Dragon Bound (21 page)

They arrived at an executive conference room, as richly appointed and built on the same massive scale as everything else. A couple of people were already present. Cuelebre Enterprises’ PR faerie, Thistle Periwinkle, stood in a formal pose, hands clasped at her waist. She was dressed in a pale blue silk pantsuit and gladiator-style sandals. Standing no more than five feet tall, she looked even more diminutive when she was surrounded by oversized Wyr. The faerie faced one wall and was speaking Elvish. The teleconference had already begun.

Dragos took Pia by the hand and strode forward. Looking curiously at Pia, the faerie backed out of the way. Dragos turned to face the large flat-screen on the opposite wall. Rune and Graydon assumed places behind them.

Three tall, slender Elves filled the screen. They stood in a sunlit office much like the conference room. Ferion stood to the right. A gracious Elven woman with long black hair and a starlit gaze was on the left. The Elf in the middle had the same ageless beauty as the others, but the Power in his eyes was palpable even through the distance of the teleconference.

They all wore cold expressions as they regarded Dragos. The Elven High Lord’s gaze glittered. Dragos appeared unimpressed, his body stance aggressive. His face had turned dangerous, and his eyes flat and wicked.

Alrighty. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

The Elven High Lord looked at her, and spring came to his winter-cold elegant face. “We see that Ferion did not exaggerate,” he said in a deep, musical voice. He inclined his head to her. “My lady. It is our very great pleasure to meet you. I am Calondir and this is my consort, the lady Beluviel.”

A fine trembling took up residence under her skin. The sense of exposure was back, and this time it was all but unbearable. In a whole long string of bad ideas, doing this teleconference in front of witnesses came close to topping the cake. Dragos’s fingers tightened on hers to the point of pain.

She took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now. Might as well see what she could make out of yet another screwup. “I’m honored to meet you,” she said. “Please forgive me. I don’t have any formal Court training.”

The Elven woman smiled at her. “Such things count as nothing compared to a good heart.”

Dragos said, “You wanted to see if she was all right. She is. We’re done.”

“Wait. We wish to hear that from her,” Calondir said icily. The Elven High Lord looked at Pia. “Lady, are you well?”

She glanced at Dragos’s stone-cold profile and then back at the Elves. She said on impulse, “I am being treated with extraordinary graciousness, my lord. While I did not want to, I actually did commit a crime. Dragos has heard the circumstances of what happened and what compelled me. He’s chosen to forgive me. I would respectfully ask that you consider doing the same for him. No harm has come to you from his actions. But a great deal of harm has come to him from mine, which I very much regret.”

Something stirred through the conference room, a sigh of movement. Dragos turned to look at her. The High Lord regarded her for a long, grave moment. “We will think on your words,” he said at last. “If the Great Beast is capable of grace, perhaps we can do no less.”

Feeling awkward, she bowed to the Elven High Lord. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“In the meantime, we would ask that you come and visit us,” Beluviel said. Her smiling eyes were warm. “Your presence would bring us much pleasure. We would speak with you of . . . well, of things from long ago.”

Pia translated that to mean Beluviel had known, and loved, her mother. Her eyes misted and she nodded.

Dragos stepped forward and pulled her behind him. The gesture was unmistakably possessive. Even from her limited view behind his shoulder, she could tell that the Elves had stiffened. “Stop that. What’s the matter with you!” she whispered to him. He was going to unravel all the good she tried to do for him. She shoved at his arm. It was like trying to move a boulder. He twisted to glare at her. She leaned sideways to look around him and she promised the Elves, “I’ll talk to him.”

The Elven High Lord raised his eyebrows. Ferion’s face was the picture of offense. Beluviel looked startled. The Elven woman had just begun to smile when the screen went blank.

Dragos rounded on her. He looked furious. “You are not going to visit with the Elves!”

“Did I say I was going to visit the Elves?” she snapped. “I was being polite! You might look that word up sometime in a dictionary!”

He glared around. “Out.”

The room emptied. Thistle gave Pia a gleeful ear-to-ear grin, eyes sparkling. The faerie held her hand up to her cheek, thumb and pinkie out, mimicking a phone. “We’ll talk,” she mouthed as she bounced out the door.

Pia tugged hard. Dragos refused to let go of her arm. She sighed and put a hand over her eyes as her shoulders sagged. She muttered to herself, “How did I get here and what the hell am I doing.”

Beside her, Dragos took several deep breaths. She could feel the air around him burning with Power. He was very angry with her, maybe for the first time since the beach. He dropped her arm and began to pace around her.

“The Elves know more about you than I do,” he snarled in her ear as he passed by. “Unacceptable. They know who your mother was. Also unacceptable. They want you to come live with them. They’re enemies of mine.”

