Smitten
Dawn of the Dragons #2
By Vivienne Savage
All material contained herein is Copyright © Vivienne Savage 2016. All rights reserved.
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Edited by Shay VanZwoll/EV Proofreading
Chapter 1
With a thin, white cotton shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Ēostre stood on the balcony overlooking a verdant California valley. The cool morning breeze kissed her skin and swept the smell of meadow flowers to her.
A few years ago, the state had suffered one of the worst droughts in history — but due to dragon magic, the land had entered a period of renewal. Storm dragons like Ēostre made rain fall from the heavens and wash away desiccated flora, replenishing depleted bodies of water. Earth dragons had emerged to rake their claws through the soil until dust bowls bloomed with new life, grass, vibrant flowers, and trees. And the humans, ever ignorant of magic, praised everything but the actual source of their good fortune.
In Ēostre’s opinion, it was a travesty the mortals weren’t allowed to appreciate the truth: the creature once feared as their greatest enemy had become their only ally. If they came forward to the humans, they could do more for the ailing planet to make the world a better place for all.
“Penny for your thoughts,” a gentle voice said from behind Ēostre.
Chloe stepped through the open door with a silver tray, two mugs atop it beside a small, clay teapot. She lowered her load to the circular table and claimed a seat.
“My thoughts are weighed by old concerns and nothing more,” Ēostre said. “Did Saul send you?”
“What? No,” Chloe said a little too quickly. For all of the time she spent among supernatural beings, the dragon-blooded woman had gained nothing of their secretive personality. She remained an open book, perpetually airing her thoughts to the rest of the immortals in her company. “I came on my own.”
Ēostre pressed her lips together, her mouth forming a thin line. Since moving in with her son and daughter-in-law, she’d been besieged by numerous attempts to entertain her.
“He worries,” Chloe admitted, confirming Ēostre’s suspicions.
“Of course he does. Such is Saul’s nature. He worries I’ll retreat from the world and return to my hibernation at the top of a long-forgotten mountain peak.” She chuckled a dry, humorless sound and joined Chloe at the table. “Perhaps it is time for me to leave for a while—”
“No!” Chloe blurted out.
“You desire my continued presence in your home?” Ēostre asked. She raised one fine, silver brow.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Chloe asked.
“Most female dragons experience a sense of territorial possessiveness when it comes to their homes and hoards. From what I have studied in recent years since my return among the awakened, I had come to believe such was true of human females regarding their mothers-in-law as well. Do you not feel threatened by me?”
The bright-eyed young woman stared wordlessly. Without another word, she tilted the teapot and poured dark, spiced liquid into the cups. Beside them, honey, cream, and sugar filled tiny bowls decorated with delicate, painted blossoms.
“Perhaps you are more dragon than I previously believed,” Ēostre murmured softly. Chloe’s features had taken on a stoic expression. “It has never been my intention to make you feel uncomfortable within your own home. I will leave at once and move into the apartment I rented in Sacramento—”
“Ēostre, no,” Chloe interrupted her with a gentle, firm voice. “I know you’re the ‘Monster-in-Law’ and according to all forms of entertainment, we’re not supposed to like each other, but that’s not the case here. Astrid loves you. Hell, Saul frets every day that you’re going to leave again for another century. Most of all, Ēostre, I like having you here. You’re family, and you’ve never done anything to make me feel unwelcome or unloved. Please stay.”
A rare surge of emotion clutched Ēostre’s throat until she blinked to stave off her unshed tears. “You are my son’s beloved. I would never do anything, unwarranted, to jeopardize that.”
The best part about reawakening had been discovering her family had grown. Chloe and Saul helped her to navigate the new, modern world and Astrid filled her days with childish delight. They’d surrounded her with their love and banished the void left by Fafnir. Ēostre felt less alone. Less out of place and time.
The next best thing was rekindling a friendship with Maximilian, her deceased mate’s closest friend and ally. He was an incredible man, and she’d been honored when he asked if she had the time and the will to help him undertake a career in politics. It was unprecedented. No dragon ever became involved so openly in mortal government, not since the council dragged their world into secrecy.
Chloe reached across the table and took Ēostre’s hand without ending the eye contact between them. “What’s bothering you? Saul told me you only hide away like this when you have a lot on your mind. Is it about Maximilian’s presidential campaign?”
“No. That does not worry me. Although it won’t be necessary, we could buy the election if we wanted and force the other two candidates to bow out. In three months, I predict he shall win on his own.” She squeezed her daughter’s fingers before drawing her hands back to her lap.
“What’s the problem then?”
“The final meeting is to occur between all leading members of the supernatural world. Dragons, witches, and other magical beings will send representatives to decide on the matter of reversing our vows of secrecy. This is a vote we cannot buy, and its outcome changes everything. Everything we have done has been leading up to this one moment.”
