Smitten

by Vivienne Savage

  “Oh okay. Have fun!” Astrid ended the video chat without fuss.

  Ēostre hurried to the door and yanked it open to find Max appropriately dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt. It was contradictory to the sophisticated businessman she knew but oddly fitting for the occasion. Not that it was the first time she’d seen him in jeans. Or a t-shirt, its sleeves taut around his biceps and stitches strained. There were photos circulating the web about Max, speculating whether or not he’d kept a certain former governor as a physical trainer.

  “Max, I am so sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he responded curtly, and then as if seeming to realize his tone of voice, he followed up with a gentler, “I thought something important must have delayed you.”

  “It was a video call from Astrid,” she confessed. “But never mind that, what’s wrong? You seem… irritable.”

  Maximilian made no effort to smile, and from that, she already knew something was wrong. So rather than grab her purse and head for the door, she took his hand and guided him to the couch.

  “Let me order in, all right? General Tso’s and shrimp lo mein for you?”

  “Okay,” he agreed easily.

  Ēostre didn’t pry, but Max’s bad mood hung around him like a fog for the next two days. He curbed it when in front of the cameras, but whenever they were alone, he brooded in silence and failed to engage her in conversation. Knowing he would consult her when he was ready, Ēostre let him be.

  ***

  The request for her advice came three days after their return to Sacramento. Max had been asked by a prominent technical college to speak at their winter graduation ceremony — whether he was elected or not in November — and Ēostre thought it would be easy to convince him to agree.

  “I would be honored,” he replied quietly.

  “Your face tells me otherwise,” Ēostre said. “Did something happen while we were in Virginia?”

  Max’s low and humorless chuckle worried her as much as the troubled expression on his face. “I find myself in need of your wise counsel. Which is no surprise, as I seem to seek it more often than usual as of late.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Max. I’m your advisor, so please, speak your mind and let me do my job.”

  After a tight nod, Max focused his hazel eyes on the city beyond his office windows. They were the most beautiful color — golden amber with tiny specks of blue that reminded her of the heart of a flame.

  “Do I need a first lady, Ēostre?”

  “A first lady?” The question startled her as much as his change of mood. Her fingers gripped the leather. “What brought this on?”

  “Answer the damned question,” Max snapped. “Give me your honest opinion. Is the presence of a first lady required in the White House? Does the American public expect me to have a wife and family?”

  Ēostre struggled to regain her composure, put off by his surge of temper as much as she was unsettled by the question. She repeated herself, “What put such a foolish notion in your head?”

  Maximilian’s eyes flashed, fire behind the warm caramel color.

  “Belenos… What’s wrong?” Her voice softened as she left her chair and crossed the desk to meet him. She sat on the edge of it, facing him, and crossed her legs.

  “Mahuika paid a visit after the Virginia speech,” he said gruffly. “She seems to think a wife and child would humanize me to the public, and as such, has offered me both.”

  “I see,” Ēostre murmured. “And does her offer tempt you?”

  “Very much,” he replied honestly. “I have never blamed Chloe for taking Brigid’s life. If anyone is to bear the blame for those sad events, it should be me for turning a blind eye to my daughter’s cruelty. I spoiled her from birth. I coddled her, Ēostre. I loved my child so dearly I gave her anything she asked until she grew wild, beyond my control. I coveted Saul for a son, and thought if only he would give up his human pet, we could become so much closer and fulfill Fafnir’s wishes. I thought… I thought Saul would become a good influence to tame the ferocity she acquired from her mother.” The fire dragon shook his head. “Instead, I have lost her.”

  “Bel—”

  “If I had commanded her to release Saul from his obligation, she would be here beside me today.”

  “She wouldn’t have listened to you, Belenos. Brigid never listened to you. You gave her every opportunity to make the right choices for herself. None of us can do anything more than teach our offspring right from wrong. We cannot force them to make the right choices.”

