Dragos drew in a deep breath and fought for calm. He said quietly to the guard, “Go into the house.”
Bowing his head, the guard fled, leaving him and Pia to regard each other.
Finally he said, “You don’t have to say anything. I know that was excessive.”
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Was he? She had asked the question in all seriousness, so he pondered that. “I think so. Just—be careful not to get too close to any other males right now. I’m too much in touch with the mating frenzy.”
“I understand,” she said quietly. “Perhaps we should have considered things more carefully and put off trying to get pregnant until after this week was over.”
“We made an emotional decision. There’s nothing wrong with that. We’ll make it work. I’ll talk to Bayne, so he can warn the staff, and I’ll be on guard when we’re in public.” He bent slightly to extend his hand to her. “Welcome to one of your homes, Lady Cuelebre.”
The concept that she was part owner of the magnificent mansion clearly startled her, as her eyes widened even further, but she swallowed down whatever she might have said and placed her hand in his.
As he supported Pia’s exit out of the Cadillac and straightened, he swept the scene once more.
Then Dragos Cuelebre, Lord of the Wyr, escorted his mate and wife into his Washington abode.
Chapter Four
Once inside the elegant foyer, Pia told Eva, “I want to see everything.”
Dragos tightened his hold on her fingers. “You need to eat.”
“Ten minutes,” she said. “I want the quick tour. I’ll be right back.”
Her eyes were sparkling and the color was back in her cheeks, so he reluctantly let her go. As the two women jogged up the marble staircase, Bayne appeared, strolling down the hallway.
As the sentinel on duty for the week, Bayne was in charge of all the security details. Instead of wearing his usual jeans, T-shirts and boots, which was the standard attire for all the sentinels at home in New York, the gryphon wore a dark gray suit, with a black shirt and tie. The outfit emphasized his large, tall build and short, tawny hair.
Dragos ran a critical eye down the other man’s figure. The excellent cut of the suit hid his weapons well. Bayne would be an acceptable addition at any except the most formal functions, and for those, he had brought a black tux.
As the other man reached him, Bayne gave him a nod in greeting. “One of my guards wanted me to apologize to you on his behalf,” the sentinel said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. “Rather profusely, I might add. So, he’s really, really sorry. What’d he do?”
Dragos blew out a breath through his nostrils in an inaudible growl. It was going to be a long damn week. “He almost took Pia’s hand to help her out of the car, and I snapped at him.”
“I see.” Bayne’s tone was neutral.
He shot the other man a look from under lowered brows. “Pia can get out of a fucking car by herself. She doesn’t need males tripping over themselves to touch her. And in any case, I’ll be the one to escort her. At all times. You hear?”
Eyebrows raised, Bayne pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. I also sense there may be some, ah, underlying tension?”
Dragos strode for the dining room, and the other man fell into step beside him. Telepathically, he said, Keep this confidential. We’re trying to get pregnant, and yes, it’s brought back the mating frenzy. So, make sure everyone is warned.
Bayne began to smile. And I was worried this week might be boring. I’ll prep everybody to take care.
In the dining room, the long, gleaming antique mahogany table had two place settings at one end.
They lived very informal lives in upstate New York. Even when they stayed in the penthouse in Cuelebre Tower in the city, more often than not, Pia chose to cook. But here in D.C., appearances were everything. He noted in approval the gleaming polished silver, formal bone china, and heavy cream linen napkins.
Two uniformed staff were in the process of bringing dishes of hot food from the kitchen—pasta with sundried tomatoes and garlic in olive oil, a kale and artichoke salad, ham sliced fresh off the bone, roasted potatoes, and green beans garnished with something colorful and red, perhaps peppers.
“Set another place at the table,” Dragos told one of the servers. She nodded and headed back into the kitchen. He said to Bayne, “Stay and eat with us. I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing and what you’ve heard so far.”
“You got it.”
“Make that two places,” Pia said to the server from the doorway.
She and Eva walked into the room. At first Pia made as if she might go to hug Bayne—something that was perfectly acceptable under normal circumstances, and very like her usual affectionate style with all the sentinels—but Bayne took a nimble step back, and she jerked to a halt and redirected to pick up one of the place settings.
It could have been ridiculously uncomfortable, but dancing around sensitive mating issues was such a way of life for the Wyr, everybody adjusted smoothly, and within a few moments, they were all seated at the table and serving themselves from the silver platters of food.
“Almost all the other demesne leaders have already arrived,” Bayne said, as he piled ham onto his plate.
All of the U.S. demesnes had committed to coming—Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen from Los Angeles; Ferion, the new Elven High Lord from Charleston; Dragos, as leader of the Wyr in New York; Isalynn, the head of the witches demesne from Kentucky; Jered, the current head of the Demonkind assembly from Houston; and even Niniane, the Dark Fae Queen from Chicago, had come, despite the fact she spent most of her time in the Dark Fae Other land Adriyel.
Dragos shook his head. All the demesne leaders convening in D.C. at the same time. That had never happened before. To anyone paying attention, that alone said more than anything else about how seriously the demesnes were taking the human unrest.
