Me and My Shadow (30 page)

“What did I miss? I heard yelling,” Aisling said as she rushed into the room, Jim at her heels. She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Kostya and Cyrene, still engaged in a kiss. “Good god.”

“Fires of Abaddon,” Jim said, goggling. “He's gonna boink her right there!”

“Quiet, demon,” Aisling ordered absently, blinking at the sight of the two lovers.

Drake was immediately at her side, gently pulling her over to a chair. “
Kincsem
, I said I would fetch you when it was time. You are early. You will tire yourself.”

“Stop fussing,” she said, but there was love in her eyes as she kissed his cheek when he bent over her. “I'm fine. What's happened other than Cyrene and Kostya checking each other's fillings?”

“It would appear that Chuan Ren hasn't formally taken over control of her sept yet,” I said, watching the red wyvern.

Her lip curled at me. “Gabriel, tell your mate I will not repeat myself to her. I am the red wyvern. Nothing that puling little turd Fiat can do will change that, as you will see if you will have him brought to me so I may torture him as he deserves.”

“Excellent! I thought we might be late, but we're just in time for the torture,” Magoth said, flinging open the door. He was dressed in his usual pair of black leather pants, with a black shirt open to his navel, his favorite bullwhip wrapped around his waist. Next to him was the sultry-eyed Catalina, listing somewhat to the side as if she couldn't stand up straight.

“Mother?” Drake took a few steps forward, frowning first at his mother, then at Magoth. “What has happened to you?”

Magoth leered. “We had a very interesting night. Your mother is most . . . inventive . . . in her ideas of pleasure.”

Catalina's hair was mussed, her clothing wrinkled, her mouth red and swollen, and her eyes looked a bit vague, as if she'd been through a particularly strenuous orgy. “Inventive,” Catalina agreed, her expression dazed.

Drake swore under his breath as he tidied her blouse to cover a breast that was almost exposed. “I expected better of you, Mother. You look like a loose woman.”

“Loose.” She weaved at him, looking like she might fall over.

Magoth grabbed her quickly and propped her up against the doorframe, rubbing his hands as he entered the room. “What sort of torture are you having at this dragon gathering, hmm? I'm happy to act as consultant as to what is the best for large-group participation.”

“No one will be tortured at the
sárkány
,” Drake said, gesturing toward his mother. Immediately Pál and István, who had been standing at the other end of the room, moved to her side and started to take her out.

The word “torture” seemed to bring her around.

“Release me,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I can walk.” She gave both dragons a haughty look before straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin, and sailing into the room with a pale imitation of her normal aplomb.

She was fine until she spotted the twosome. The sight of them seemed to give her new energy.

“What is this?” she demanded, stalking into the room to stand next to the Cyrene/Kostya entity. “Who is this besom sucking the face of my firstborn, my delicious Kostya? Drake, what are you thinking allowing this?”

“Kostya is old enough to deal with his women as he likes,” Drake said smoothly, although he shot his brother a look as he said it. “I would, however, appreciate it if he managed to refrain from outright sexual intercourse during the
sárkány
.”

“You know how to take the fun out of any get-together,” Jim said.

“I insist that he stop!” Catalina said, hands on her hips. She nodded to the two models. “Remove that naiad from the person of my dear son.”

The two models hesitated, eyeing Cyrene. “I dare not contradict the wyvern,” one of them finally said.

“You will do as I say,” she said, gaining control of herself with every passing moment. “Remove her!”

“We cannot,” the second model said, casting an appealing glance toward the male bodyguard.

“We answer only to the wyvern,” he explained, somewhat lamely to my ears.

Catalina didn't like that.

“Drake!” she demanded. “Do something! She will smother him.”

“Mother, I told you that your presence, no matter how charming, was not required at the
sárkány
,” Drake said, moving toward his mother, pausing only to glare at Magoth as he tried to look down Aisling's top.

She drew a ward in the air that had the demon lord leaping back with a yelp.

