Diana sat up, jolted from her preoccupation. It sounded like the smoke alarm. “Good God, the house is on fire!” She swung her legs off the bed and headed for the stairs.
As she ran down them barefoot, she heard Llyr growling something that sounded like Sidhe curses. Smoke boiled from the kitchen door in a thick blue cloud that smelled of burning meat.
“Llyr! What are you doing?” Diana strode into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway long enough to reach up and key off the smoke alarm.
“I was trying to fix you lunch,” he growled, shaking one hand and glaring at a chunk of partially carbonized meat. “I keep forgetting I don’t have powers. I reached in to grab it and burned my hand.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete!” She went to him and grabbed the hand he was shaking. The tips of two fingers were red. “Boy, you did toast yourself, didn’t you? Come here.” She towed him by the forearm over to the kitchen sink, turned on the cold water, and thrust his burned fingers under the flow.
“Ow!” He tried to pull back. “That hurts!”
“Quit being a baby, you big fairy. It’ll help, I promise.”
Llyr subsided and let her hold his hand under the water, still muttering musical Sidhe curses. Finally he wound down enough to ask, “There are not supposed to be flames in that oven of yours, are there?”
She looked up, alarmed. “Something caught on fire?”
“I blew it out.” Blond wisps of hair had escaped his ponytail, leaving him looking adorably handsome and sullen. “Stupid device. One would think mortals would build things that worked the way they were supposed to.”
Diana bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Go figure,” she agreed.
He looked into her eyes and grinned. “That’s better.”
“What?”
“That smile. If I cannot feed you, at least I can entertain.” He leaned forward and took her mouth in a kiss.
It started out mixed with laughter and self-depreciation, but Llyr was too dedicated a lover to leave it at that. A mo ment later, the kiss began to heat, became a lazy mating of lips and tongues. Pulling his hand from hers, he wrapped wet fingers around her shoulders and drew her close.
He felt so tall and strong and good against her. And whether he’d screwed it up or not, he’d been trying to feed her. He’d wanted her to feel better.
He cared about her.
And God, she cared about him. Not just because he was gorgeous and exotic and King of the Sidhe, not because he was brave and powerful, but because he was Llyr Galatyn, talented lover and lousy cook, funny and bright and an arrogant pain in the butt.
She was in love with him.
Diana moaned against his mouth and tried to pull back, shaken by the realization, but Llyr’s arms tightened around her.
Before she could muster her defenses, he swept her up off her feet and strode out of the kitchen, carrying her like a doll. She yelped. “Where are we going?”
“Bed,” he growled. “I’m cursed if I’ll make love to you with the smell of burned cow in my nose.”
She should tell him no, Diana knew, as he carried her up the stairs. Every time he touched her, she just fell deeper.
And yet…her life was going to hell. The only thing she had left was the pleasure of Llyr Galatyn’s big body. And it would take a bigger fool than Diana London to turn away.
So when he swung her on the bed and followed her down, she wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she’d never let go.
His mouth sealed over hers in a sweet, deep kiss. She opened to him with a despairing moan and let him take her as he chose.
Yet he was tender with her rather than possessive, offering comfort with each stroke of tongue or lip over hers. She felt herself relaxing against him, melting into the warm strength of his body. He made a soft, encouraging sound against her mouth, one hand cradling her head, a thumb stroking her temple. His free hand slid down her body, pausing to dole out gentle caresses to breast and hip and thigh, soothing her. Deep inside her spirit, something wounded responded, releasing its bitter grasp on pain.
Then Llyr started taking off her clothes.
With each button, he paused to kiss, to murmur words of encouragement and praise.
It felt as though he loved her.
Diana caught her breath, entranced with the idea that Llyr Galatyn might feel the same tender adoration for her that she felt for him.
It was a stupid love, yes. She knew that quite well, but she didn’t care. It was all she had.
