“Fine.” She shrugged.
It wasn’t fine. It was nerve-racking. But he wasn’t going to change her mind, so he let it go. He hated that she was vulnerable, but her happiness meant more to him than his own. She had wings now—she needed to fly both physically and spiritually. And if he was left behind, then at least he would be there when she returned.
Once they landed in Burlington, Remy started to relax. He could protect her here. They got on his boat—they had plenty of time before the set up happened.
“I want you to stay belowdecks when Rathin shows up.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
He winced at the tremor in her voice. Remy hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories, so he softened his tone. “I want you out of sight.”
“I’ll be in the air hiding in the clouds.” She pointed up.
“No, you’ll be behind me or in the water.”
“I can’t swim, and I’m not standing on this boat like a moving target. I can hide in the air.”
“Not alone, you can’t. Where the fuck is Casimiro?” he grumbled.
“He’s at your cabin, waiting for us.”
Remy gunned the boat. Great. Just what he needed was that jerk-off eating his food and sleeping in his bed. But after talking with the Latin loser, he was grateful that Casimiro would be in the air with her—he’d be nearby, but not close enough to be detected.
Reed had a team ready as soon as Lisa was secured. So Remy reluctantly left Margery on the dock with Casimiro and took the boat out to the middle of the lake. After setting anchor, he slipped into Lake Champlain and let the water work its restorative magic on him. He’d missed his home.
As Remy floated and brooded, he wondered if he could shape the water like he did in the tub with Margery. Thinking about her made him wish she were here. He could imagine better things to do than brood about Casimiro. He started out making a small wave and then slapped it against his boat, picturing it was Casimiro’s head, then Lane’s.
I’m not a cold-blooded killer.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, he concentrated, picturing the wave as a baseball bat. Using his mind, he had it hover next to him as if he were at home plate. Then up ahead, he pictured a baseball, complete with threads. The water shaped into a ball, and he hurtled it toward himself.
Swing and a miss.
Strike one, he thought, probably more amused than he should be.
He practiced until he got tired of knocking water balls through the lake with a water bat. Remy had never been able to do that before—Margery apparently woke up some magic within him when she claimed him as her consort. He wondered if the powers would grow the longer they were together. He hoped so.
The hum of a boat’s motor drove all frivolity out of his thoughts. He sensed Margery above them, and he could only hope she was well hidden in the clouds. The boat pulled alongside them, and he carefully rose to the surface to listen in.
“Lane?” It was Rathin’s voice.
“I don’t like this.” A female voice. Shit, another Queen? Remy didn’t sense one. He supposed it was too much to hope that Smythe would have shown up as well.
“The pills should be in the hold belowdecks. That’s probably where he is. Wait here.”
“I don’t like being back here. What if my father finds us? He’ll kill you.”
Lisa!
Remy launched himself out of the water, tilting both boats. Rathin steadied himself, but Lisa toppled over the edge. Landing on the deck, Remy lunged for her, but a streak of night swooped by and picked her up.
Margery.
Lisa screamed until she was out of earshot. But she was safe with his mate. With Casimiro flying escort, Remy could devote his attention to this piece of shit.
“You bastard,” Rathin growled and shifted into his dragon form, a large, hooded, snakelike creature with four arms; each hand sprouted curved talons, and ridges of spikes rose up along his spine.
Remy didn’t bother to dodge the first strike of Rathin’s claws. He caught one arm and used the momentum to tumble them both backward into the water. Pain shot up his arm where Rathin’s poisoned claws ripped him. But Remy was bigger and stronger in his dragon form, and the water was his domain. They were on his home turf, and the waters of Lake Champlain would cleanse the poison and eventually close his wounds.
Rathin took advantage of the seconds while Remy shifted back to his dragon form to press his attack. Writhing in the water, the naga twisted, and the spikes along his spine shot out and lodged in Remy’s exposed belly.
He howled as the pain bent him in half, but with a great force of will and a little help from his home water, Remy ejected the spikes and sent them back into Rathin.
Too much poison. Too soon.
Remy’s vision blurred, and he churned up the water, hoping to keep Rathin at bay while he recovered. He had to fight his instincts not to just destroy Rathin. The plan was to bring him in alive if possible, so they could track down all the pills.
Kill him, his mother called from unconnected oceans and waterways, the water of the earth her very breath.
It would be easy. But as much as it was death to disobey a Queen, he took his orders from Margery. He’d accept any consequences from his mother when he saw her again, but that was a year in the future. He’d have to look Margery in the eye tonight and for every night thereafter.
Still, killing the naga was tempting as Rathin got in close and clamped down on his throat with his teeth. But he didn’t know that was exactly where Remy wanted him. Quickly coiling his long body around Rathin, he squeezed tight.
His opponent’s mouth opened wide as he fought for air. Too bad Rathin was a naga and could breathe underwater, otherwise the fight would have been over in a matter of seconds.
Rathin struggled, but that only allowed Remy to tighten his hold. He added a few head butts for good measure, denting in Rathin’s face.
