“Of course. He called frequently while you were sleeping, and Ian even visited. His people are turning the Secret Service inside out right now and getting to the bottom of how a dragonslayer got past the vetting process.”
Max grunted. “I’m not sure if you realize this, but we don’t ask government officials if they have an undying hatred for paranormal creatures during typical interviewing procedures.”
“Maybe it should be added to the application,” she teased lightly. “I’ll get you a phone, or I’ll bring Kenneth to you.”
After arrangements were made on the phone, Ēostre coordinated a meeting between Max, Kenneth, and a small number of agents cleared to take over Max’s protection. They talked White House business while Ēostre hovered protectively at her recovering husband’s side and refused to budge. She internally vowed to turn them inside out if they so much harmed a single feather on his wings.
“It’s a pleasure to be reassigned to you, President Emberthorn,” one of the young men said. He had the smell of a bear on his skin, and the broad-shouldered bulk of a grizzly. One of Ian’s, no doubt. “I’m Agent Jim Pellman.”
“And I am Agent Charles Price,” the second agent said. A normal human nose wouldn’t detect anything, but Max smelled wet dog. A hound of some kind with dark brown hair and big, bloodshot eyes. He stood about average male height with broad, muscular shoulders, and had a habit of sniffing occasionally.
One by one the new agents introduced themselves, two humans accompanying the pair of new shapeshifters. Each of them had been selected by Ian himself.
“I’m glad to see you’re on the mend, Max, and I won’t be the only one. Most media outlets have been hailing you as a hero since it happened. And the ones who aren’t… fuck ‘em,” the vice president said in a rare use of vulgarity.
Max chuckled and pushed up into a sitting position. The sudden movement brought him to a towering height above the group of men. The two human agents fell back a few steps, and their jaws dropped while their eyes focused on his enormous teeth. Knowing he was a dragon and seeing it with their own two eyes changed everything. The slightest movement from him renewed their awe, as well as well-deserved fear.
And he had to respect them for suppressing their flight or fight responses, something many humans failed to control the first time they made contact with a dragon.
“What’s the official story as far as I’m concerned?”
Kenneth cleared his throat. “You’re at a secure medical facility making a swift recovery. The nation is not without a leader. You should, uh, see the amount of bouquets and other, er, gifts arriving at the White House.”
“Gifts?” Ēostre asked.
“Someone sent a longhorn steer all the way from Texas,” Agent Price spoke up in amusement. “We found a rancher willing to take him.”
“In the meantime, we’ve asked the public to refrain from further gifts, and to make donations to your preferred charities instead. Military veterans, foster children, and the like.”
“Ah. Excellent,” Max said. “Anything else?”
“Well… there is one other thing,” Kenneth said.
One of the agents snickered briefly.
“What is it?” Max asked, suspicious of the break in Pellman’s solemn expression. “If it’s funny, I could use the laughter. We all could.”
“Did you want us to keep the virgins around? They’ve been showing up in droves.”
Ēostre twisted around to stare at him. “What?”
Kenneth wiped at his eyes, unable to contain his laughter. “We’ve had women showing up at the gates, asking to be virgin sacrifices. They’re out there almost every day now, hoping to heal their president with their, and I quote, ‘innocence and purity.’”
Ēostre groaned into her hands but Max’s chest rumbled with full-bellied laughter.
“I’m sure a few of them aren’t actual virgins, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it was unicorns that had the preference for chastity?” Agent Pellman asked.
“Alas, we haven’t seen nor heard from any unicorn in many centuries. As far as I know, they’ve died out,” Ēostre answered. “And really, the whole virgin thing is a man-made myth. They don’t taste any different, believe me.”
Max’s head swiveled around to face his wife. He stared. “You told me you’ve never eaten a princess before.”
She snorted. “As if every virgin must be a princess? Or a girl for that matter? Honestly, my love.”
