Light My Fire Page 8

  Jim marched on, ignoring my obvious curiosity.

  “From—pardon me, sir, I didn’t see your elbow—from you, you annoying little demon. You just said you used to do roasts for one of your previous masters. Who was your other demon lord?”

  Jim didn’t answer, just kept hopping down the steps. I grabbed its collar right before we were at the bottom. “Jim, I order you to answer me—who else was your demon lord?”

  “No one,” it answered, its eyes avoiding mine. “You going to stand there choking me until I hack up a hairball like a cat, or are we going to go get one of the good seats up front, next to the podium?”

  “No, you’re going to…” The words dried up on my lips as Drake emerged from behind the curtained wings. He stepped out onto the stage and with a typically Drake possessive manner, began to scan the crowd. By the time his attention had focused on my side of the room—and me specifically—all thoughts of threatening Jim had melted away.

  “Say what you will about the man, he has a hell of a presence,” I whispered to Jim.

  “Yeah. And an ass you could bounce bricks off of,” Jim whispered back. When I widened my eyes at him, he coughed and added, “Well, that’s what you said before you dumped him for the umpteenth time!”

  “Remind me to order you to wipe your memory each night.” I watched as Drake walked across the stage to the small flight of stairs that led to the theater floor. The way he walked should be outlawed—all sinuous, sleek power, more like he was a panther than a dragon. Yes, it helped that I knew well just how fabulous his human form was, but even fully clothed he was gorgeous. Today he wore black—or what I thought was black until he got close enough for me to see the material of his shirt and pants. The shirt he wore opened at the collar, a beautiful silky creation that had my hands twitching with the need to touch it.

  “Mate,” he said, stopping in front of me, nodding briefly to István. “You wore the clothing I bought for you.”

  “She was in accident,” István said, surprising me. It wasn’t like him to make an excuse for me. “She was very dirty and bloody.”

  Drake’s green-eyed gaze narrowed on me as he examined me. “I see no injuries. You were not hurt?”

  “The idiot driver didn’t hurt us, no,” I said, carefully skirting the issue of the incident in Paris. I needed time to mull over exactly what had happened before I decided what steps to take. Unable to stop myself, I touched the material of his shirt sleeve. “That’s a lovely shirt. I thought it was black, but it’s a shadowed pattern of very dark green, isn’t it? Oh. It’s…is that moving?”

  I watched in disbelief as the vaguely discernable pattern in the shirt seemed to shift and rearrange itself within the cloth.

  “Yes. It is dragonweave. It is worn by only the most powerful members of the sept. I have a dress made from it for you. You’re late, but if you were in an accident, I will allow the insult to pass without punishment.”

  “Thanks; it wasn’t exactly my choice of ways to start the day, either,” I said, hackling up a bit at his high-handed attitude. Why had I ever thought Drake could change? It was obvious he was set in an unyielding mind-set of arrogance, dominance, and all-purpose dragon-knows-best. To expect him to compromise in a relationship was…well, it just wasn’t awfully realistic.

  “Hi, Drake. I’m here, too, in case you didn’t notice. I wasn’t hurt in the accident, either, although Rene was for a bit, but then he healed himself. Can I have a collar made of dragonweave?”

  “No,” Drake said, waving a hand toward the stage.

  I sighed an inner sigh at having to take my place on the stage, where more than two hundred dragons would have me in their sights, but reminded myself that I had agreed to be his mate, and that meant I had to take my place at his side for formal functions such as this.

  “What exactly is going on here today?” I asked quietly as I took a seat at the end of one of the tables. István, Pál, and a couple of other dragons filled the other spaces. Drake stood between me and the podium, his arms crossed as he watched the audience. A potent silence fell. The last couple of people who had been standing in the aisles greeting one another and chatting hurriedly took their seats.

  “I call to order this meeting of the sept of the green dragons on this fourteenth day of August in the year one thousand eight hundred and twenty-two.”

  “1822?” I asked, leaning to the right slightly, to where Pál sat next to me.