  “I should have tried harder,” he whispered. “If only I’d done more to raise her differently from her mother.”

  Ēostre pressed her palm to Max’s cheek and directed his head until their eyes met. “Tell me this — if Brigid inherited her willful personality from her mother, why consider breeding with Mahuika again?”

  Max didn’t answer.

  “Do what your heart tells you.” She stepped away and to the cabinet behind his desk, where he kept glasses and a decanter of fine cognac. After she poured him a glass, she recorked the bottle and returned it to the shelf.

  “Would you judge me if I accepted her offer?”

  “I…” She stopped to gather her thoughts and chose her words carefully. “I would ask myself if she is the example you would want at your side when you lead the country.”

  “Each move I make will be scrutinized and studied,” he agreed, nodding. As he slouched back in the seat and raised the glass for a sip, the humor returned to his eyes. “You evaded my question though. That isn’t what I asked.”

  “She wouldn’t be my choice for a proper match,” Ēostre admitted beneath his gaze. “I don’t believe she’d be good for the office, either. Or your reputation.”

  “Still not what I asked.”

  Ēostre pressed her lips in a thin line. “As your campaign manager, yes, I would judge you for the poor decision.”

  “I’m not asking my campaign manager. It was a question for my closest friend.”

  “I think you could do better. More importantly, you deserve better.”

  “Then I will seek a better match,” he told her, wearing another one of his crooked smiles. The kind that brightened his eyes and made him seem more approachable than any other volcanic dragon Ēostre had ever met in her two thousand years.

  A palpable sense of relief rushed over her, and only then did Ēostre realize, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him with Mahuika — she didn’t want to see Maximilian with any dragoness.

  Because she wanted him for herself, and knew the day another female dragon chose him, it would also be the day she lost her closest friend. Losing Fafnir had been hard enough, but having Max stolen beyond her reach would be next to unforgivable.

  If you like someone, you must always tell them. The words spoken to her grandchild came back to haunt her.

  How could I possibly act on these feelings when he has never looked at me with anything more than the love for a friend? Ēostre wondered. Was her desire for Maximilian genuine and true attraction, or a lusty byproduct of a century-long period of abstinence while mourning?

  Contact with unrelated dragon males over the years since her awakening had been brief, and those she did talk to were often already bound in mated relationships. Ēostre frowned.

  “Is something wrong, Ēostre?”

  She shook her head and put a pleasant smile on her face. “I was only thinking of how correct you are about my need to indulge in some selfish activities.”

  “Ah. At last, this moment has come. I am the master and you are the apprentice. Let me train you, my young Padawan, in the art of putting oneself first.”

  Ēostre rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. “Are you quoting mortal movies at me again?” At least it was a decent one. “I can come up with something on my own, thanks.”

  “Are you sure? Last chance to back out.”

  “I’m not backing out. In fact, I have a great idea.”

  Maximilian’s
dubious expression delivered a blow to her ego, but she chuckled anyway and leaned close enough to hug him.

  “I know it’s only noon, but I’m going home. Astrid wants to cook dinner and I promised I’d return on time to eat it fresh from the oven.”

  “I see she takes after her mother.”

  Ēostre chuckled. “Saul has improved since that casserole disaster, thank you very much. You should join us. I’m sure she’d be happy to provide for her Uncle Max as well.”

  “A tempting offer but one I must take a rain check on. I have a few pressing business matters to conclude.”

  “Perhaps next time,” she said, pleased when he answered her with a smile.

  Unlike her son, who usually summoned his genie to sweep him along the California interstate to his mountainside retreat, she enjoyed the long drive and used the time to clear her head and unwind to music. She was halfway between Sacramento and the manor when an incoming call jarred her from her thoughts.

  “Did you forget something?” She forced a chipper tone after accepting the call through the automobile’s speakerphone.

  “I did,” his rich voice spilled from the speakers. “I had intended to ask something else of you before our conversation veered to tenser subjects regarding Mahuika. An invitation arrived this morning to Senator Duhane’s 55th birthday party next Friday. Care to join me?”

