Fiat’s eyes narrowed. He leaned toward me, sniffing. “Why is it you smell different?”
“I really don’t think a discussion about my choice of deodorant or bath powder is at all enlightening, but if you really want the names of both, I’ll be happy to give them to you.”
“No,” he said, suddenly lunging at me until his nose was buried in the crook of my neck.
“Hey!” I said, trying to push him away. Minding my p’s and q’s was one thing—full frontal sniffage was another! “Knock it off! Um. Please knock it off.”
“You want me to rip him a new one?” Jim asked. Amelie looked confused.
“Of course not. Don’t be silly,” I said, trying for a light, dismissive laugh. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get bent out of shape, even though this really was over the line. “Fiat is just overly impressed by my perfume. I’ll have to write the makers a testimonial letter.”
Jim snorted in disbelief.
“It is not perfume or chemicals you have applied to yourself that I smell,” Fiat answered, finally giving in to my (polite) shoves. He sat in his chair for a moment, his fingers stroking his chin as he watched me. “It is something about you that has changed. Some…chemical change in your body.” Crystalline heat flared to life in his eyes. “Are you breeding?”
“What?” I squawked, in so loud a voice that several people looked over at us. Amelie smothered a much more quiet gasp.
Jim wasn’t anywhere near as subtle. “Now. Let me rip him to shreds now. Pretty please with sugar on top?”
Everyone ignored the demon.
“Are you breeding Drake’s child? Are you pregnant?”
It took me a few minutes to get myself under control. “You know, I think I’m just going to pass on answering that question. My personal life, my relationship with Drake—anything that doesn’t have a bearing on the peace between the dragons—is not going to be a topic I will discuss with you.”
Under the table, out of sight of Fiat, Jim leaned over and drooled on his expensive, shiny shoes.
“Hmm.” Fiat’s finger tapped on his chin as he continued to inspect me as if I might sprout a BABY ON BOARD sign. “You are human. Drake is a wyvern…no. You are correct. Any dragonkin you have will not have a bearing on the future. They will not become wyverns.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re seeing it my way, but I’ve got to say I don’t see Drake as an old man handing over control of the sept to anyone but a child of his—not that we’re having any, but as long as we’re being hypothetical, I think you’re wrong. He certainly would want one of our children to be wyvern after him.”
Fiat rose from his chair with swift elegance. “You have much to learn of our ways, cara. Your ignorance is al most as dazzling as the whiteness of your breasts.”
I looked down at my chest for a minute, making sure my boobs weren’t suddenly popping out of my sundress. They weren’t. I bit back yet another retort.
“Such rigid control you have over yourself,” Fiat said, shaking his head. “Not only is your mind perfectly blocked from mine, you will not even play that delightful teasing game we have so enjoyed in the past. I wonder how long it will last?”
I let that go, too. Words—in this instance—couldn’t hurt me. Fiat was right in that I had slipped my mental barriers into place the instant I saw him. He had a particular talent for mind reading, and I wanted to be sure that he knew my mind was definitely off limits.
“What about now?” Jim asked, glaring at Fiat. “Please? That boob comment was over the top.”
“No. Nice to see you again,” I said noncommittally to Fiat as he stepped back from the table. I struggled to summon up one last bit of polite banter. “Are you staying in Paris for a while?”
His fingers caressed the stem of the wineglass, his eyelids dropping until he gazed at me with a look so sultry, it set off the hairs on the back of my neck. “Drake has broken your spirit. I preferred you fiery and uncontrolled. I must see what I can do to restore you to your former state, breeding or not.”
“Now?” Jim asked, a plea in its voice.
I shot it a glance that told it to be quiet. “Fiat, you know well that if you laid one little finger on me, Drake would bring you down. So, much as I enjoy this bandying of wits, I’ll simply say good-bye. Au revoir.”
“Pah,” he said, a flicker of annoyance visible in his eyes for a moment before he stalked off to where his bodyguards were waiting.