  “The dragon year begins with the formation of the first weyr. Eighteen hundred years ago the black and red dragons formed a weyr.”

  I wanted to ask Pál about this mysterious black dragon sept, but Drake began speaking again, so I sat looking attentive, professional, and thoroughly supportive of whatever it was he had to say.

  “We will conduct this meeting in English for the convenience of certain people present,” he said, turning to look at me. I smiled a bit hesitantly, not sure whether I was supposed to thank everyone for that courtesy or not. “The first order of business is the formal recognition of the wyvern’s mate, Aisling Grey.”

  Drake’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I rose, smoothing down the pretty green dress, grateful I didn’t have to do this all bloody and torn. “Do I say anything?” I whispered to him.

  He shook his head, pulling me so that I stood smashed up against him. My brain went into Drake-deprived overdrive, filling me with all sorts of new pain, longing, and a sad, hopeless feeling that I’d never be able to work things out with him, or entirely let him go.

  The dragons rose as one giant group, looked at me for the count of three; then all of them, men, women, and children, knelt down and bowed their heads. It was totally unexpected and, for some reason, touched me greatly. I knew that to many of them, I was an unknown, a stranger to their sept, but that they’d accept me so easily made me feel incredibly warm and fuzzy. I sniffled back a couple of happy tears.

  “You know, frequent bouts of crying are another sign of early pregnancy,” Jim’s voice whispered from where it sat on the other side of Pál.

  I glared Jim into silence, but judging by the shocked look on Pál’s face, followed by his quick inspection of my midsection, he had heard what the demon had said, dammit.

  “Dmitri Askov, you do not recognize my mate?”

  Drake’s voice rumbling next to me brought me out of a lovely daydream in which I was sending Jim back to its former demon lord. One man, one lone man, stood in the theater of people all kneeling to honor Drake and, by extension, me. The man had the same ageless quality of all the other dragons, appearing to be in his mid-to late thirties, but was probably several hundred years older than that. I hadn’t yet met a dragon under eighty.

  “I do not,” the dragon named Dmitri said in a noticeable English accent. Like Drake, he stood with his arms crossed, his dark hair swept back from his forehead in a similar fashion. He was probably a few inches shorter than Drake but was built a bit heavier. I squinted slightly, noticing a faint resemblance in the man’s jawline. All in all, he was a pretty handsome man but not nearly as drop-dead gorgeous as Drake. Could this be a relative? I was shocked for a moment at that thought. I’d never considered Drake having any relatives, despite the fact that he must have had parents at the very least. What happened to his family? “I do not recognize this human as your mate. You have violated the rules for the last time, Drake Fekete. This time you must pay. As will this human you think to inflict upon us!”

  8

  I sucked in my breath at the anger in Dmitri’s voice, peeking at Drake from the corner of my eye. I needn’t have wondered whether he was going to explode. Drake’s anger was always controlled, unlike my lamentably explosive temper. His was slow burning and long to become fully inflamed.

  “There are no rules regarding the species of a wyvern’s mate,” Drake answered evenly. “If that is your only objection—”

  Dmitri laughed and stalked down the stairs to the stage. “It is but the beginning, cousin.”

  Well, that explain
ed a lot. The way he spat out the word explained even more.

  “Like the rest of the sept, I grow weary of your mismanagement, your bad decisions, your inability to keep the peace as you swore to do. You are more human than dragon now! Your ineptness, abuses of the sept in general, and clear acts intended to inflame relations between septs exhibit your unsuitability for the position of wyvern. All that we could excuse, but it is your parentage that demands your removal.” Dmitri sauntered onto the stage and stopped in front of Drake, waving a hand at the audience.

  Parentage? What was all that about? I kept my mouth shut, knowing that Drake would not welcome my defense of his character and actions, no matter how well meant it was. I had an inkling of what was coming next, though. Drake did, as well, because he didn’t move a muscle as the familiar words were spoken.

  “By the laws that govern the sept, I, Dmitri Alexander Mikhail Askov, sergeant in the green dragon militia, do hereby issue a formal challenge of transcendence to Drake Fekete, the one who falsely claims the position as wyvern of the green dragons.”

