head and tossed it as she turned in his arms. He was naked, too. She reached for him, but he crushed her to his chest.
He kissed her with a desperation that worried her.
“Sergei?” she broke free. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” he said, pressing kisses to her neck and shoulders.
In turn, her fingers held on to his chiseled biceps as if she was afraid he was going to fly away. It had never felt this right, this idyllic. Something was going to fuck this up, she could feel it. If she told him what she suspected, would the passion between them cool off? It was hard to believe he was using her to get a brood, like Turk used her for a motorcycle or her ex-husband used her for a doormat.
Sergei is different.
Then why won’t he let you search for the Queens?
Because he’s worried about me?
Then why did you go behind his back and call in the cavalry?
Viola broke away from the soul-drugging kisses, wrenching herself out of his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as she conjured back the sundress she'd been wearing.
“Carolyn and Reed are on their way here.” She avoided his glare by staring at the ladybug crawling on the porch.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Viola, I trusted you with the computer so you could order your things. I didn’t expect you to make our address common knowledge.”
“It’s not like I posted it on Facebook,” Viola said, hands on her hips. “If you can’t trust the head of our embassy, who can we trust?”
Sergei pursed his lips. “I didn't want to tell you this, but there was an assassination attempt on Cassandra. There are a lot of angry studs out there. She was able to put down the rebellion and kill her attackers. You don’t have her centuries of fighting or a staff of loyal studs. You’ve got me and that’s it.”
“And the other Queens. Sergei, they’re in my head. Margery needs me, and I’m the only one who can find her.” She put her dress on and tugged it down.
“We gave Reed the information all that we could. You are not expendable.”
“Neither is Margery,” Viola twisted her hands together. She didn’t want this fight, but something had changed inside her when the weave communicated with her in Cassandra’s castle. It compelled her so she had to help the other Queens. “I’m going after her.”
“No, you’re not.” Sergei set his jaw.
“I’m a prisoner here, then?”
“Of course not,” he exploded. “How can you say that to me of all people? Have you been forced or abused?”
Viola covered her face. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He was shouting at her now. “I have given you everything, and you tell me you think I’m your jailor? I am your consort. I am your Protector. Everything I’ve done is in your best interest.”
“I know,” she said, needing to hold him, but he flung her off of him. “Sergei, listen to me. You don’t know what it’s like to have these women—these Queens in my head. They haunt me. I know I can save them, and the more I sit here in my idyllic perfect life, the more I hate myself.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“No. But why won’t you go with me to find them?” Viola implored him.
“You’ll get hurt. You hurt yourself every time you listen to them. One of these days you will sink into the weave and never come out again.” Sergei stormed into the front yard. The sheep ran for dear life.
“Sergei.” She sighed. “You’re being irrational.”
He barked out a short laugh that held no humor in it. “You have no idea how rational I'm being.”
“You’ve made me happier than anyone ever has. If the lost Queens weren’t a factor, this would be paradise.” Viola threw her arms wide to encompass everything from the terrified sheep to the farmhouse.
“Viola,” he said, in an even, calm voice that belied
his clenched fists. “You are the only Queen I’ve ever served willingly. I am doing the best that I can. Stay with me a few more weeks. Get stronger. Time is so precious. Let’s not waste it fighting.”
Heat flared through her. She would always want him with an all compelling passion. She could so easily throw herself back into his arms and have him make love to her until she was too exhausted to think. But the Queens would come to her in her dreams.
“I can’t sleep anymore”—she ran a hand down her face—“You don't know what it's like. I see them constantly. I'll go insane if I don’t help them.”
“You’re not ready,” he insisted. “I cannot let you go off untrained on wild goose chases. I’m good, but I’m not infallible.”
“I can be trained on the way.”
“You were a secretary and an artist. You’re not a commando. We’re talking weeks of training, if not months. I can train you. We’ll start tomorrow.”
Viola reared back, the contempt in his voice burned her. “First of all, I was an administrative assistant, and if you think attempting to second-guess Smythe is a cakewalk, you’re narrow minded. I didn’t grow up with Cassandra’s foot on my neck, but that doesn’t mean I was born yesterday.”
“You got screwed out of your 401K by a thug who calls himself Turk, and your husband took you for a ride.”
Now, it was getting ugly. “So, I’ve got shitty taste in men,” she ground out.
Sergei glared up at the sky. “Great. Perfect timing.”
“Are they coming?”
“You can’t even smell them. How are you going to know if there are studs waiting to attack you?”
Viola reached for the weave and found Carolyn’s life force strong and incoming. She sent her a warning that she and Sergei were having an unholy fight. However, at Carolyn’s panicked response, Viola realized she thought it was a physical one.
“Wait!” she screamed as Reed dove down like a black fighter jet. “We’re just arguing.”
Sergei met him in the air with teeth and claws, but both were keeping their poison at bay.
“Stay back,” Reed roared at Carolyn, who dodged past the combatants and landed next to Viola.
The animals ran for cover.
“You set him on me,” Sergei accused over his shoulder as the two dragons clenched each other and rolled. Reed, being larger had the advantage, but he was being careful to avoid and block the poisoned tip of Sergei’s tail.
“No,” Viola cried, shifting. “It wasn’t like that.”
The four of them were in the air then, dodging and circling. “I don’t want to fight you here,” Reed said. “We’re risking the Queens’ safety.”
“Sergei, I order you to stand down,” Viola shouted.
The bites and claws stilled as the others regarded her with varying degrees of disbelief.
“Is that an order?” Sergei said.
“How does it feel not to have free will?” Viola said, surprised at the bitterness that came out of her.
“It’s not something I ever thought to feel again from a Queen.”
Viola broke out in a cold sweat. This was so wrong. It was like a train wreck. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t stop it. “Sergei, this is so fucked up. We can talk about it.”