“Right. Because he’s already known as the governor of California, and this’ll only put him in the public light even more. So if he runs as a human man, he’ll have eight years of time in the spotlight before he has to make a disappearance, fake his death, or eventually fall into obscurity, right?”
“Correct. The humans will expect him to age and become gray as the years go by. He was not a young man by their standards when he entered the governor’s office, but if we come forward to the world, we will only do so after he has become the president. On the record, Maximilian is fifty-five.”
“He doesn’t look fifty-five,” Chloe mused. “And you don’t look forty-nine. Hell, I don’t look forty-five and neither does Saul. You know, he told me it’s been centuries since you two could pass for mother and child in public.”
“We could once, long ago” Ēostre confirmed. “It’s strange to play as his older sibling. Of course, with magic, I could alter my appearance but…”
“You’re vain,” Chloe said bluntly, much to Ēostre’s embarrassment.
“Yes,” she admitted. “As our kind often are.”
While Ēostre wanted to openly claim her only child, she also craved the sense of belonging she once had as a highly sought-after advisor among the humans. Back when her kind first retreated into secrecy, a few ancients even older than Ēostre had convened, voted, and determined it was to the benefit of all supernatural creatures to work their magic from the shadows. There, they could accomplish more without the risk of courting appearances from dragonslayers and witch hunters. When the other super
natural creatures agreed, there was no turning back.
She wondered if they had truly believed humans would be any match for them. Only the cockiest wyrms, like her dearest, beloved Fafnir, ever succumbed to slayers. If they’d wanted, dragonkind could have banded together and crushed human resistance long before they’d created weapons of war.
Chloe stirred milk and honey into her tea while Ēostre did the same. They shared a companionable silence, sipping caramel vanilla chai while the sun rose in the distance. It became a radiant ball above the horizon and sent out streams of magenta and orange over the azure sky.
“How do you feel about the dragons coming out to the world, Chloe?” Ēostre finally asked.
“About which part? How do I feel about no longer having to hide what I am, or about the danger related to some human taking offense to what we are?”
“All of it.”
Chloe tapped her nail against her lower lip, a thoughtful look on her face. “I feel like it’s a good change. We’re all stressed. Technology is moving forward and we’ll have to move with it if dragons and the supernatural are to thrive. How can we enjoy our lives from the shadows, always afraid of what someone will see or find out? We have to become a part of normal, everyday life until we are the new normal.”
“You have spent time with Maximilian,” Ēostre guessed. Chloe had seemingly echoed many of the fire dragon’s points on the subject of ending the secrecy.
“No. I’ve believed this for a while. Honest. Astrid may still be a child to you, but without dragon blood in her veins, she’d be old enough to marry and have a family of her own in a few years,” Chloe said.
“Not so soon, I would hope,” Ēostre replied with a chuckle.
“Well, no.” Chloe laughed. “But what I meant was, if people could accept us as we are, she could spend more time with human children of her physical age. She could go to school and socialize with peers rather than be home taught. She’s lonely here. No matter how much Saul and I play with her, or how often we arrange playdates between her and Javier, she wants friends.”
Ēostre turned her thoughts to her grandchild. Despite Astrid’s seventeen years of age and advanced intellect, she physically resembled a child no older than twelve.
“We considered enrolling Astrid into online college courses next semester. She’s ready, and she’s anxious to learn,” Chloe continued. “Eventually, she and Javier won’t be the only half-dragon children, either.”
“You and Marceline have opened the metaphorical floodgates,” Ēostre agreed, her tone dry but humor-filled. “In a world open to our kind, she would be free to pursue such interests.”
“Exactly,” Chloe said. “So, Grandma, you have a big job to do.”
Chapter 2
Maximilian Emberthorn sat within a luxurious office in downtown Sacramento. With the sun streaming through the window to his rear, he sipped coffee and stared at the computer screen before him. Business was booming, stock prices were up, and California’s citizens loved him.
And none of it brought him true happiness. None of his vast accomplishments, the wealth attained through his company, or the power gained as governor of California filled the gaping hole left by his deceased daughter Brigid.
“Sir, you have a phone call on line two,” his personal assistant informed him through the intercom. After a pause, she added, “It’s Loki Agnarhorn. Should I tell him you’re busy?”
“No, that’s not necessary, Hilary. Thanks. I’ll take the call.” Max plucked the phone from the cradle and placed it between his ear and shoulder. “Hello, Loki.”
“Good evening, Maximilian, my friend. How does the day fare for you?” Loki’s majestic voice, carrying a deep Scandinavian accent, rumbled and boomed through the phone line. Maximilian imagined the dusty old wyrm chatting in his dragon form, punching numbers on the dial pad with the tip of a claw.
As much as some dragons abhorred humans, they held a proportionate fascination with the rise of technology. They loved gadgets and gizmos of all kind, and of course, so did Maximilian, otherwise he wouldn’t have founded his own electronics company.
“What do you want?” Max asked warily.
“Is that any way to address a family friend?”
