She wouldn’t use her past-seer to pry. No matter what the other Fates believed, to her an uncalled-for past-seeing was nothing more than an invasion of privacy.
“It’s okay,” she said. “If it had been me, Ladon would be just as jealous.” She grinned.
Her father sniffed and looked up at the ceiling. “That’s different.”
“Different? Andreas married one of Ladon’s ex-girlfriends, Dad.” So not so different, except now neither man wanted anything to do with Penny Sisto, other than to “borrow” her sweet, decked-out Chevy Impala. Penny did bring out the worst in everyone.
Her dad sniffed again but slapped his leg. “It doesn’t matter. You and your new baby sister matter.” He forced a smile.
Rysa brushed the last of the removable soil off her feet. “It matters.” Her toes were still dirty, but she’d go into the baths and wash her feet later. “You need to talk to Mom about this, by the way. Or Derek.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Anna’s been with Andreas many times over the centuries. It’s not a secret. Derek doesn’t have any problems with Andreas hanging around.” None that Rysa had noticed.
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He swirled his finger over his head. “It’s… well…”
Anxiety, her past-seer whispered. This was the first time since his return that he’d been apart from her mother for an extended period of time. He was here by himself.
“Dad, I’m going to use my present-seer.” Maybe she could figure out what to say.
He blinked as if she’d said the most confusing words ever. “Your mother never asks.”
Rysa patted his hand again. “I’m not Mom, am I?”
Her father smiled. “Sorry about that, by the way.” He fiddled with the leather cord around his wrist. “All the hyperactivity.” He pointed over his shoulder at the library. “You’ll figure out how to self-heal it.”
He hadn’t yet, and he was over five hundred years old. It was nice, though, that her father sounded so confident about her abilities.
Rysa unfurled her present-seer. She let it seek as it felt it needed to, and didn’t interfere.
The fog in the what-was-is-will-be hung around everything. It obscured her future-seer more than anything else, but it also blurred the demarcation lines her present-seer liked to use to highlight in the present—the thickening of perception that made it easier for her to pick out important information in the what-is.
Still, through the blur, she saw a fear. Her father was afraid, and that fear crept out of the recent past.
“When you were in hiding, did you spend time in caves, Dad?” Being here reminded him of being alone.
His brow knotted. “That was different.”
Again with the “different” word. “Well, yes. But not every part of your brain understands that.”
He blinked. A moment went by. Her father obviously processed her comment—his face rapidly transitioned from confused, to surprised, to what she could only describe as “well, shit.”
Rysa tapped her nose. “Do you want me to make you a calling scent? I used to do it for Ladon all the time.” She knew how to make anti-anxiety scents for men.
He patted her knee. “No, no. I’m okay.” His forced smile returned. “Hey, do you think one of the dragons would do a scan on me? So I can see what’s firing wrong?” He tapped his temple.
“Ask one of them.” The more practice, the happier the dragon.
He nodded, then snapped his fingers. “Please tell Brother-Dragon I loaded the articles he requested onto his tablet.”
Her father had brought in an array of dragon-sized equipment, including multiple tablet computers the size of televisions.
“I will.”
He ran his hand over his head. “I’ll run a lap around the commons.” He smiled again. “That should calm me down.”
“Works for me,” she said. Though Ladon and Dragon worked the best, and they were—
Two energy waves swept outward from the nesting shaft, the first looking for Derek and the second looking for Rysa.
The dragons were awake.
“Run your lap, Dad.” Rysa dusted the dirt off her jeans.
I’m coming, love, she pushed toward the apartment she shared with Ladon and Dragon. The roses-and-soft-kisses-filled push spiraled outward from her body on the back of a seer burst meant to “boost” the signal. It wavered between her and the beast in a space she couldn’t see directly, and couldn’t physically feel. A space she’d been sensing since she activated. The space where her abilities poked into the what-was-is-will-be. Where her healer moved from her own body to the person-space of another.