“You obviously are not yourself right now. You will return to your room and rest,” Drake continued, taking his mother by the arm and propelling her toward the door.

“You will not order me around like that! I did not rip you screaming from my body only to have you order me around now!
Madre de dios
, she will kill him! She will suck the life out of his body! Drake! You will cease pushing me out the door.” She lurched to the side of the door, clutching the doorframe.

“Only dragons in septs recognized by the weyr may attend the
sárkány
,” Drake answered, prying her fingers off the frame. “You are a black dragon, and the black dragons have not yet been recognized. I will tell you later all that happens.”

“I will not have this!” Catalina yelled as Pál and István, each taking an arm, hauled her toward the stairs.

“Inventive, but alas, a bit on the shouty side,” Magoth said, taking my hand and pressing a wet kiss to the back. “It is better she is taken off. You look delicious as ever, wife. I see your twin will be hosting an orgy. Dare I hope that will take place during the torture?”

I yanked my hand from his, but I really needn't have bothered.

Gabriel lifted Magoth up by the neck, and started to squeeze.

“May, do something,” Magoth squeaked, his face turning red.

“You know better than to bait Gabriel,” I told him, but mindful of the scene my twin was already creating, I decided that circumspection was the best course. I touched Gabriel on the arm and gestured toward the floor.

He hesitated a moment; then he, too, realized that strangling Magoth on the spot wouldn't be in the best interests of the
sárkány
. He released him with a warning of, “Touch her again, and I will remove your curse.”

“You can't remove it,” Magoth said blithely, then froze as the meaning sank into his lust-fogged brain. His hands moved protectively over his groin as he glared at Gabriel. “Wife, one of these days your lover will go too far.”

“Stop calling me that,” I said as Drake marched over.

“Your presence is not required, either,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “Leave.”

“I think not,” Magoth said, sitting down in a chair set at the wall.

“You are not a dragon. This is a
sárkány
, a meeting of the weyr. You cannot be allowed to stay,” Drake insisted.

“Ah, but my consort is here, and where she goes, so goes me. I. Me. Whichever. Those are the rules, and since you are such a stickler for such, I'm sure you will have no difficulty agreeing I should follow them.”

Drake shot me a questioning look.

“Unfortunately,” I said, my shoulder slumping a little as I leaned into Gabriel, “he's correct. The rules say he can demand to be in my presence at any time.”

Drake said something that wasn't very complimentary to anyone, but let it go, turning when the door opened again to admit a very handsome blond man, followed by two other men, both with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. “A thousand apologies for our lateness. The flight was delayed.”

“Bastian,” Aisling called from her chair. “How nice to see you. Did you have much trouble getting into Fiat's lair?”

“None at all, dear lady. You look radiant as ever. Will you be having that child soon?” he asked, bowing over her hand.

Drake growled and elbowed him aside.

Aisling laughed. “Very soon, I hope. Forgive Drake—he's overdosed on expectant-father genes.”

“Ah, but it is understandable.” Bastian greeted Chuan Ren, who nodded coldly to him. He turned to us with a warm smile. “The blue dragons offer greetings to Gabriel and his charming mate. May, I present to you Duarte and Godhino, my guards. And is that your twin who Kostya is kissing?”

“I'd say the reverse was technically the truth, but by now, it's a moot point. Yes, that's Cyrene. Please ignore them. They appear to be trying to break a world record,” I said, smiling at the blue dragon bodyguards as they grinned back at me before moving on to chat with Tipene and Maata.

“And this is . . . er . . .” Bastian didn't quite know how to take Magoth, I could see. “This is . . . ?”

“I am Magoth, sixth principle spirit of Abaddon, lord of thirty legions, marquis of the order of dominations,” he said with an odd expression of concentration as he scanned Bastian's face. “Don't I know you?”

Bastian looked startled. “No. I've never met a demon lord before. Other than Aisling, of course, but she doesn't really count because she is not evil.”