The exposure, the constant stress, the uncertainties of her present situation, all became too much. “All I wanted was to try to help you!” she burst out. She threw her arms over her head and burst into tears.

He started to swear, a steady stream of vitriol. His hands came onto her shoulders. She jerked away and turned her back to him. His arms came around her from behind. He pulled her against him, curving around her, and put his head down next to hers. “Shh,” he said, still sounding angry. “Stop now. Calm down.”

She sobbed harder and hunched her shoulders, resisting his hold.

His body clenched. He said, “Pia, please don’t pull away from me.” He sounded strained.

It caught her attention so that she let him turn her around. He leaned back against the conference table, pulled her arms down and held her tight. She leaned her body against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody anything about me,” she said. The tears streamed down her face and soaked his T-shirt. “I was supposed to live my life in secret. But I didn’t want to be alone. All I told was one damn secret and it keeps snowballing on me. First Keith, then you, then the Elves, then Goblins, then the Fae King, then more Elves again, and all the people in this room watching, and you just keep digging and digging at me and you won’t stop until I feel like I’m going to scream.”

He rested his cheek against her head and rubbed her back. “I am cursed with a terminal case of curiosity,” he said. “I am jealous, selfish, acquisitive, territorial and possessive. I have a terrible temper, and I know I can be a cruel son of a bitch.” He cocked his head. “I used to eat people, you know.”

If he meant to shock her out of crying, he succeeded. A snort burst out of her. “That’s awful,” she said. Her nose was clogged. “I mean it, that’s awful. It’s not funny. I’m not laughing.”

He sighed. “It was a long time ago. Thousands of years. Once I really was the beast the Elves call me.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed her fingers along the seam of his T-shirt. “What made you stop?”

“I had a conversation with somebody. It was an epiphany.” His voice was rueful. He rocked her. “From that point on I swore I would never eat something that could talk.”

“Hey, that’s kind of your version of turning vegetarian, isn’t it?” she said.

He laughed. “I guess maybe it is. All of that is a long, roundabout way of saying I’m sorry. I don’t always get the emotional nuances of a situation and I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s everything, it’s not just you.” She turned her head and put her face in his neck.

He held her closer. “I want you to trust me more than you trusted that dumbass boyfriend of yours.”

She sighed. “When are you going to let go of that? Ex-boyfriend. Ex. And anyway, he’s dead.”

“I want you to tell me what and who you are, not just because I want to know but because you want to tell me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because you’re mine,” he snapped.

“I’m not just a possession, like you’d own a lamp.” She pulled back and glared at him. He just looked back at her, face hard and eyes unapologetic. She sighed. “I guess that’s the possessive and territorial bit, isn’t it? You know, I don’t want to fight with you.”

Like any efficient predator, he scented weakness and acted on it. “Then don’t,” he said. He gave her a coaxing smile. “Just give me everything I want.”

She groaned and let her head fall back. She stared at the ceiling. She had to grant him a lot of respect. At least he was all out there, nothing hidden. He was up front with who he was and what he wanted, and he wasn’t ashamed of a single bit of it. Not like her.

“I guess I’ve got a lot to think about,” she said.

Even as he enjoyed looking at the pure, clean line of her throat, he frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her upright so that he could look into her eyes. They were a drenched dark violet blue, bigger and more beautiful than ever. She gazed back at him, waiting to see what he would do next. That wasn’t what he wanted either.

There she was, inside of her skin, and she was more of a mystery to him than ever. It was driving him crazy. Curiosity gripped him, and without realizing he was taking a momentous step, he asked, “What do you want?”

Surprise lit her face. She tilted her head and smiled at him. Did she dare to have the kind of courage he had and just say what she wanted out loud? “I guess I want what a lot of people want. I want to feel safe,” she said, lifting one shoulder. “I want to have a say in my own life. I want to be loved. I don’t want to live this half life of not being either human or Wyr. I wish I were one thing or the other. I want to belong somewhere.”

He had a strange, intent expression on his face as he listened to her. His eyes were open and accepting in a way she didn’t think she had experienced from anyone else before.

“I don’t know what love means,” he said. “But you belong somewhere. You belong here with me. I will keep you safe. And I think you might be more Wyr than you realize.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re stronger since we were in the Other land. I can sense it in you.” His eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, yes, now that you mention it.” She gave a half laugh. “I mean, I’ve been kind of too busy to process everything that’s happened, but I do still feel like I did over there—I don’t know, more alive. My hearing, eyesight, everything is . . . more.”