New-space, the irreality she—and the scientists at Praesagio Industries, and the dragons, and everyone, it seemed—believed was the true common denominator of the powers exhibited by Fates, Shifters, Burners, and the communication connection of the dragons.
A rose-kissed echo flowed back to her. Dragon swore he was beginning to pick up more of her calls. They tested every day, and Rysa had added data collection about how well he heard her to her daily diary.
The blast of joy that erupted from the apartment—the shining, glimmering cathedral of Dragon’s sense of her—broke into her vision, and the entire cave shimmered as if coated with faery dust.
Her father looked at his feet. Like her, he could see images pushed by the dragons. “That beast loves you, honey.”
She gave her dad a quick hug. “I know,” she said, and ran for Ladon and Dragon.
Chapter Three
Rysa gently pressed on the chestnut wood of their apartment’s arched door, and the dragon-sized carved wonder swung soundlessly open. Ladon and Dragon had engineered some sort of counterweight system shortly after she moved into the cave, and the entire ten-foot-tall, four-hundred-pound structure now glided as if it sailed the heavens on a wave of light.
Their olive tree—a descendant of the original tree under which the Progenitors appeared twenty-three centuries ago—shimmered in the late afternoon sunshine filtering in through the cave’s mirror system. Sometimes it made small, sweet, wind-chime-like sounds. Or at least her mind perceived the wind-chime-like sounds she expected the lights to make. She’d have to set up a recording device to test, and honestly, she didn’t want to kill the magic.
The cave was magic. The dragon-painted, thirty- and forty-foot vaulted ceilings gleamed with swirling patterns and symbols. The singing baths, all the hidden rooms, the wildlife—the world of the Dracae was another realm. The three shimmering olive trees were literally the closest thing to real faery dust any human would ever get.
The wonder of her home—like her abilities—probably had more to do with the new than it did with anything supernatural. She knew it. Ladon and Dragon and everyone else knew it.
Yet investigating the true nature of the magic felt like crushing it under the heel of Praesagio Industries. It felt invasive, industrial, and weaponized.
Maybe her seers were operating better than she thought. Maybe she was being paranoid. But she knew enough about America and her many Titans of Industry to understand that this place, secret-filled as it was, needed protecting.
The cave deserved reverence, and as the Draki Prime, it was her job to make sure it stayed safe and revered.
Rysa padded on dirty feet into the apartment, fully intending to wiggle her toes into the clover under the tree while she waited for Ladon and Dragon to swagger their fine selves out of the nesting shaft.
They’d decided to honeymoon at home mostly, she knew, because Ladon and Dragon wanted her to be happy. The cave wasn’t the wonderland for them that it was for Rysa, not after living here for a century and a half. To them, it was simply “home.”
She glanced at the bed while she walked toward the shimmering olive tree. The entrance to the shaft blended into the shadows at the back of the bed’s cove. No light. No indication of dragon movements, or sounds of dragon diggings.
Did they go into the baths? “Ladon?” she called.
Her seers might not be working their best right now, but most of the fog seemed to be confined to more nebulous, global questions. She could ask her future-seer what they’d be eating for lunch tomorrow and she’d get a clear-ish picture, but if she asked what Dmitri, or Andreas, or Daisy, or any of the not-present members of the Dragons’ Legion would be eating, she’d likely not see anything beyond “food.” Her present-seer operated with the same foggy vagueness. Asking where Ladon and Dragon were right now would yield an answer, but asking where her mother was, or where Daniel-Adrestia walked, would only yield “Portland,” which she knew already, anyway.
The fog felt as if the what-was-is-will-be had turned lazy. It sat on the couch eating chips and watching craptastic reality television and refusing to do its homework.
Or maybe not lazy. Maybe upset that it couldn’t figure out the problem so now it brooded and pouted like a frustrated teenager.
Goodness knew Rysa had reacted to life that way many times in her past.
Why was she thinking of the what-was-is-will-be as if it was a child? Anthropomorphizing concepts helped no one. It certainly did nothing to help figure out what caused the fog, though it did describe the pervasive frustration among the Fates right now.