“Yes, I do. I know you,” Magoth said, continuing his scrutiny. “It was Milan in the last century. I was there for an opening of one of my films, and you were in the villa next to mine. You tried to seduce me. I would not let you because I was, at that time, busy enthralling a certain naiad who apparently has the ability to hold her breath for an inordinately long amount of time, but it was you—of that I'm sure. Well, well, well. And now you're a wyvern?”

Bastian looked a bit wild around the eyes. “I've never seen you before. I've never had a villa in Milan! My villa is in Santa Christina!”

“I
know
it was you,” Magoth insisted.

“It could have been Fiat,” I said thoughtfully. “You look almost identical, although it's odd that Fiat didn't remember you.”

Magoth grunted his agreement. “I am unforgettable as a lover.”

That was probably the understatement of the century. “I didn't know that Fiat was of that persuasion, but I suppose anything is possible.”

Magoth shrugged and looked away, bored. “He had his cock buried in the wife of the local mayor at the time he propositioned me, so he probably does as I do—whatever pleases him at the moment.” He glanced back at Bastian, about to ask an obvious question.

“No,” Bastian said quickly, much to his bodyguards' amusement. “I am not interested.”

“Your loss, as my sweet May can tell you,” Magoth said, blowing me a kiss.

Gabriel moved so fast I didn't even see him. Magoth did, though. Or rather, he felt the result of Gabriel's fist smashing into his nose. Magoth's head snapped back, slamming into the wall.

“My apologies,” Gabriel said to the room at large, returning to my side. Maata snickered. Tipene grinned broadly. I sighed. “I had a muscle spasm, and my hand must have hit Magoth.”

“Muscle spasm,” I said, giving him a look.

His dimples flared to life, and I considered for a moment duplicating my twin's action, and leaping on the man I loved.

“Later, little bird,” he said, the dratted man reading my mind again. He took my hand and tucked it into his arm. “Then you may have your way with me again.”

“Enough!” Chuan Ren said in a demanding tone. “Let us begin the
sárkány
so that I might seek my revenge against that worm Fiat.”

I eyed Gabriel, thinking all sorts of thoughts that weren't at all appropriate to a
sárkány
, as the dragons gathered around the table.

“Kostya,” Drake said, standing next to his brother.

Neither Kostya nor Cyrene stopped their epic kiss.

“Konstantin Fekete,” Drake said in a louder voice, invoking Kostya's full name to get his attention. When Kostya still didn't respond, he gave him a hard shove, saying in a lower tone, “For god's sake, Kostya, we've seen enough. Pull yourself together. The
sárkány
is ready to start.”

Kostya managed to pull back from Cyrene, a dazed look on his face.
“Sárkány?”
he asked, clearly not registering the word.

“Oh, Kostykins,” Cyrene cooed, sliding down his body until her feet were under her again. “I knew you cared. I just knew it. You admit it, don't you? You love me more than some silly treasure.”

Kostya's expression hardened as intelligence returned to his eyes. A faint dusky flush rode his cheeks as he glanced around the room. “Erm . . . I was momentarily distracted. I apologize for such behavior.”

“Oh no, you're not getting away from me before you admit it,” Cyrene said, latching onto the front of his black tunic. “You have to say it before witnesses. I'm not going to repeat what I've gone through these last couple of days. You say it.”

“Now is not the time, woman,” Kostya said, prying Cyrene's hands off his shirt.

“Of course it is. Say it!”

“The
sárkány
is about to begin. We will deal with our personal issues later,” Kostya insisted, taking Cy by the wrist and pulling her over to a chair next to the wall. He shoved her down into it before striding over to the table.

“Like hell we will! Say it!” She was there in front of him again. “Say it or so help me, I'll smite you as you've never been smited!”

“ ‘Smitten,' I think, is the word. Is it not?” Bastian asked Duarte. “Which tense is that? English has always confused me.”

“You can't smite me,” Kostya said with a smug quirk to his lips. “Naiads don't smite.”