After reeling from a couple of blows, the naga’s flailing slowed. Remy wanted to gut him, fill his body with stone, and let him die on the floor of the lake.
It would be justice.
Instead, Remy hauled Rathin back into the boat just as Reed flew overhead. Reed took the unconscious naga in his claws and flew off with him back to New York.
“Sometimes death is too quick to be a consequence,” he sent back to his mother.
Her disapproval thrummed through the waters.
So be it.
Chapter Twenty
A few weeks after rescuing Lisa, Margery got word that Smythe was getting off with just a financial sanction. She called Reed to complain as she sat on Remy’s dock watching the workers building defenses. She didn’t want to think that she would always have to prepare for an attack for exposing his BabyDragon operation—it wasn’t how she wanted to live her life, but she didn’t trust Smythe. He hadn’t emerged from his lair during this whole situation. The better to claim plausible deniability. But she had a gut feeling he wasn’t done, and she’d made a vicious enemy out of him.
“He just allowed the dolls to be used for smuggling the drugs,” Reed said. “And since Cassandra is dead, she can’t claim damages against him.”
Margery locked gazes with Remy. She’d sworn not to reveal that Nessie was alive or her part in all of this. But damn it, Nessie was the only one who had a grievance against Smythe, and since she chose to keep her location a secret, it looked like Smythe would be getting off scot-free.
“Rathin is imprisoned for distributing the pills and endangering humans,” Reed went on. “His treasury will pay damages to the victims’ families.”
“Most of them didn’t have families,” she said. “This blows.”
“You could order them both killed,” Reed said impassively in the phone. “They claim they weren’t behind the Smooshie bomb that nearly killed you. You don’t have to believe them.”
Unfortunately, they weren’t responsible for the doll. And even if she could live with ordering their executions, that would mean she’d have to
send Remy and Casimiro after them. She wouldn’t endanger their lives. She wouldn’t hire an assassin, either. And the Order of the Dragon Slayers walked too fine a line for her to fully trust them.
“I’m sorry it’s not the solution you wanted,” Reed said. “Perhaps you’ll reconsider publishing any more articles.”
For a moment, she wondered if Reed was intimating that if she dropped her new dragon correspondent position he would take Smythe out. “Not a chance.”
“Well, then, congratulations on your first front-page news story.”
“Thanks.” She hung up on him. Jerk.
“Look at it this way,” Remy said. “With Nessie tightening up her security, only qualified women will get the drug. No one else is going to die.”
“Smythe should get more than a slap on the wrist for his part in those women’s deaths. I’m also afraid he’s going to find out Lane narced on him, and Bella might get hurt in the cross fire.”
“Order me to do as you will.” Remy bowed his head.
She was so lucky to have him. “You’ve been so supportive of me.”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.”
After Reed had taken care of Rathin, Remy had come back to the cabin to find Lisa and Margery enthralled by Casimiro crooning Spanish love songs to them. She was relieved when Remy showed remarkable restraint with Casimiro by not chucking him into Lake Champlain. It paid off when Lisa agreed to fly on Casimiro’s back to Reed’s compound so they could check on the baby.
“I think Casimiro’s smitten,” Remy had said.
She watched them fly off and shook her head. “She’s too human.”
He had entangled his fingers with hers. “If she can give him a family, it might not matter. Does that bother you?”
She hadn’t answered him, because it did, a little. After Casimiro risked his life to protect her on the roof, things had changed between them. He’d stopped flirting and stopped antagonizing Remy—which was a good thing. It could be that he saw she was serious about having Remy as her consort, or it could have been just Cas being fickle with his affections. It didn’t hurt, but it did leave her wondering if she’d disappointed him as a Queen.
Spending these past two weeks with Remy, however, she realized Casimiro had never made her feel as cherished or comfortable as Remy did. Remy was her heart and her future. So instead of ordering him to kill Smythe for her, she had a better command.
“Take me to bed and make me forget all about this.”
“As my Queen commands.”
Margery linked her arm through his as they walked back to his cabin. She nodded at the sentries watching for intruders and felt safe. They were officially her protectors, but she wasn’t going to have a formal court. Remy could handle things. Rathin had been very vocal about the abuse Remy had put him through, and because of it, she hadn’t had any other attacks or kidnapping attempts.
However, the weird videos kept coming via email. It was a different email address each time, but each one showed a place where she’d recently been. Remy didn’t like it, but Reed couldn’t trace it back and thought it was just a groupie or a harmless stalker. Might not even be a dragon. Margery wasn’t convinced.
After seeing Lisa settled, Casimiro returned to touring for his new album, but true to his word, he sent workers to start building Margery’s castle.
Her article in the Times was a hit, and she already had a contract to do a weekly column on the dragon world. Her first series was going to revolve around the emerging Queens. She hoped to do a story featuring each of them. She already had interest from publishers to make it into a book, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to go that route. Margery had a feeling after she talked to the Queens, there would be more stories. But she promised Remy she’d keep a low profile on the hard-hitting articles. At least until the castle was built.
He didn’t like it, of course. But she told him that was how it had to be, and for now, they had an uneasy truce about it.