“You weren’t sure that you could heal me,” he said, as he had earlier. “And maybe you couldn’t a couple of weeks ago. Remember, I said it can make some half-breeds that way when they get immersed in magic from the Other land. Sometimes the magic triggers a reaction and they’re able to come fully into their Wyr nature.”

She gripped fistfuls of his T-shirt. Could what he was telling her be true?

He covered her hands with his, watching her. “How long has it been since you last tried to shift?”

“Years ago,” she whispered. Her eyes went unfocused as she thought back. “After puberty. It was before my mom died. I think I was sixteen. We tried every six months or so. Once I was an adult, medically speaking, we decided there wasn’t any more point in putting either of us through it anymore. She was fine; she loved me no matter what. But I kept getting too disappointed when I couldn’t change.”

He touched her nose. “Sixteen is a very young age to give up. Most Wyr have life spans much longer than humans, even mortal Wyr, and they mature at a later age.”

She hardly dared to breathe. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I can’t make you any promises,” he told her. “But over time I’ve helped a lot of Wyrkind through a difficult first change. If you want to try again and you trust me, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

THIRTEEN

S
he threw her arms around him, hugging him hard. Then she pulled away and paced in a circle, her mind racing. She flung herself at him and hugged him again. He laughed and gripped her by the hips to hold her in one place.

“Did you hear me when I said I can’t make any promises?” he demanded.

“Yes, of course I did,” she said, distracted. She focused on him, her face grave. If it worked, she would be hunted for the rest of her life. But the way her life was spiraling out of control, she was going to be hunted anyway.

“All right, then.” He paused. “Think about it. Let me know what you decide.”

She nodded. He kissed her, stroking her cheek. Then he strode over to the door and opened it. Clusters of talking people in the hall sprang to attention.

“Who needs to be here?” he asked. Most scattered like buckshot. A few of his sentinels, including Rune and Graydon, remained. Pia wiped her face on her sleeves in a vain effort to make herself more presentable.

Cuelebre Enterprises’ PR faerie slipped around Dragos and into the conference room while he talked to the others. Beaming, she bounced over to Pia. “Hi! Oh wow, am I pleased to meet you.”

Taken aback, Pia took the little hand the faerie stuck under her nose. “Hi, thank you. You’re Thistle Periwinkle, right?”

“Oh please,” the faerie groaned. “That’s my stupid TV name. Don’t call me that. Call me Tricks; everybody else does.”

“Okay . . . Tricks. I’m Pia.” She smiled. Much as she had never cared for the faerie in television appearances, it was hard not to smile at this compact package of ebullience.

“Listen, I know we don’t have much time.” Tricks waved her hands. “I’m busy, you’re busy, everybody’s busy. I’ve got a lot I want to say to you, though.”

“All right,” Pia told her. “Hit me with it.”

“First, I’m so sorry about what my uncle Urien did to you guys. I hate him, he killed my family, and we’re going to cut off his head, and then I have to be Queen, but before that happens let’s do lunch, okay?”

Pia felt like the faerie had just jumped on her head and started tap-dancing on it. She said, “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Tricks told her. “And I wanted to say you did an awesome job with Mr. and Mrs. I-Keep-My-Dignity-Stuck-Up-My-Ass. Really awesome job.”

Pia burst out laughing. “You’re talking about the Elves.”

Tricks blinked and wrinkled her freckled nose. “Of course. You want a job?”

“What?”

“I need to hire someone to take over my PR job, with the upcoming assassination and taking the throne and all, and I think you’d be great. Oh, never mind; we don’t have time to talk about that right now. We’ll talk about that over lunch.” The faerie looked over her shoulder. She made a V with the first and second fingers of both hands and waved them like President Nixon. “Two more things real quick. One, just so you know, not everybody’s happy about you being here. A lot of folks are great, I mean, you know, in a Wyr kind of way, but there are also some people that I think are nasty-dangerous characters. Not that I’m talking about anything specific, just . . . There are a lot of predators that work here. That means there are some pretty hot heads and sometimes things blow up without much warning, so you just want to watch out for yourself.”

“Predators, hot heads,” Pia said, watching the faerie in fascination. “Right. I think I do want to have lunch with you.”

“Of course you do!” Tricks said. She lowered her voice in a whisper. “And last but not least. Dragos? Oh my God, he’s so gone on you!” She giggled. “I’ve lived at the Wyr Court for two hundred years and I’ve never seen him this way. Everybody’s freaked because
nobody’s
seen him this way, not even folks who are way older than me. So, you know, he’s a man and a dragon and all that, and I know that means he’s got communication issues, but hoo, honey, he’s so hot he smokes without ever having to light up, if you know what I mean, so . . . way to be, my mama!” The faerie giggled again and held her hand out for a fist bump. “Okay, that’s what I wanted to say.” She beamed at Pia. “Lunch today, one o’clock, got it?”