But if he felt something, too, perhaps it wasn’t as stupid as all that…
Then warm lips closed over one hard nipple, and he began to suck, tongue tip swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling. She let her head fall back and moaned.
He licked and tasted each breast in turn, slowly, lazily, before beginning a nibbling trek down her belly. Knowing what he intended, she threaded her hands through his long, silken hair. Reaching his objective, he pulled her thighs apart and bent to nuzzle.
His tongue flicked down between the soft petals of her sex, found her clitoris. Laved it until she had to undulate her hips against his face.
She murmured soft encouragement that grew more demanding as he kept licking, each tender tongue thrust driving her another increment toward orgasm.
The pleasure rolled up, sudden and surprising, a sweet little pop of warmth. Diana groaned and shuddered, mindless.
But even as the first ripples faded, Llyr settled between her legs, caught his cock in one hand, and presented it to her sex. He slid inside, smooth and tight and filling. Diana moaned in need as he began to thrust.
“Oh, God, that’s…Yes!” she whispered.
“Mmm,” he purred in agreement, and bent low over her to murmur something rasping in Sidhe, the words both guttural and oddly lilting. Diana wrapped both legs around his butt and held on as he worked his cock in and out in strokes that quickly lengthened into driving jolts. Each one pushed her a little closer to another sweet explosion.
Until, at last, she could take no more. The second climax rolled free, hot and sweet, shaking her deliciously until she collapsed under him, panting.
He drove to the balls and froze with a soft, triumphant shout, coming, groaning something in Sidhe that sounded oddly reverent.
Almost like “I love you.”
Diana lay still, listening to his panting breaths slow and calm. She wanted desperately to stay just as she was, warm and unthinking, but unfortunately, her rebellious mind refused to cooperate.
In a few hours, she’d have to meet with the council, who would likely fire her.
Ugly word.
When it was over, what then? The vampire was still at large, still killing. And Llyr was still in danger. Yet without the authority of being city manager, how was Diana supposed to fight her? The council wouldn’t let her remain a reserve officer.
There had to be something Diana could do, some way she could defend herself against the accusations. Some way to save her job.
The maddening thing was that everything she’d done all along the line had been justified. She’d had good reasons for it all, up to and including sleeping with Llyr—she just couldn’t explain any of them.
Under normal circumstances the council might find a way to turn a blind eye. Diana was well liked, after all, and she had pulled the town out of its financial tailspin.
The problem was that Clara Davies had an axe to grind about that abusive son of hers. Given that, Clara’s influence among her wide circle of friends, and the mayor’s general lack of balls at election time, and Diana was in deep trouble with little hope of recovery.
She sighed and closed her burning eyes. If only she could get a couple hours’ sleep. She might be able to come up with something with a clearer head.
As if sensing her disquiet, Llyr rubbed comforting circles on her back with one hand. He felt big and warm against her, and she breathed in, inhaling his clean, masculine scent.
She wasn’t going to be able to keep him either. He w
as going to regain his powers and go back to the Mageverse, assuming that damn vampire didn’t manage to get the drop on them.
“That fuckin’ vamp,” Diana growled against his chest. “I swear to God, if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’m going to kill that bitch. This entire debacle is because of her coming into my town and killing my people.”
“We’ll get her,” he said softly. “Sleep now, love.”
The tear took her by surprise. She wiped it away with her fingers, but another one took its place, rolling hot down her cheek. “I’ve worked so hard,” she whispered.
His arms tightened. “I know, my love.”
At the tenderness in his voice, the last of her barriers broke. She began to sob into the warmth of his chest.
Aching as she cried, Llyr stroked her hair and whispered Sidhe endearments he knew she didn’t understand. But this time, she wouldn’t allow herself to be comforted.
Finally she rolled away from him and curled into a ball of helpless misery. He followed anyway, spooning her with his body, trying to offer what comfort he could.
After a long, miserable hour went by, she went lax in sleep and he eased away from her.