“Right then.” Kenneth cleared his throat. “We’ll have the virgin matter cleared up soon enough, but I imagine it won’t be the last time we see such groupies. Some group held a rally in New York City the other evening to support vampires who have come out into the open.”
“Loonies,” Pellman muttered under his breath. “How is that going to work, exactly?”
Max and Ēostre exchanged glances before turning back to the expectant faces watching them.
“The vampires,” Ēostre began, “have always managed their own affairs with some loose guidelines set by the Dragon Council. Most of their blood comes from blood banks, actually. Or willing feeders.”
“It doesn’t stop some from killing, though,” Max continued. “It’s in their nature. However, there are, and will continue to be, severe consequences if they are caught. The same as any other murderer out there.”
“Same as with any human out in the world, right, sir?” Agent Newton, one of the two humans, asked with a quizzical expression on his face. “The way I see it, nothing breaks the law as long as it’s safe and consensual.”
“Correct,” Max said. “Which is the stance I shall take over the next few years as I navigate this topic from the oval office.”
“Speaking of, when will you be coming back? Not that I’m rushing you, of course.” Kenneth flashed him a quick grin. “Everyone has been anxious to see you.”
“I should be able to take my human form again in a few days. Ēostre won’t allow me to try for now. It’s too taxing,” he explained to the group of them. “In the meantime, please assure the media of my recovery and health.”
“Of course,” Kenneth said. “Ēostre, take good care of him for us. We should leave you to your rest. If any other important matters arise, I’ll contact you by phone.”
Max laid back down while Ēostre saw the men back to the White House, courtesy of magic. Kenneth mumbled something about it being a great way to save on travel costs before he stepped through to his office.
“Can I come sit with you now?”
He turned his head toward the doorway where Astrid peeked out at him. “Of course, my dear. You know I’m always happy to see you.”
Astrid moved over and took a seat by his head on the grass. For a while she was quiet, and Max was content with her company alone. Ēostre rejoined them a few minutes later with snacks in hand.
“You look thoughtful, little one,” Max told the girl. “What weighs on your mind?”
“It’s okay to ask a question?”
“Any time,” Ēostre assured her.
“Why do the dragonslayers hate us?” Astrid asked. “What did we ever do to make them want to exterminate all dragons?”
Max inhaled a deep breath. No one had ever asked him the question before, and he wasn’t sure if he had the answer she wanted. “Because, my sweet, for every four dragons like your father, Uncle Teo, grandmother, and myself, there is another type of dragon that thrives on chaos. Dragons who live to hurt others by killing humans and causing pain. Dragons like my father and my daughter, who died many years ago, are cruel beasts who live for the glory of battle.”
“I don’t understand the difference. You and Daddy told me stories about fighting knights and razing villages.” Her brows knit, creating a big wrinkle in the center of her forehead. “Dragons brought it on themselves, then?”
“No, it’s actually quite different. They would go in search of a dragon, and when a knight brought the battle to me, I ended it swiftly. Of course there were times
when it became necessary to rain hell on a kingdom to prove I was not to be trifled with, but for the most part, I desired nothing but peace. This is how many dragons lived, and also how we acquired our hoards. To the winner go the spoils. We occupied a volcano, an island, or even an underwater cave, then we left their kind alone,” Max answered her.
“But they hunted you anyway?”
“Yes,” Ēostre said.
“Why not move?” the girl asked curiously.
“Do you remember the lovely dollhouse you and I made a few years ago?” Ēostre asked.
“Yes. It’s beautiful. It’s my favorite toy, and Svetlana’s too.”
“So it is. Now, imagine you have taken as much time, if not more, to build a real home. You spend weeks, or even months carving your bedrooms. Collecting your jewels. You grow attached to this hoard constructed by your own hands,” Ēostre began.
“Okay.”
“Now imagine you have stepped outside to collect dinner. A human sees you, and later returns with an army. You are told to leave.”
“Hell no,” Astrid said, shaking her head.