Or maybe she just had babies on her mind, considering the impending triad of little ones about to be born into her family.
She glanced at the nest entrance again. Where were Ladon and Dragon? She could use a little—
A glint moved through the air about three feet in front of her—a glint that looked suspiciously like the platinum of a dragon-sized wedding band.
“Dragon!” He’d mimicked the tree and snuck up on her.
A breeze swirled around her body. The air burst open with a full spectrum of brilliant greens and golds and tight leaves-in-the-ocean patterns. The wonderful, rich scent of frankincense and cinnamon followed.
The beast nuzzled her side. A full, detailed cathedral of meaning followed—velvet rose petals, the warmth of their apartment’s hearth, the beast’s intricate memory-architecture that formed his concept of family—it all flowed into her mind.
“I love you too.” Rysa bounced on the balls of her feet. She laughed and hugged her wonderful dragon’s neck. “You surprised—”
Ladon’s arms wrapped around her waist.
He’d snuck up on her, too. Snuck up from behind as quiet as a cat to press his chest against her back and his big, strong arms around her body.
Her world ceased to be the twinkling wonder of the cave and became all that was Ladon—his scent of civilization and sunshine, his strong, comforting body, his protection and his support.
He pressed his lips into her hair next to her ear. “Mine,” he whispered.
Dragon’s living energy—his connection to Ladon, his three-dimensional thoughts built of pattern and color and movement—pulsed and settled into the beast’s reflection of what she meant to Ladon.
Beautiful. Beloved. My love. My mate. Mine.
They were portals, those words. Portals into Ladon’s understanding of his world, into his deepest thoughts—her need for them, and his for her, the warmth of their cuddles, the truth that sex and their connection would never be denied.
That Rysa would never abandon them, and that they would never abandon her.
She was, in a true Dracae way, his.
She’d been given a gift greater than any she could have ever imagined—greater even than her Fate and Shifter abilities. She had love.
Rysa spun in his arms. He wore only his black jeans, no t-shirt, no socks, no belt either, and his super-soft black boxer-briefs poked out over the waistband of his pants. His wavy black hair was its normal level of sexy-messy, and his gorgeous, gold-flecked eyes all but glowed.
She kissed his chin. “You do realize that when I say mine, I’m being possessive and controlling.”
His laugh vibrated against the top ridge of her ear.
No, you are not, Dragon signed in his version of American Sign Language. Your understanding is the same as Human’s. The beast snorted.
She rubbed a hand over Dragon’s crest. “I wish everyone could see what you show me, my love. The world would be a better place.”
Yes, it would. Dragon rolled over onto his back and scratched at his belly. Human wants sex.
Another low, rumbling chuckle rolled from deep in Ladon’s chest. His hands roamed over her bottom, but he didn’t say anything.
Even after being together for eight months, even after the trials and pain—and the wonder—they’d been through together, even after the wedding, the pure joy pulsing off Ladon when he wanted to touch still surprised her. This beautiful man wanted her to be the center of his notions of wife and family. He wanted to fulfill his part of the deal by being a good husband. And he sure did enjoy practicing the whole “mating” part of their pairing.
His rumbles had returned in fully-intoxicating intensity after he and the beast reconnected, and she swore his already-high libido had doubled. He smiled a lot more now, as well. To the delight of everyone in the cave, he’d taken up the majority of the meat grilling chores. He’d also taken to helping Derek build the nursery during the few hours he wasn’t sleeping or making love.
Ladon really was enjoying being a family man.
She rubbed her hands over the wide muscles of his upper back. He had the most sensuous, supple body. He moved like a dancer and touched like a sculptor.
His lips worked down the outer edge of her ear, to her lobe. He kissed gently, and exhaled just enough to make her shiver. Then he nipped and kissed down the side of her neck to the delicate hollow at the top of her collarbone.
Rysa sighed.