Naked, Llyr rolled from the bed and padded soundlessly downstairs into the living room, where the furniture still stood pushed against the wall from his last attempt at calling the dragon.
Taking a deep breath, he slid into the first sequence of the Dragon’s Dance, seeking to call Cachamwri once again.
He had failed so many of his women. Janieda. His wives. Even his children. What good was he when he couldn’t protect those who loved him?
If he could call Cachamwri and break the spell, he was perfectly willing to make every mortal on Diana’s council forget any grievance with her. Then he’d tend to the vampire.
And his brother would be next.
If he had to attack Ansgar directly and lose both his throne and his life, so be it. Llyr had always hesitated before because he’d known he’d not only die; he’d plunge both kingdoms into a civil war as the various factions in each struggled for power. The Cachamwri Sidhe, at least, lived in some semblance of peace; his advisors had vehemently argued that his people could not afford to lose him.
But enough was enough.
Ten Sidhe bodyguards lay in the mortals’ morgue, their families unaware of their murders. Dead defending him from Ansgar’s assassin. His wives and his children, too, were dead, murdered by his brother’s pet killers. And Diana’s life was in ruins.
All because of Ansgar.
No more. Llyr was done with playing the game his father had dictated all those centuries before. Cold determination filled him.
He pivoted, snapped a punch into the air with all his strength, followed it up with a kick, and spun. Sweat rolled down his naked body as he chanted, calling Cachamwri, reaching out to the Dragon God through the very cells of his body.
Llyr could feel the great beast coiled deep in the heart of the Mageverse, linked to him by its own vows to Galatyn the First. The vampire’s spell might have robbed Llyr of his powers, but nothing could break that link.
“Heed me,” he whispered in Sidhe, pivoting, stepping, punching into the air with all his strength. “You took a vow, Great One, to come to the aid of those of my line in our hour of greatest need. Come to me now. Breathe your fire over me. When I slid from my mother’s womb, I bore your mark on my flesh. Come to me now. Come to me, for she whom I love suffers and my people are at risk.”
Heat pulsed across his skin. From the corner of his eye, he saw color streak across his biceps and coil the length of his arm.
She whom I love…
Suddenly he heard his own words, and his steps faltered. Did he love Diana? Had he spoke the truth of his heart without realizing it?
His concentration scattered. The heat died, and he swore viciously. “No! Cachamwri!”
But the dragon was gone.
Llyr stopped and threw his head back, cursing himself. He’d almost had it! “Fool! Stupid fool!”
He squared his shoulders and pushed his frustrated rage away. He would just start over.
Doggedly, he turned and began again.
Diana and Llyr walked into the Verdaville City Council chambers to discover every off-duty city cop in the audience, all in uniform. Even Jerry Morgan was there, his face still bruised black and blue from the bar fight. Gist’s expression was downright stormy, his eyes hot with outrage.
Unfortunately, the packed audience also included Clara Davies; her son, Roger, also bruised; the coroner; and two television cameras. Evidently somebody had alerted the media that the council was planning to fire her, because they did not normally cover Verdaville City Council meetings; the town was just too small.
Great. Just great. Not only was she going to be humiliated and fired, they were going to broadcast it on the six o’clock news.
Keeping her face expressionless with an effort, Diana walked over to the table she shared with the city clerk and the treasurer, while Llyr found a seat in the front where he could aim his regal glare at the council.
As she sat, she was aware of the cold, disapproving stares of all seven city council members flicking from Llyr to her. She stared back steadily. Dammit, she’d done nothing wrong—except possibly sleep with Llyr, and that was none of their business anyway.
City Clerk Tammy Jones leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I can’t believe they’re doing this. You’re the best administrator we’ve ever had!” Tammy, who was nearing retirement after thirty years with the city, had worked with seven managers. Professional administrators tended to use Verdaville as a stepping-stone to something bigger and better. Or, depending on how things went, smaller and worse.