  “Oh, you do not want to be doing that,” I said in a low voice, quiet enough that just the people nearest me could hear it, but not so loud that the microphones picked it up. Dmitri’s head snapped around to look at me, his dark eyes narrowing in scorn as I spoke. “Look, I’ve been in your shoes, and I can tell you from experience that Drake takes challenges very seriously. Obviously you have some is sues with him, but take it from someone who knows—you don’t want to do the challenge thing. The payback on that is a real bitch.”

  “I do not recognize you as a member of this sept,” Dmitri said, then spat on me. I was so stunned by his action, I just stood there with a glob of spittle splattered on my collarbone.

  Drake’s reaction was instantaneous. He was a blur, one moment standing between me and the podium, the next ten feet away, the theater ringing with the sound of the backhanded slap he delivered to Dmitri.

  Slowly, Dmitri turned his head to look at Drake, his eyes bright with fire. “So be it,” he snarled, turning on his heel to march off the stage.

  “That’s just about at the top of the gross-o-meter, and you know, I’ve seen a lot of gross things in my time,” Jim said, nudging aside a pitcher of ice water and bringing me the folded linen napkin that was underneath it.

  I took it, wiping the spit off my chest. For some reason, my hands were shaking, as if I had been the sole focus of Dmitri’s obvious animosity.

  Drake returned to the podium, raising an eyebrow at me. I gawked at his control for a moment, then took a cue from his apparently calm demeanor and hurriedly resumed my place on the chair between him and Pál.

  “The second order of business I have to announce concerns the red dragons. This morning I received a statement from Chuan Ren that as of this date, the red dragons have withdrawn their acceptance of the current peace treaty and have declared war against members of this sept.”

  “Holy cow,” I said on a nearly silent breath, leaning over to Pál to ask, “What happened? I know things were dicey when I left Budapest, but I didn’t know it was bordering on war.”

  “Things suffered much when you left,” he said, his eyes filled with sadness. A band tightened around my heart.

  “I’m so sorry. I never thought things would go downhill without me. I was sure Drake had things in control, or I wouldn’t have walked out. I had no idea Chuan Ren was serious about declaring war,” I whispered, miserable and bowed by guilt.

  “The wyvern of the red dragons is serious about everything. Particularly so where it concerns Drake,” Pál whispered back. I wanted badly to ask why, but Drake had been shooting quick little annoyed looks at me while he read the formal declaration of war. It was, like others of its ilk, couched in all sorts of grandiose language, but what it boiled down to was the red dragons were pissed and wanted the green dragons to be their servants.

  I snorted and said under my breath, “Ha. In her dreams.”

  “As most of you have been through this before,” Drake said, lifting an eyebrow slightly at me, “you will know how to safeguard your family and property. The militia will be in contact with each family to ensure the full resources of this sept are available to those who need them. Due to the stranglehold the red dragons have in the Far East, travel to Asia should be undertaken only in the direst of situations, and with ample protection.”

  I leaned over to Pál. “When was the last time you guys were at war?”

  His brow furrowed in thought. “One hundred years.”

  “Is that all?”

  Drake shot me another, more prolonged, annoyed look.

  “Yes,” Pál answered after a few moments, leaning so his mouth was close to my ear. “Drake defeated Chuan Ren in trial by combat in order to gain peace.”

  Hmm. That explained why the red wyvern seemed to have it in for Drake. I bet losing to him didn’t sit well with someone with her warrior pride.

  The rest of the meeting was pretty much a summation of the last year’s major events, septwise. There were three births to announce, one death by accident when a dragon was caught in a car bombing in Egypt, and a list of academic and professional achievements that had me squirming in my seat with inferiority.

  I was a Guardian, dammit. And a demon lord. Fancy degrees or economic honors and respect of the sept were not important to me. I was trying to convince myself of just that when there was a brief spattering of applause and everyone stood up, the front row filing onto the stage. One by one the members of the sept stopped in front of me, shook my hand, told me their names, and moved on to be greeted by their wyvern. It took almost three hours, and by the time it was done my hand ached, my brain swam with names and conversational inanities, and my stomach rumbled almost as loud as Jim’s grousing.