When the cabin door closed behind them, Remy pushed her up against it. “You’re thinking too much again.”
She rubbed her hands over his arms, inhaling his scent. It was the intoxicating smell of a lake breeze with exotic hints of the ocean. “Take off your clothes.”
He vanished them. “Your turn.”
“Rip them off me,” she said and then gave a little giggle as he tore her shirt open.
“Like that?”
She nodded as he shredded her bra. Her pants were next, and then he slowly peeled her underwear off her hips, licking all around her waist. Placing her legs over his shoulders, he lifted her off her feet.
Margery shrieked, and she clutched his hair for balance as he stood up. But then his tongue penetrated her, and she held on to the ceiling for support as she rode his face. His arms cradled her ass and kept her open and steady while he licked her. Each thrust and flicker of his tongue pushed her closer. She hooked her legs under his elbows. It felt like she was flying. They had to try this outside next time. Although she was happy to have the ceiling for balance, because the sweet torture of his tongue made her dizzy.
“More,” she groaned. “More.”
He relentlessly tongued her to a thrilling orgasm. Her thighs trembled against his cheeks, and he moaned in approval when she soaked his face.
Breathing in short, ragged gasps, she could only beg when he started up again. “Remy, please.”
He walked her to the bathroom, ducking so she wouldn’t hit her head on the doorframe. Each thrust of his tongue made her cry in soft sobs of pleasure; her whole body was so sensitive to the touch that she quivered in his arms. Pressing her back against the bathroom wall, he turned on his shower and adjusted the heat setting.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked.
He set her down in the shower. The water felt good, but not as good as he did. “I’m going to fuck you,” he promised. And then the water was pounding at her breasts and between her legs. She could barely stand up as Remy waved his hands like a conductor directing an orchestra and made the water crash over her most sensitive spots. He stepped in and pushed her to her knees. The water cushioned the hard tile.
Margery stroked his cock and looked up at him. He was controlling the water that was pulsing into her and pulling on her nipples like a mouth. “Do you like what I’m doing?” He groaned as she licked him from the soft sac of his balls to the top of his cock.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, and he pushed himself into her mouth.
“Show me,” he said and held her head to him while she lavished all the attention he’d given to her pussy on his cock.
The water penetrated her, made love to her, and then split off so it was also stroking her clit.
“Mmm,” she moaned, sucking him deep into her throat. She bounced on the water. It wasn’t enough.
“I want you,” she whispered, sliding him out before sliding down on him again.
“As my Queen commands.”
Remy lifted her up, wrapped her shaking legs around his waist.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes and guided his thick cock inside her. “Yes,” she gritted out. He took her against the shower wall, sucking on her neck and groaning in her ear. The water now shackled her wrists above her head. She was helpless to move away, not that she wanted to.
“You are so damn wet and tight.”
Margery just hung on while he pounded her closer to another delicious orgasm. “I want you. I’ll always want you.”
He grunted and picked up his pace. “I’ll always be right here.” He slammed deep. “Right fucking here.”
Margery tried to breathe, but looking into his intense eyes, she realized breathing was overrated. “I want to come kissing you.”
He came first, roaring into her mouth. Hips flexing deep, he kept at it until she followed moments later, roaring back at him.
“My mate. My Queen.” He kissed her forehead and then carried her to bed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Margery was sitting by
the dock outside Remy’s house, doing the final proof of the article on Carolyn and drinking a steaming mug of tea, when her phone rang. Carolyn had kept her up half the night chewing her ear off and making sure she included her top ten favorite books in the article. Carolyn kept changing her mind, though, on what books to list and in what order.
Not recognizing the number, Margery let it go to voicemail. It rang again. And again. Now, she started to get worried.
“Hello?”
“Margery, it’s me, Carla.”
She closed her eyes. She probably should have been expecting this, since she’d never called her after that last obnoxious email. “Are you all right?” Margery asked, because she sounded a little frantic and out of breath.
“I need to see you.”
Yeah, for a thousand-dollar photograph. It hurt Margery to have to say this to her baby sister. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Margery opened her eyes and sat up straighter in her chair. “What?” Her boyfriend had knocked her up that quick? She couldn’t imagine her sister taking care of a houseplant, let alone a baby.
“I took a pill and went with a dragon. But I didn’t like him, so I ran away.”
Jaw dropping, Margery literally saw red. From the middle of the lake, Remy started swimming in. She could see the ripples he was making in the water. He must have sensed her outrage.
“Is this a con?” she asked. “Because if you just want to shake me down for money…”
“No, jeez. I thought I could come to you for help. Forget it.”
The next second, shame replaced her anger. This was her baby sister, and she really should give her the benefit of the doubt. Even if that made her a mark. “No, wait,” Margery said. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
“I’m home,” she said. “Where else would I be?”
Home. Margery had sworn she’d never go back there. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah, Joe’s at work.”
“He has a job?” Margery asked. She was surprised her stepfather had gotten off his ass. Maybe he’d gotten arrested for drunk and disorderly and the court had ordered him.
The Queen's Dance (Emerging Queens) Page 19