“When that friend calls only to ask favors? Yes. Let’s cut to the chase. What would you like me to do for you?”
“My lead software developer and I have created an absolutely fantastic new application intended for the android mobile phone. I’d like to license it exclusively to your company, of course.”
“Of course,” Max said dryly. “And what does this fantastic new application do for the user?” He twisted to his computer again and scanned the endless flood of Twitter messages on the screen.
“Organization,” Loki said. He went on to describe, in great detail, a program allowing a mobile phone user to safely store everything from grocery lists to bank account numbers and passwords at the push of a button.
“And it takes dictation.” Maximilian rubbed his chin. “That’s impressive. I’ll have Hilary deliver a prototype of the XTC Jewel tomorrow. Load it with the app and have the device returned to me. I’ll place it up for consideration.”
“Consideration?” Loki repeated. “My creations require consideration?”
“What sort of businessman do you take me to be, Loki? Did you honestly believe I would trust you again after the fiasco with the GPS mapping application ten years ago?”
“That was no fault of mine. How was I to know the code had been stolen? This is one hundred percent legitimate, a creation of my own design.”
“And I will scrutinize it closely before making my decision.”
Dead silence hung on the line between them, an awkward lull Maximilian irritably endured.
“I see. Is this what your own flesh and blood must endure, cousin?”
Max raked his fingers through his hair. “This has nothing to do with blood, and everything to do with proper business protocol.”
“Yet you bring up my past mistakes, rubbing my nose in them as you would a dog who has piddled on the new carpet. A human being killed your only cub, and you have not only forgiven this human, but befriended the very family protecting her, while refusing to forgive transgressions — much more minor — from your own family. Is blood not thicker than water, as the humans say? I do not understand you, Maximilian.” The grave, grating voice on the other end of the phone paused. “Nor do I understand why we must call you by this preposterous human name. Why do you not use your given name?”
“I haven’t used that name since I first began to live as a human at the turn of the nineteenth century,” Maximilian replied gruffly. “Perhaps old age has addled your mind, but I have always been a friend to the Drakenstone family.”
“To Fafnir,” the other dragon snorted.
“And to his widow, Loki.”
“And to his widow,” the other dragon agreed reluctantly. “But how has this human inherited such loyalty, when she has done little more than serve as a milk-machine for a halfling spawn? Murdered Brigid—”
Maximilian couldn’t take another second. The mention of his child’s name incensed him and rage swept over his body with a rush of molten heat. The hand resting on the edge of his desk clenched down, splintered the wood, and the surface buckled. “Enough! Chloe Drakenstone did no such thing,” Max spoke heatedly into the phone. “Say another word of it and I will scrape the ashen scales from your worthless, charred carcass.”
Loki silenced.
“For years, I have bided your disrespect, your meddling, and your prattling commentary with humor for the sake of your mother, but I will accept it no longer. My Brigid made her own choice and our egotism cost her life. Nothing more. You will not pass judgment.”
“Belenos—”
“Your gutless attempts to sow dissent and weave treachery have failed. Meddle in my affairs again and I will finish the skinning Thor began a century ago. Then I will reduce what remains of you to slag.”
�
��My apologies. I had only meant—”
“Whatever you intended is meaningless,” Maximilian cut him off brusquely. “As for your product, I’m positive it’s shit as usual. I wouldn’t even load your software onto my competitor’s cell phones.”
Max ended the call and leaned back in the seat, breathing deeply.
“Sir?”
“I’m fine, Vincent.” Max waved off the suit-clad security agent in his doorway. The man’s amber eyes focused on the splintered desk and he didn’t move.
“If there’s a threat to your control, I need to be aware.”
Werewolves are too damn perceptive. And stubborn, Max thought. “Only an annoying family member. It’s nothing, I promise.”
Vincent flashed a toothy grin then pulled the door shut. It opened a second time, less than a minute later.
“Max?” His secretary peeked around the edge of the barely-cracked door, concern on her face.
“Nothing to worry about, Hilary,” he assured her, too. For her benefit, he managed a small smile.
“Are you sure? Should I evacuate under the guise of another fire drill?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m in control.”
He dragged in a slower, deeper breath to demonstrate his decreasing temper. “I am quite fine, Hilary. See?”
“You certainly are,” she said around a nervous chuckle. “Peace incarnate. Lunch arrived fifteen minutes ago while you were on the phone. Would you like yours?”
“Yes please.”
Hilary stepped away from the door and returned with a to-go box from a local burger place. Maximilian might have the appearance of a stuffy Hollywood socialite, but he didn’t eat like one. He promptly opened the box and scooped up the messy triple-decker burger. The sweet scent of barbecue sauce and smoky bacon rose from the greasy meal.
Hilary laughed as he stuffed his face.
“What?” he asked around a mouthful. “I’m starved.”
“Your face,” she teased. “You looked so gleeful. So, do they take care of you like this at the state capitol building?”
Smitten Page 1