  “You’ve only invited me to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Naturally. I’ll be swarmed by single mortal women if I go alone.”

  “Ah, so I’m to be your guard.”

  “More like an oasis of sanity. So, will you attend with me, or shall I be forced to tread lightly on eggshells in fear of destroying your hard work on this campaign?”

  “At this point, Maximilian, you would have to pour gasoline over a box of kittens and spit fire on them to ruin what we’ve done.”

  “I know. But one can never be too cautious.”

  Chapter 8

  Ēostre stood within her daughter-in-law’s favorite department store, staring flabbergasted at the piece of metallic silver fabric dangling from her hands. If one could call it fabric at all. It was more like a slingshot. Or a shiny rubber band. She turned it over and flipped it, but viewing it from another angle didn’t make it magically expand.

  Struck by impulse, she whirled to face the nearest customer beside her. “Excuse me, would this suit me? Is it too small?”

  The other customer looked offended by the question, her youthful features contorting into an exaggerated, horrified mask. “Too small? Pffft, if I had your legs, I’d wear that thing everywhere just to have an excuse to show them off. I’d be pumping the gas in my bikini, girl.”

  “I’m not too old for it?”

  The girl couldn’t be older than thirty herself. Her brows raised a mile then she tossed her head back and laughed. “Are you shittin’ me? Nah. I’m probably older than you are. Get the bikini and rock your stuff at the beach. The weatherman said we’re going to have perfect weather for it this weekend.”

  “Awesome,” Ēostre said, testing the word. It felt strange, alien, but somehow right at the same time. She could get used to modern-day slang, even if her stubborn son continued to struggle with the change in the times.

  She swept a few more articles of clothing from the racks and checked out to hurry home and enact her master plan. Originally, she’d gone out to purchase the perfect cocktail dress for the senator’s birthday bash, when an oversized sign alerted her to an end-of-season blowout on swimwear.

  Ēostre was still on cloud nine when she reached Saul’s driveway.

  “Grandmother! Happy birthday!”

  While it all seemed to happen in slow motion, Ēostre felt powerless to stop it. One moment, she was crossing the driveway with shopping bags in hand, and in the next, her grandchild was streaking across the pavement as a bolt of fiery lightning and aurorous feathers, too quick for the human eye to track. “Happy birthday!” she cried again.

  “Astrid, no!”

  The child didn’t know her own strength or realize how quickly she’d grown into her dragon form. Two years ago, Astrid had been no larger than a shetland pony, but the creature who collided into Ēostre now outweighed a sedan.

  “Oh no!” Chloe cried from the porch.

  The collision sent Ēostre flying, and with no hope of coming out of it unscathed in her human body, she transformed in a blink. Pieces of Ēostre’s favorite pantsuit flew like confetti, expensive shreds of cream linen and silk fluttering in the breeze.

  If she’d braced herself against the impact in her dragon body, Astrid would have undoubtedly been hurt. Instead, Ēostre rolled with the momentum, all the while clutching the smaller cub against her chest.

  “Ēostre! Astrid! Are you both okay?” Chloe screamed from the porch.

  “I… I think so.” She and her grandbaby had rolled into the grass for several yards where they landed against a fence bordering one of Leiv’s pastures. “Your child hits like a hill giant.”

  As Saul and Chloe rushed across the grass to meet them, Ēostre lowered a sobbing dragon cub to the grass and frantically examined her for injuries.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

  “It is all right, sweetling. Where are you hurt? Where are you injured?”

  “I hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Astrid blubbered. “I’m sorry! I don’t know how it happened, I was running and suddenly—” Her sobs intensified, shaking her entire body.

  Ēostre didn’t find a single broken feather after running each of her clawed digits over Astrid’s body.

  “Is she hurt?” Chloe cried.

  “No. I must have protected her well,” Ēostre said, voice laced with uncertainty.