I gave the three of them a polite, tight smile of recognition and turned back to Amelie with a sigh of relief. “Whew. That was hairier than I thought it would be. Breeding! Have you ever?”
“Fire hounds of Abaddon, Aisling! What’s with you? You let him get away without once siccing me on him!” You wouldn’t think a Newfie’s face could express many emotions, but the way Jim worked, it could have been on the stage. Outrage, frustration, and speculative malignancy each took a turn on its face.
“It’s called acting like an adult, and since when are you so hot and bothered to defend me to a dragon?”
Jim sniffed and turned away.
Amelie gave it an interested look. “What class of demon are you, Jim?”
The demon was silent.
“I’m sorry, Amelie; it has no manners tonight,” I told her. “Jim, I realize you don’t have to answer questions that anyone asks you other than me, but in the polite world, when someone asks you something, you answer. Please do so.”
“So, are you preggers?” Jim asked instead, looking up when the waitress brought it a hamburger on a pretty yellow plate. “That would explain a lot.”
I set down the glass of spicy, fire-inducing (often quite literally) beverage that only dragons and their mates could drink without dire consequences and laid my hands flat on the table, looking Jim firmly in the eye. “Not that this is anyone’s business, but no, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure?” Jim spat out a bit of pickle. “You haven’t gone psycho hormone woman and demanded gallons of chocolate ice cream in what…six weeks? That sounds pregnant to me.”
“Oh, for god’s sake…one more word about this, and you’re off to Akasha until I get home.”
“I wonder what Drake is going to say when he finds out?” Jim asked between licks of the now-empty plate. “I bet he goes nuts—heyyyyy…”
I spoke the words that sent the demon into limbo so quickly, it had no time to do anything but look startled.
“Sorry, Amelie. Jim’s been a bit, well, off the last few weeks. It kept telling me its heart was broken, and we both know that demons don’t have hearts, but even so, I think it really was unhappy about not seeing Cecile. Looks like we’re going to have to set up regular visits to keep it happy.”
Amelie blinked at me a couple of times. I figured she was making all sorts of mental comments about Americans and their snarky demons.
“I do not believe I have ever met anyone like you,” she finally said.
“Is that good? It sounds like it could be a compliment, but knowing Jim, maybe you meant that in a less than sterling way.”
She just looked at me with mild brown eyes.
I sighed. “Gotcha. You mean that I’m weird. It’s OK. I’ve pretty much come to grips with that. Moving on…what did Fiat mean about one of my kids—not that I’m going to have one anytime soon, and I’m not sure that Drake and I are going to be able to work things out, but assuming that miracles can happen and we do, what was all that about one of our kids not being wyvern after Drake?”
“That is something for you to talk to him about,” she said, her lips making the thin line that I knew meant she wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any further information.
“But you know the answer?”
She nodded.
“Criminy. Why does no one ever want to tell me any thing?” I groused quietly to myself as I took another sip of the dragon’s-blood beverage. Heat roared through me, causing a few stray flickers to erupt from my fingertips. Absently, I slapped them out. “It’s li
ke some sort of guessing game and everyone knows the rules but me. I hate that sort of thing. It makes me want to take my ball and go home.”
“You still do not have a true understanding of what it is you’ve agreed to do,” Amelie said, shaking her head. “Aisling, this is not a game you play. You hold many people’s lives in the flat of your hand, and I fear that one day, you will destroy them without knowing it.”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, Amelie—I didn’t mean to appear flip. You may not believe it, but I’m very cognizant of my responsibilities to the dragons. Hence my rather strained restraint with Fiat earlier. And I know Jim would say I’m whining, but some times I feel like everything is stacked up against me, and there’s no way I’m ever going to find my way out.”
“You will,” she said, signaling for the check. She plopped a couple of coins on the table. “You must simply embrace all of the possibilities.”