  “Are you going to feed us?” I asked Drake when the last sept member left. “Or do I have to apply an emergency hamburger to Jim so we can make it home without it expiring of starvation?”

  “Feeeeeeeeed me,” Jim moaned, flopping on its side in apparent exhaustion.

  Drake’s eyes glittered dangerously. I knew he must be as tired as I was, more so since he had talked to everyone twice as long as I had. I just administered conversational cocktails while they waited for the main course. “I would be happy to feed you. I was not aware you were welcoming my presence in anything but a purely formal situation.”

  “Yes, well, I need to talk to you about that, amongst other things, but right now, we need food. Is there somewhere nearby we can go?”

  There was. A short half hour later, I squeezed a slice of lemon into a tall glass of iced tea and sighed with dry-throated relief. Drake lounged across the table from me, consulting a menu. He’d managed to get us a private room, going so far as to bribe the restaurant manager to allow Jim in.

  “Are István and Pál not joining us?”

  He turned the menu over and scanned the back of it. “They are eating in the other room. They wished to give us privacy.”

  “Oh, good. That means you guys are either going to talk relationship or get naked. Either of which should distract me while my steak is being cooked.”

  “You’re having a chicken sandwich, not a steak. And just remember what the phrase ‘Effrijim, I command thee’ can do.”

  I swear Jim grinned at Drake. “She’s crazy about me.”

  “I can see that,” he answered dryly, turning his attention to the menu when a waiter slipped into the room. I gave an order for Jim and myself, toying with my iced-tea glass while Drake grilled him about the freshness of the salmon. There were so many things I wanted to say to Drake, so many questions I had, so many wicked, wanton acts my tongue wanted to engage in with him…but my brain, that ever-trusty organ, reminded me where those sorts of urges had led me in the past and warned me to make my way cautiously. Drake had broken my heart twice. I knew it couldn’t survive a third time.

  “Jim, when I order you not to listen to me, what exactly do you do? Hear the words but just don’t pay
attention? Don’t remember anything?”

  The demon sighed. “I knew you were going to do that. I can’t hear anything when you do that. It’s an order, and I can’t violate an order. So the words just aren’t there for me to hear.”

  “Oh. Good.” I set down my glass. “Effrijim, until further notice, you are not to hear anything Drake and I say.”

  Jim groaned and laid its big furry black head on its paws, giving me a nasty look. I ignored it. “We have some things to talk about. I dearly want to know what’s up with that Dmitri guy, but first things first.”

  Drake leaned back in his chair, an obstinate look on his handsome-as-sin face. “Yes, first things first—what did you mean when you told Pál that you’d been pushed in front of a train?”

  I hate it when Drake pulls the rug out from under me, conversationally speaking. “Oh, that. He asked why I was favoring one side when I had said I wasn’t hurt in the car crash. There’s not much to it—someone tried to kill me. Or rather, you, since no one would benefit from my death.”

  “You think not?” Drake’s eyebrows rose a little, but he didn’t explain. He just gestured at me to continue.

  “No, there’s no reason for anyone to want me gone unless it’s to try to get to you. To be honest…oh, man, I don’t know what to think. Gabriel was there, right next to me, so he could have been the person to push me. But he’s my friend!”

  “Gabriel?” Drake frowned to himself as he thought that over. “Describe to me exactly what happened.”

  It took a good ten minutes to go over everything. Drake asked several questions about who was standing next to me on the platform and how Gabriel had suddenly appeared.

  “I have always thought of him as an ally, it is true,” Drake said at last. “But he is the wyvern of another sept.”

  “You really think he pushed me?” I set down the piece of bread I’d been toying with. “But why? He’s always been so nice to me. I like him.”

  “I am merely exploring the possibilities, not stating it as a fact,” Drake answered, his voice the teensiest bit censuring. “I have had no indication that Gabriel means to do anyone harm.”