Somehow Max managed to withhold his laughter at her defiant swear. Instead, he picked up where Ēostre left off.
“They have axes and swords, they have decided to force you to go, or worse, to kill you for reasons which may have nothing to do with actual fear of you. Perhaps they want to pull the skin from your carcass for their mightiest champions, and use your bones for their lances. Would you leave your home to sate their prejudice? It’s easy to fly away, little one. Fighting to keep one’s home is difficult whether it is against knights in armor or slayers. I have taken many human lives, and while I jest about defeating kingdoms, I don’t miss those days of war.”
Astrid’s lips pursed while she considered everything. “Why haven’t dragons killed all of the slayers yet if they’re so dangerous?”
“They’re not easy to find, Astrid, and only a sorceress like your grandmother can smell the old soul in them.”
“Not always,” Ēostre added. “I didn’t smell the lad who planted the bomb. His blood may have thinned too much from his ancestors.”
“Besides, how would that make us any better than them?” Max asked in a gentle tone.
Ēostre nodded her agreement. “Aside from that, do you remember our conversation about witches?”
“Yes. They’re immortals like us, but their bodies aren’t. They reincarnate, right?”
“Exactly so. Such is also true for dragonslayers. They were born from the blood of a wizard named Merlin,” Ēostre explained. “And this is what makes them dangerous, little one. They remember, they hold grudges, they know us. I’ve encountered the same slayer five times in my life, and he once wounded me so deeply I slept for a year to recover.”
“But we don’t reincarnate. The reason our soul bonds end upon death is because we disperse into the cosmos.”
“Exactly,” Ēostre confirmed sadly. “Your… Fafnir is the first dragon to ever return from the dead in the history of our kind.”
“I wish he’d go away,” Astrid muttered. “He makes everyone unhappy, and he doesn’t feel like a person. He doesn’t even eat.”
Doesn’t feel like a person, Max echoed in his mind, as disturbed by her utterance as he was by the realization it was true. Something felt acutely wrong about his old friend. It didn’t just feel wrong. It smelled wrong, like the air around him had become contaminated by his presence.
“Is… Is that why you did not want to greet him?” Ēostre hadn’t pushed the girl about her revulsion to Fafnir at their first meeting, and in all of the drama that occurred afterward, none of them had thought to ask why.
“Fafnir scares me, Grandma. He isn’t like your stories and doesn’t feel right.” She turned her eyes to Max. “Please make him leave, Grandpa.”
“I can’t do that, love. This isn’t my home,” he reminded her in a gentle voice. “Only your father and mother could do that. It’s up to them to decide when they’ve had enough.”
In true childlike fashion, Astrid continued to talk and offer up tidbits. Her blue eyes were wide and adoring, focused on Max while she talked. “He and Daddy talk sometimes, and he hurts Daddy’s feelings. I don’t care what he says about me, but I don’t like the things he says about Mom. Or you two.” She bit her lower lip and hesitated. “He talks the most about Mom and you, and it’s always hateful things,” she said to Ēostre.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ēostre flinch.
Realizing that she’d made a faux pas, Astrid frowned and climbed to her feet. “I should let you rest. Can I come back later?”
Max smiled. “Of course.”
“She’s right, you know,” Ēostre whispered after Astrid went inside. “Fafnir is not right. He…” She sighed and shook her head. “I know our memories tend to shine people in the best light, but his recent displays of malice contradict everything I know.”
“Come here.” Max wrapped his claws around Ēostre and tugged her against his chest. Maybe he couldn’t change the circumstances surrounding her former mate’s return, but he could provide the comfort she deserved.
Chapter 22
His return to the White House had been met with genuine warmth and well wishes. Of course, the official medical personnel wanted to ensure his good health and oversee the remainder of his recovery. They even attempted to convince him to see a doctor at Bethesda, but he gently declined, reminding them all he’d survived a couple dozen centuries without anyone’s medical expertise.