“Right. Like the possibility that I’m not going to go insane, and someday, I will understand everything.” I snatched up my purse and followed Amelie through the crowded floor of the club to the door. Once again, a magical aisle opened up for us, and I was aware again of being the focus of many people’s attention. It was a very creepy feeling.
“That is one possibility, yes. How much time do you have?” she asked as we made our way out of the club into the soft evening air, bright lights, and nonstop low drone of chatter that make up Paris on a summer night.
“Eeek. About twenty minutes. Is it far to the train station?”
“Non. We will walk there.”
Security issues being what they are, we had to part at the outer lobby of the train station. Amelie embraced me, her smile warm and empowering.
“You will do what is right, so long as you always leave yourself open to the possibilities. Be true to yourself, and everything will fall into place,” was her parting advice. I wished her well in return and told her I’d give her a call in a few days to set up a time when Jim could come to visit Cecile again.
I’d arrived earlier than required at the train station, had ample time to get through customs, and soon found myself wandering around the departure area, waiting for our slightly delayed train to arrive. Even though it was late at night, the station was crowded with English tourists returning home after a day spent shopping and sightseeing. The station was a cacophony of the usual train station noises—people talking and laughing, children running around screeching as they played tag or just generally got in the way of people trying to move through the mass of bodies, music coming from the fringes, where several street musicians had set up competing stations, and occasional blasts of static-filled, unintelligible announcements from the train company, in what I assumed was French, English, and German.
Since I wanted to get a good seat facing forward, I edged my way along the platform until I found a tourist-free spot near the far end—away from most of the crowds, but not positioned so I’d end up at the dining car.
“Aisling! What is the most charming Guardian of my acquaintance doing in Paris? I thought you had gone to London to train with Nora.”
I spun around at the deep, slightly accented voice, more than a little startled to behold a familiar face flashing a dimpled smile at me.
“Gabriel! What on earth are you doing here? Your last e-mail said you had to go home to take care of something.”
“I did, but I’ve been summoned by your mate. Is that the train?”
A cheer from the waiting passengers and a whoosh of noise and air heralded the arrival of the now-late train. I stepped to the edge of the platform to see around the crowd, turning back to tell the silver wyvern that the train was in fact coming.
The words never left my mouth. Before I could turn completely, I was struck by a tremendous blow on the small of my back, sending me hurtling onto the train tracks, directly in the path of the arriving train.
5
Pain burst into glorious life on my side, pain that exploded into agony as my arm was damn near yanked out of its socket. Before my brain had time to process the fact that I’d been knocked onto the track, I was off it again, jerked beyond it to the other side of the platform.
A couple of people nearest me screamed, but the noise was eaten up with the arrival of the train as it came to a stop a few scant feet behind me.
A shriek of horror mingled with pain burbled up as I found myself pressed against a hard, unmoving body. My brain finally caught up to reality, causing me to shake with the nearness of my certain demise.
“Oh, my god,” I said, clinging with desperate gratitude to the man who had saved me. Thank god for Gabriel. I had no idea what he was doing at the train station at that moment, but I would, until my last days on the earth, be grateful he was there when I needed him. “Oh, my god, oh, my god. Oh, my god.”
“Not god, cara. The next best thing, though.”
“I was almost killed,” I told Gabriel’s chest, great, huge, heaving sobs of terror and relief trying to rip free of my constricted throat. My arm and rib cage hurt like the very devil, but all I could think of was how nice it was to be alive and feeling pain considering how near I had been to death. “Oh, my god. I almost died.”
“You are a wyvern’s mate. Death does not come easily to one such as you, although I will admit you could well have been decapitated by the train, and that would indeed have been the end to the brave little Guardian.”
Horribly vivid, gruesome images came to mind that had me clutching Gabriel even harder. Two train officials ran up to ask questions, but Gabriel spoke rapidly in French I couldn’t begin to follow, and before I knew it, he was trying to pry me from his chest. “We are attracting unwelcome attention. Come, cara, I will escort you home.”