  “My daughter is strong,” Saul said. He brimmed with pride as he set his hand atop Astrid’s head and stroked the growing nubs curving back from her brow. Female dragons didn’t develop their horns until they reached breeding age. “There is no need to cry, little one. Your grandmother is fine.”

  “But I hurt her. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t mean to.”

  Chloe gazed helplessly up at Ēostre. Her daughter, in her dragon’s body, was taller than her by a foot and twice as broad.

  “Shhh, my love. I know. Come. Let your mother and I clean your face. I am quite fine, see?”

  Later, after Ēostre and Chloe had washed Astrid’s face and given their reassurances again, they enjoyed a peaceful family dinner. It was Ēostre’s 2244th birthday. Even though dragons only celebrated their bicentennials, Astrid always insisted on her father and grandmother acknowledging each year.

  “Has she gone to bed?” Ēostre asked when Chloe returned downstairs.

  “Oh yeah. She’s knocked out. All of the drama must have exhausted her, I guess. Plus she was outside with the zebras most of the day before you came home. She’s teaching them to trust her dragon form.”

  “Ah.” Ēostre pursed her lips and gazed out the window into the fading twilight.

  “What? You think it’s a bad idea?”

  “Oh, no, it was not the zebras on my mind. It was Astrid herself.”

  Concern wrinkled Chloe’s brow. “She feels really bad about it all still. I’m sorry about your suit…”

  Ēostre waved away her distressed apologies. “No true harm done. Only…”

  “Only what?”

  “She hit me dead on, Chloe. I… don’t understand how she came out of it uninjured. I tried my best to protect her, but something is wrong.”

  “I know.”

  “No, Chloe. You do not understand. The way she came at me was…” Ēostre slowly inhaled and closed her eyes, reliving the experience through her memories. “She became as a bolt of lightning itself. It is enough to make me believe the legends of St. George. Like Saul, she is fire and lightning, I believe, and perhaps something more.”

  “But I’m human. I don’t understand, Ēostre. A dragon and a human shouldn’t produce a stronger half-dragon.”

  Ēostre
shook her head. “While I do not understand it, I know what I saw and felt. Your child is very, very powerful, and if we do not begin to teach her to harness her powers safely, someone may be hurt next time.”

  Chloe loosed a long, slow breath. “Okay then. What can we do?”

  Ēostre liked that about Chloe. The woman took everything in stride.

  “I would like to ask Maximilian’s help with honing her fire abilities.”

  “Saul can’t teach her?”

  “Who do you think taught Saul?” she asked, chuckling. “You must understand, Astrid may not grow as fast as a human, but as far as dragons are concerned, she is a prodigy and far ahead of our learning curve. I nursed Saul until he turned thirty-one.”

  Chloe wrinkled her nose, failing to suppress the horror emerging on her face. “Ēostre. That’s ahh…”

  “That is equivalent to a human toddler.” Ēostre raised a hand about two feet from the floor, indicating a very, very tiny person. “I told you that for the sake of comparison.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Chloe’s face smoothed and the furrow in her brow disappeared. “Whoa. That kinda sucks. I hope he was at least a good one.”

  Ēostre laughed again and hugged her daughter-in-law. “Our children develop slowly, Chloe. Very slowly, but for us the years seem to pass as days. Saul was an amazing cub, with none of his father’s temperament,” she said. “My friends envied me, and we loved him dearly.”

  As Ēostre curled up on her corner of the sofa with the remote to the television, Chloe fiddled with the corner of a couch pillow. Time together as friends came naturally, a relief to both women when they began to explore everyday activities together with Astrid.

  “Saul makes it very easy to love him,” Chloe chuckled. “Ēostre, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “How did Saul and Brigid wind up promised to one another? As far as I could tell, they didn’t even like each other.”

  “They didn’t,” Ēostre replied. “It was a match made between Max and Fafnir. We had hoped to ally our families through a bond stronger than friendship.”