“Got it,” Pia said in a dazed voice as she fist-bumped the little hand held out to her. Dragos, gone on her? Really gone on her? Not just having a sexual fling? Not just having a possessive fit?

Oh God, I hope so. Don’t I? Do I? She chewed her lip.

“Gotta go.” Tricks winked at her and bounced out just as Dragos, Rune and Graydon stepped back in. The faerie tapped Rune on the arm. “Be sure to have Pia at my office at one o’clock, hear?”

“Do I look like a social secretary?” Rune said.

Tricks’s eyes narrowed and the happy good humor she had shown Pia vanished as if it had never existed. She pointed at her own face. “Do I look like I care right now? I have a million and one things to do before I go, so don’t give me any grief.”

Rune laughed and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry, pipsqueak. I know you’re having a challenging week.”

Tricks readjusted her finger aim and pointed at Rune. “Yeah, well, don’t make me come find you either.” She charged away, tiny heels clicking down the hall.

“Looking rather shell-shocked there, lover,” Dragos said to Pia with a lazy smile. He strolled across the room to kiss her. “Tricks tends to have that effect on people.”

“I guess.” Pia’s smile was uncertain.

“When she’s in her manic phase, she’s a little like trying crack for the first time,” Rune said. He blinked at them, his face bland. “Not that I would know what that feels like.”

“Right,” Dragos said in a brisk voice. “I have things to do, Tiago to talk to, a beheading to plan.” He looked at her. “You good?”

She smiled at him again with more surety. “Yes.”

“Good.” He paused. “Thank you for what you did in the teleconference.”

“You’re welcome.”

He looked at Rune and Graydon. “She gets to do what she wants. Got it?”

Graydon looked at his feet with a long-suffering expression and rubbed the back of his neck. Rune pursed his lips and said, “Dragos, that might call for . . . a lot of tactical consideration. Don’t you think it would be wiser to restrict her movements?”

“Why are they talking about her in the third person while she’s standing right here in the room?” she said in a resentful mutter. Hot gold eyes met hers. Was it her imagination or did his lips tighten with some kind of suppressed emotion? Then he turned to give Rune a machete smile.

“Fuck you,” Dragos told him. “I’m not the boss of her.”

He strode out. The conference room seemed to darken and expand at the absence of his nuclear presence. Then Pia stood, looking up at her two huge, stony-faced guards. Oh boy.

“Ms. Giovanni,” Rune said in a smooth voice, as he stared at a point beyond her left shoulder. “For your convenience and pleasure Dragos has sent for a personal shopper to attend to you today. The shopper should be arriving any minute now.”

Pia stared at the gryphon. She turned away, pulled out the chair at the end of the conference table and sank into it. She flattened her hands across the polished surface. Clothing rustled as someone shifted behind her.

Okay. She nodded. Okay.

“Would you both please have a seat?” she asked.

After a moment, Rune took the seat at her right and sprawled long limbs out. Graydon took the seat at her left. The two men exchanged a look. She bet they were wondering what she was going to do next. She was kind of wondering that herself.

Her fingernails had gotten ragged. She rubbed at the uneven edge of her right index finger. Never enough time in a day.

“So,” she said in a quiet voice as she looked at her hands, “is this passive-aggressive smarmy attitude working for you, slick? Because I’ve got to tell you, it’s not working for me. In the last week and a half or so, I’ve been blackmailed, chased, threatened, in a car wreck that would have turned me into hamburger if it hadn’t been for your boss, kidnapped, beaten up and chased again. I was in a showdown with a Goblin army and the Fae King and forty or fifty of his favorite guys, and what life I had has been destroyed.”

She heard Rune suck in a breath. She said, “I’m not finished yet. I’m also stuffed to the eyeballs with autocratic macho behavior since Dragos is all over that one. Just so you understand when I say I’m running low on patience right now. I get you guys don’t want to be babysitting me. You’ve made it loud and clear. I don’t want it either, but it is what it is. So can we do this easy, or do we have to do it hard? I’m trying to be nice, but I don’t have any problem at all with doing it hard if that’s really what you want.”

She looked up at the two men. Graydon had put his elbows on the table. He was watching her. For the first time she noticed he had nice slate gray eyes. She didn’t see acceptance in his craggy face but at least it was no longer outright rejection.

Rune had folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his gaze on her.

“Slick,” Graydon said. “She got you with that one, my man.”

“Fuck you,” Rune said.