“I know I’m immortal, but that train could have smashed me to pulp. Or cut me up into a gazillion pieces. Or…or…oh, my god!”
Gabriel gently unclasped my arms from where they were wrapped around his waist, easing me back from his chest.
My brain did a mental jaw drop that just about had me on my knees in surprise. The man who had saved me from certain death wasn’t Gabriel—it was Fiat.
“What…what…Fiat?”
“Ah, your wits return to you. Excellent. This way, cara.”
My wits hadn’t returned. That’s the only reason I can think of that Fiat got me almost out of the train station before I realized what he was doing.
“Wait,” I said, pulling my arm from his grasp, looking around me wildly. We were at the entrance of the departure area, next to a bank of metal detectors and security people checking everyone who came into the station. “This isn’t right. I’m going home.”
“Si. My home. Renaldo?” Fiat inclined his head to ward the big blond behemoth who had been in front of us. I recognized him as one of Fiat’s bodyguards, a man who, like his wyvern, was utterly ruthless when it came to get ting his own way.
“I am not going home with you,” I said in a low, deter mined voice, taking a few steps to the side so Fiat couldn’t grab me. “Look, I appreciate the fact that you just saved my life—I’m more grateful than I can ever say—but I am not going home with you. I’m going to my own home, where I can sit and cry for a good day or so to work through the horror of being shoved in front of an oncoming train. So, thank you a thousand times for the rescue, but no thanks to the domestic arrangements.”
I turned to walk away, but Fiat grabbed my arm, pulling me up close to his body. I was reminded again just how well built the man was—I swear there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He was as rock solid as Drake. “Cara, you owe me your life. You will come with me now so that we might discuss how you can pay this debt.”
His fingers bit hard into my upper arm. I turned my head slowly and narrowed my eyes at him, meeting his sapphire gaze without a single waver. “If you do not let go of me in the next three seconds, I am going to scream.”
“You will not make a scene,” he answered, yanking me hard toward the exit.
“One, two, three,” I said quickly, then opened my mouth in an eardrum-piercing scream. “He’s got a bomb!” I pointed at Fiat. “Terrorist!”
Fiat swore under his breath as he dropped my arm and spun around, his hands up as the security people rushed toward him, guns at the ready. A second before they reached us, Fiat’s mind brushed mine.
I am not through with you, cara.
Goose bumps marched up my arm despite the warmth of the evening. I rubbed them as the swarm of security people descended upon us both, three-quarters of them pouncing on Fiat, the rest surrounding me, belting me with questions in French.
Five hours later I dragged myself from a ubiquitous black London taxicab, bruised, battered, exhausted, and on the verge of what felt like a breakdown. I weaved slightly.
“You are sure you are all right, mon amie?”
I nodded and waved a limp hand at Rene. “Fine. Pay you tomorrow.”
“Peh. The payment, she is not important. You are. Get some rest, and then call me tomorrow and tell me exactly what happened.”
“K. Night. Thanks for picking me up,” I answered wearily, staggering slightly as I headed for the door to the stairs that would lead me up to sanctuary.
“Anytime, my friend, anytime.” Rene sped off in a cloud of diesel fumes as I crawled my way up to Nora’s apartment, too tired to dig the key out of my purse. I thudded on the door a couple of times, leaning heavily on it as my brain whirled around in a circle of residual shock and horror, pain, and exhaustion.
“Aisling? Is that…oh, my lord. Are you all right?” The door suddenly swung open, causing me to stagger into the living room. I righted myself and stood swaying for a moment, blinking in the bright lights Nora had turned on.
“Yeah, I’m OK. Just sore and tired. Going to take a bath.”
“But—what happened to you? Is your French friend all right?”
“Fine,” I said, stumbling to the bathroom. “Tell you all about it in the morning. Jim, I summon thee.”
My demon appeared in a puff of black demon smoke, its mouth open to harangue me for leaving it so long in limbo, but for once Jim had the foresight to not light into me.
Light My Fire Page 5