“Are you going to give me another order?”
“No. I just didn’t want you to hurt anyone.”
“He wouldn’t have,” Reed said, baring his teeth at Sergei.
“Are you her Protector now?” Sergei asked.
“Am I?” Reed asked Viola.
“No,” Viola cried, shocked. “Sergei is my Protector.”
“What if I no longer want to be,” he said. “I’m obviously not what you want.”
“Even though we don’t see eye to eye on finding the missing Queens does not mean that I don’t still care for you or need you.”
“Save it. I should have known better. I respectfully request to be released from your court.”
Carolyn gaped at him. Reed frowned. Viola staggered back.
“You’d leave me alone?” Viola said in a small voice.
He got what he wanted.
Viola covered her stomach protectively. He shouldn’t go without knowing. But if she told him, he would stay and things would be too messed up. If she thought he was protective now...
“If you’re going to risk yourself without a thought for my feelings, we have nothing further to say.”
“That makes no sense,” she screamed. “If you want me safe, be with me.”
“Is that an order, my Queen?”
“No,” Viola said. “Go.” Go like all the others.
“If I go, I will not be back. The farm is yours. I won’t share you with another stud.”
“I don’t want another stud. I want you,” Viola pleaded with him. “Don’t do this.”
“You can have me. All you have to do is give up on this idea of putting yourself in danger.”
“Margery’s time is running out. I’m afraid that someone is going to kill her or take her somewhere I can’t follow.”
“Why does it always have to be your way?” Sergei asked, shaking his head.
“What does it always have to be yours?” Viola turned back into her human form. Surely Sergei could see beyond his hatred for Queens that Margery was human like Viola had been.
“I was wrong,” he shook his head. “I thought I could bear to be with a Queen.”
“Don’t color me with the same brush as Cassandra because I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of glass.” Viola shook her fist at him.
“You don’t get it. I can’t bend. I’ll break.” He backwinged higher, distancing himself from her. “I do not think we’ll see each other again,” he said.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because, we have no future. I was a fool to think I could buck fate. Reed, she is yours to protect. If something happens to her, I will end you.” He flew away.
Chapter Twenty
Sergei flew to the top of the largest Sermitsiaq mountain in Greenland. He had been summoned shortly after they escaped from Cassandra’s castle but had put it off, sending word that his Queen was too ill for him to leave. He wanted their last days together to be perfect, something she’d remember forever after he had gone into the weave. But maybe this way was better.
He’d die with her hating him.
Perhaps, his death would be a relief to her.
He didn’t have a doubt that Reed would serve as her Protector until she chose another. They’d keep her safe at do-gooder central and surround her with commandos while they went chasing the lost Queens. She’d be kept so busy, there wouldn’t be time for her to think of him and if Nidhogg was merciful, he’d be executed before she chose another consort.
He would have liked to bust some heads and play the hero with her. But he wasn’t a hero. It was time to stop pretending and face the music. The fact of the matter was he killed a Queen centuries ago, and it was time to accept his punishment. Viola would only get dragged down with him. It was better this way. Still, he hoped she would remember him fondly. They could have been great together.
Greenland’s landscape was as stark and unforgiving as it was untouched and beautiful. It hadn’t changed that much since the last time he was there. He wished he could feel the weave and sense Kira. Sergei wondered if she was still batshit crazy or if she’d found peace in death. He liked to think that she did. He knew that the Inuit tribes were relieved she wouldn’t be demanding their children for sacrifice.
As he approached the ice castle, Sergei kept searching for his dragon escort but there wasn’t any. It wasn’t until he had landed and was surrounded by the Order of the Dragon Slayers that he realized there were no other dragons than Mei Hua. She smelled sour, like rotted lemons.
“Human form only or you’ll upset the Queen.” The Order may have been only human, but they’d been killing dragons for as long as they could remember. He had ten surrounding him.
Sergei shif
ted into his motorcycle leathers. He should have gone on one last ride. He glowered at his escort. There was still time to change his mind and take off. Head back to Vermont, fuck Viola silly, and then see if she'd go on one last motorcycle ride with him.
It would be difficult, but he might be able to escape.
They walked him down a large corridor of ice. He could see heads of studs frozen in the walls.
“That’s new,” he remarked, wondering if Mei Hua wasn’t as nuts as Kira after all.
“The Queen doesn’t like studs.”
Well, that was an understatement. “So why did she summon me?”
“That’s for her to say."
They passed under an archway, and Sergei noted several archers and large mounted harpoons manned by unsmiling, tattooed men. If he initiated flight, Sergei had no doubt that the harpoons would aim at his wings. Mei Hua knew her defenses. Or was at least listening to someone who did.
The throne room was smaller than he remembered. Mei Hua, a slim Chinese woman, sat on the floor of the chamber on thick sheepskin rugs. She was playing with three dragonlings. Two Chinese dragon babies rolled tail-over-head, fighting with their baby teeth and claws. The other dragonling stopped him in his tracks. He stared in disbelief until one of the Order pushed him—not un-gently—forward. Sergei was seeing the first female hatchling in over one thousand years. She was a blue Celtic dragon and she wound around her mother’s neck, gnawing on a diamond the size of Sergei’s fist in her baby claws.
Standing guard were high-ranking members of the Order. He could tell by their tribal tattoos.
“That’s close enough,” the man on the left said, holding out a hand to stop the forward progression.
This close to them, even Sergei could sense the magic coming off them. Priests or Shamans, he wasn’t sure. But dangerous. Suddenly, Sergei’s chances of escape had dwindled to zero. There was a certain comfort in the end, he found. When there was no other avenue to go down, the least he could do was enjoy his last walk.
The Queen's Flight: The Emerging Queens Book 2 Page 18