He couldn’t argue with Ēostre, however. She kept him confined to their residence and reprised her role as his personal nurse, little changing between her behavior at Saul’s home and the White House.
As much as he appreciated the pampering, long days on the couch and in bed bored him, making Max more than ready to get back to the job.
“Why don’t we find a movie on Netflix?” Ēostre suggested from the doorway.
When alone in their residence and away from the eyes of the public, she favored oversized shirts. This one fell off her shoulder, revealing the thin strap of a lace camisole beneath. She wore tight-fitting leggings with it, showing off her lithe silhouette. When she stretched, the shirt raised, revealing the hint of a tummy she’d gained due to her new life in the White House, late nights eating chocolates in bed, and the world-class meals their chef insisted were necessary. Max grinned. He loved every inch of her. “I’ll see about when dinner will be ready, and we can… what do they call it?”
“Netflix and Chill, love.”
“Yes that. We will chill,” she offered cheerfully. A sly smile curved her lips. “I’ll let housekeeping know we’ll require privacy this evening.”
Max perked up and straightened in his seat. Either Ēostre was ignorant to the true meaning of Netflix and Chill, or she’d just discreetly tipped him off that he was officially off bedrest. The lack of intimacy since their abbreviated honeymoon had dampened his spirits as much as the return of Fafnir.
“All right. The news is nearly over,” he replied, grinning back at her. “I’ll finish that up and find something traumatizing.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and flounced into the hall to harass the chef. Everything about her today was a happy contrast to the morose caretaker who had barely laughed since his injury. She was smiling again. Radiant.
And fuck, he really missed the sex, and had secretly feared Fafnir’s return had disrupted something between them. Ēostre swore the soul bond between her and the other red dragon had been severed by death, but pain had given Max irrational ideas and thoughts in his head.
Eager to begin their night together, he tuned in to the last news segment. A young blonde woman sat behind the news desk, a bright smile on her airbrushed face. She didn’t have a single pore or crease, her makeup applied with absolute precision.
“The exposure of supernatural creatures has brought a variety of people out into the open. While the news has been a dream come true for many people a
round the world, some are not happy with what’s taken place.”
The news report cut from the girl to protesters waving signs. A man with a football player’s physique stood on the stage, dressed in neatly tailored slacks and a button-down shirt.
Slayer. Without a doubt, it’s what the man had to be. The news identified David Mitchell as a retired Navy Seal, forty-three years old with twenty years of service behind him. He had the body of a soldier half his age. Max stilled, able to read the body language, the poise, the shit-eating confidence that David exuded whenever he addressed the crowd. Most of all, Max recognized the face. He’d seen it before. Slayers were eternal.
“Are we going to allow these beasts hold us hostage?” the dragonslayer asked the crowd. “History has proven they cannot be trusted. How can we put our trust in a president who isn’t even human?”
The gathered crowd cheered the man on and waved their signs in the air. “Down with dragons!” they cried out.
“We need to out these monsters. We need to let them know they have no place among us, or even in this world.”
The news segment swapped back to the reporter who gave the camera a solemn stare. “Similar protests have been taking place across the country today and around the globe.”
Max punched the power button on the remote, dimming the screen just as the news displayed a poster for the Anti-Dragon Movement. It was only another name — the current name — for the Knights of Merlin, a group known throughout draconic history for persecuting his kind at the behest of a mad scholar. The group to which all dragonslayers belonged.
Their ideas sickened him and caused a general sense of unease in most civilized parts of the world. Instead of banding together, people now accused their neighbors of outlandish acts, from animal sacrifice to cheating their taxes with magic.
Kenneth was right about the media labeling him as a hero, but for every word of praise, he received two more in condemnation.
His mood plummeted.
“Maybe this was all a mistake,” he grunted once he smelled Ēostre in the room again. He didn’t turn to look at her, only glowered at the remote in his hand. “I should resign.”
Smitten Page 22