The latter evidently being Diana’s destiny.
Jerry and the chief moved to join Diana at her table. Both men looked equally indignant. “We’re not going to let them do this to you,” Gist said in a low, intense whisper.
Diana sighed. “Chief, you’re going to end up getting fired, too, if you’re not careful. It’s not worth it.”
He set his jaw. “Yes, it is.”
“You’re a good cop,” Jerry told her, a mulish expression on his face. “Whether you’re a volunteer or not. I’d be in the hospital right now if it hadn’t been for you and the blond guy.” He lowered his voice. “But it might have been better if you’d left him at home. They think—”
“I know what they think. I just don’t care.” She stiffened, seeing Bobby Greene get out of his chair with his notebook, followed by two broadcast reporters. “Oh, God, here comes the media.”
The cops shot simultaneous glances of pure distaste over their shoulders and went back to their seats as the three reporters walked up.
Bobby grinned. “So, Diana—I understand you’re living in sin with a fairy.”
Diana stared at the Verdaville Voice reporter, feeling her face go cold with shock. Good God, how had he found out? “What fairy?”
Instantly, all three reporters took on predatory expressions at her reaction. “The big guy,” Bobby said, making a gesture as if indicating the length of an invisible ponytail. “With the hair.”
Oh, that kind of fairy. She relaxed. “That’s my cousin.” She hadn’t lived thirty years as a werewolf without learning how to lie like a rug.
“Cousin.” Bobby lifted his thick black eyebrows and scrawled something down in his notebook. “Right.”
“Ms. London,” one of the television reporters began. She was tall, slim, blond, and perfectly groomed in a suit that probably cost as much as Diana made in a month. “I understand some of the men who were killed in the motel explosion had identified themselves as FBI.” Gist had told the local reporters some kind of bomb had gone off at the Sleep Saver. So far they were buying it.
“Oh, the ones George thinks are aliens?” There. Now Miller could fend off uncomfortable questions.
The other TV reporter’s eyes lit up, and he scrawled something on his legal pad. “Aliens?”
&
nbsp; “That’s what I heard,” Diana said, shrugging. “But you’ll have to talk to him about that.” Miller was a notorious media hound. With any luck, he’d get carried away and shoot his own credibility in the foot. If Diana hit it really lucky, talk of long-haired E.T.s would ensure even the FBI would refuse to have anything to do with him.
Before they could ask any more questions, the Mayor banged his gavel. “I hereby call this special meeting of the Verdaville City Council to order.”
The reporters turned and hurried back to their seats, as eager for blood as any pack of wolves she’d ever seen.
“I requested this meeting to discuss the city manager’s contract,” Thompson began. “Since this is an issue of employment, under the South Carolina Freedom of Information Act, the council needs to go into executive session. I’ll entertain a motion.”
“I make a motion we go into executive session to discuss matters of employment,” Carly Jefferies said, her eyes cold as she looked at Diana. She and Thompson were normally political enemies, but it seemed they were on the same page on this one. That wasn’t good.
“Seconded,” Roland Andrews said.
Thompson banged his gavel. “We’ll adjourn to council chambers, but we’ll return to open session before we vote, as required under the FOIA.”
Diana relaxed slightly. She’d been afraid they’d start the process in open session, but evidently Thompson was wary of any potential lawsuit she might bring.
That was something anyway.
SEVENTEEN
Llyr turned to watch as Diana and the council paraded out. She’d explained the process to him earlier, and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to go with her, even to lend moral support.
His sense of failure nagged at him. He’d fought all day to call the dragon, but Cachamwri had refused to answer. He wasn’t really surprised. He’d tried to summon the dragon before, but though the god had vowed to serve his line in its hour of greatest peril, Cachamwri’s definition of “greatest peril” was evidently different from his. He’d actually gotten more reaction from it in the past couple of days than he ever had before.
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