“Believe it or not,” Graydon told her, “he’s the diplomatic one of the bunch. Dragos sends him out to do all sorts of smarmy passive-aggressive shit.”

Rune leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table. “Shut up, asshole.”

She bit her lip and refused to smile.

Rune looked at her. “Okay, Ms. Giovanni, let’s try a do-over. See how it goes.”

“Call me Pia.”

He nodded. “Just so you know, though, you do anything to betray Dragos and I’ll disembowel you myself.”

She rounded her eyes. “Wow, slick, that makes us practically BFFs, huh?”

Graydon exploded. After a moment, Rune grinned too. “All right, Pia,” he said. “What would you like to do today?”

She considered him. “We already know I’m meeting Tricks for lunch. What do you think I should do?”

That must have been the right thing to say, because both men relaxed.

“Well, now that you ask,” he said, “safest thing would be for you to hang out in the penthouse.” She sighed. He went on, “But I can see how that wouldn’t appeal. Next best thing, stay in the Tower. We’ll follow orders and take you out if you really want to go, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, and to be blunt, I don’t think Dragos does either.”

She turned thoughtful. Dragos’s brief struggle with something had not just been her imagination. He had reined in his own impulses and opinions to allow her at least some freedom of choice.

Rune continued, “Also, sometime today I’d like to go to the gym and run through some safety pointers with you.”

She refocused on him and nodded. “Okay. I’ve taken classes that should help with that.”

“I know about them classes. Cardio Kickboxing,” said Graydon. “Turbo Dance. I watch the infomercials.”

“You’re not helping, Gilligan,” Rune said.

She smiled. “How about this? If you don’t mind, I would like a tour of the Tower.” They both nodded. “I would also kill for a Starbucks soy vanilla latte if that isn’t too much trouble. There’s got to be a coffee shop close by. And I have to have new tennis shoes. Mine got trashed. I’ve got about twelve hundred dollars in my savings account if I can just get at it. Then, maybe after Tricks and I have lunch, we can hit the gym.”

Rune dug in his pocket and pulled out a card. He put it on the table and pushed it to her without a word.

She stared. And stared.

An American Express Black Centurion card. With her name on it.

A half-dozen emotions shuttled through her at high speed, starting with offense. Was he trying to
pay
for her, like she was some kind of whore? Was this to keep her widdle self entertained while he was busy, until he got tired of her and decided to get rid of her? She gripped shaking hands together and took deep, measured breaths until she found some self-control.

As she calmed she remembered what Tricks had said. Dragos was a man and a dragon, which meant he had communication issues.

Amusement was the last emotion to shuttle in to the station. It braked hard and stayed. Dragos wasn’t treating her like a whore. He was trying to give her a treat.

The gryphons were watching her with their game faces on.

“That card is so wrong I don’t even want to talk about it. It’s kind of fun to look at, but it’s wrong.” Moving as though the card might explode on her, she put one finger on a corner and pushed it back to Rune. “Look, all I want is a couple hundred dollars of my own money, a latte and new shoes. Okay?”

Rune smiled a real smile this time as both he and Graydon relaxed further. “How about I loan you some money until we can get you access to your bank account? There’s a Starbucks on the ground floor, along with some other shops, a CVS and a decent restaurant.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Just then a slender dark-haired man burst chattering into the conference room. He was the personal shopper, a Wyr-mink named Stanford. “Hi, girlfriend, it’s nice to meetcha. Look at what I got for yoo-hoo. A black Dolce & Gabbana satin robe, ooh, it’s going to look so stunning with your hair and coloring.” He put a Saks Fifth Avenue box in front of her, opened it and, with a dramatic flick of his wrist, shook out the robe. “Go ahead and feel it, honey. It’s divine.”

Pia listened to the Wyr’s incessant chatter. She looked at the robe. From Saks. She pressed fingers to the skin over her right eyebrow, where a headache was beginning to throb. She asked, “Hi there, nice to meet you too. Stanford, how much did that cost?”

The shopper stared at her as if she had sprouted horns. “Cost?”

“And why did you get it for me? I have a fine robe already.”

Graydon cleared his throat. He tapped her arm. She leaned over and he whispered, “I think the boss wants you to have something that’s more than a tiny scrap of pink that barely covers your ass. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a lovely ass.”

She jerked back and stared at the gryphon. “Excuse me?”

The huge man’s cheeks darkened. He raised a finger. “Not that I meant to say that or to notice or anything. Fuck. I mean, I get it about the card, but if I were you, I’d think about letting the boss give you a robe. You know, ’cause sometimes things happen and us guys are around without a whole lot of warning. And I don’t think he’s okay with us seeing you wrapped up in that cute little pink handkerchief.”