Ladon moved a hand around to her front and cupped her breast. “Have you forgotten about whatever thoughts occupied your mind, my Lovely Dirty Toes?”
Rysa snickered. He’d noticed the dirt on her feet? She dropped her hands off his lower shoulder blades and squeezed his backside. “What happened to ‘beloved’ and ‘beautiful’?”
He had a couple pet names he liked to use, but she had to admit “beloved” was her favorite.
He lifted her off the ground and pulled her legs around his waist, yet continued his nibbles along the collar of her t-shirt. “Hummm….” he hummed. “Beautiful Beloved Sexy Dirty Toes.”
Her entire body shuddered.
She could try to resist his charms. Think of her efforts as an exercise in impulse control. But he was too damned sexy.
Rysa pulled her t-shirt up and over her head.
Ladon humphed as if proud of himself for achieving his goal so quickly. He jostled her slightly, only enough to make sure he had a good grip on her backside, and carried her toward the bed.
“You better not become complacent, husband.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. God, he smelled good.
He humphed again, but this time he seemed to be considering what she said. “If I am to be the good husband of my promises,” he smirked and dropped her onto their huge bed, “I must practice the correct type of vigilance.”
Dragon ambled up and took up his place behind them. Ladon lowered himself on top of her, pressing just enough for her to feel his weight, and rubbed his erection against her pubic bone.
“Vigilant. Yes,” she breathed. She could live with this kind of vigilance.
Ladon unzipped her jeans and yanked them and her panties off her legs. He’d stopped ripping her clothes when she pointed out that she really didn’t enjoy shopping, and now instead made quick but careful work of getting her naked. “You require constant assessment,” he said, as he slipped his hand between her thighs. “Constant practice and adjustment.”
His kiss pulled all her breath from her lungs. She gasped and allowed herself to sink into the tingles caused by Ladon’s expert touches, and the vibrations created by Dragon’s colors and purrs.
Ladon understood the responses of her body better than she did herself. He knew exactly what to do to bring her to peak fast, and then what to do to pu
ll her back.
Her first orgasm erupted when he moved into her, and her second shortly after. Ladon grinned as he kissed her knuckles and her cheeks. He kissed her lips and her neck. And when she kissed the spot below his heart from which his love-rumble emanated, the echo filled not only their apartment, but her body and soul.
Ladon stayed where he was, still inside her, and kissed the base of her throat. “I like being modernly married.” He kissed her left shoulder and pulled her thigh high along his hip. “And I like your dirty toes.”
His eyes twinkled. He smiled. Her husband had found his way again.
Rysa kissed his shoulder. “Well, I like all of you, toes included.”
“I hope so.” He kissed her chin. “Wanna do it slow this time?”
“You are going to be a distraction when we return to Minneapolis.” Not that she was complaining, though she did suspect their housemates would find their constant lovemaking annoying. “You’re going to keep me from studying, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Ladon rolled onto his back, but carried her with him, so that she straddled his hips.
Rysa pointed at Dragon. “Aren’t you hungry?” The beast just woke up. He should have a grumbling dragon tummy.
He scratched at his belly. Yes. But he didn’t move.
Ladon smiled and palmed her breasts.
“What am I going to do with you two?” Live life happy, she thought, and leaned into Ladon’s embrace.
He curled his arms tight around her body and breathed against her cheek.
A big ball of déjà vu thudded against the back of Rysa’s eyeballs. It bounced off her future-seer first, then off her past-seer, before rolling to a stop right in the middle of her present-.
She sat up but kept her hands on Ladon’s shoulders.
He frowned and gripped her waist as if she was about to fall off him. “What’s wrong?”
“This has happened before.” She waved her hand through the air. “Not happened happened. I swear this is the moment I future-saw right after I activated. When I was dreaming. At Marcus and Harold’s house.” She frowned, too. “That first morning. Dragon was downstairs with Marcus and you were in my bed when I woke up.”
The Burning World (Fate Fire Shifter Dragon Book 7) Page 3