He asked, “Did Julian come?”
“Well no, not Julian,” Bayne replied. “He’s still adamant about taking a year off from the political scene, but Xavier is here as Julian’s regent and Nightkind representative. From what I heard, Isalynn was arriving sometime this afternoon too. Tric—Niniane and Tiago got in last night. Eva and I had dinner with them.”
“We ordered a shit ton of pepperoni pizza,” Eva said with a grin.
Pia’s tired face lit with pleasure. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. How are they?”
“Really well,” Bayne told her. “All the fresh air and potential assassinations in Adriyel are good for Tiago. And Niniane looks happy. Only it’s more than that.”
“How so?” Dragos asked curiously.
Bayne frowned. “I guess I want to say she looks settled.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Pia smiled.
Bayne helped himself to another slice of ham. “The not-so-good news—there are thousands of people outside the White House, protesting the summit. It’s been all over the news. There’s been backlash to that as well on the news, with some idiots on the other side putting down the human protestors for being close-minded bigots.” The sentinel looked at Pia. “I know you were looking forward to doing some sightseeing if you could find any time, but I don’t recommend it. Not for this trip.”
The pleasure died from Pia’s expression, and she looked tired and pale again. She said quietly, “Of course, that doesn’t matter.”
It did matter. Anything that drained the smile from her face mattered. Likely nothing dangerous would happen in any potential sightseeing jaunt, but there could be some unpleasantness.
Dragos told her, “Civil unrest happens all the time. Look at the sixties and the Vietnam War. We’ll come back when things have calmed down. I’ll take you sightseeing, myself.”
“I’d like that,” she told him. Abruptly, she set aside her cutlery. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get ready for the evening.”
He glanced at
her plate. She had eaten perhaps half of her food.
Eva stood too. “I’ll check to see if they’re done ironing your dress and bring it up if they are.”
“Thanks.” Pia stepped close to press a kiss to Dragos’s forehead. She told him telepathically, I ate what I wanted. Don’t fuss.
I don’t fuss, goddammit, he growled.
She chuckled in his head as she walked away. Keep telling that to yourself, my love.
He glowered at her plate but didn’t say another word.
* * *
Breathing evenly, Pia climbed the magnificent staircase on shaky legs.
She managed to get to the bathroom in the master suite before she began vomiting. Rushing to the bathroom sink instead of the toilet, because it was closer, she made it just in time before her body struggled to rid itself of everything she had just put in her stomach.
When she finished, she hung her head, panting, while she tried to think.
I’m usually healthy as a horse.
(Heh. Horse.)
Why would I start vomiting now, of all times? The timing seems awfully suspicious.
Putting her hand to her abdomen, she sent her awareness into her body again. This time, she wasn’t distracted by the jet landing. She didn’t do just a cursory scan, but went deeper than she had before.
No life spark. Not even the tiniest, newest hint of a little spark.
Unwelcome tears filled her eyes. It was stupid to feel such disappointment. She needed to find some emotional ballast. They had barely started to try to get pregnant. Realistically, it could take them a very long time before they either got pregnant or eventually gave up.
And she was okay with that, except . . . why was she shaky and vomiting all of a sudden?
“I can’t get sick,” she muttered. “Not now of all times. This trip is too important.”
Let alone the question of what was making her sick. She didn’t get colds. She rarely, if ever, caught the flu, and anyway, flu season had barely started. It was far more likely for her to break a limb than to come down with some kind of illness.
Glancing at the sink had her stomach lurching again. Quickly, she turned on the water to rinse out the basin as footsteps sounded in the bedroom.
Eva called out, “I’ve got the dress.”
“Great,” she said, watching the water swirl away the last of the evidence.
“You sound so thrilled,” Eva told her dryly. Pia hadn’t had a chance to close the bathroom door, so Eva appeared in the open doorway. The other woman frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Straightening from the sink, Pia wiped her mouth as she replied, “What makes you think something is wrong?”
Eva’s dark gaze narrowed. “Because you look like shit.”
Eva was utterly devoted to her, and completely loyal, except, Pia knew, in one instance. If Eva thought something was wrong with Pia, she would tell Dragos in a heartbeat, despite what Pia might have to say about it.
And if Dragos thought for a second that something was wrong, he would overreact.
He would ditch the summit and fly her personally back to New York to a whole herd of Wyr doctors.
But despite what Dragos said about civil unrest, this summit was too important to ditch. People protested any number of things, yet this issue had infiltrated the U.S. government. Lawmakers were unsettled, and that meant the worst kind of trouble if they couldn’t repair relations.
Pia wasn’t exactly sure what the worst kind of trouble would mean. Her imagination wasn’t good enough to create something that seemed dire enough, but she did know the schism would be felt across the entire country and throughout the rest of the world.
What was a bout or two of vomiting in the face of something like that?
So she lied. Well, misdirected, at least.
“I was up all night having crazy monkey sex,” she said, turning away from Eva’s too-sharp gaze to go back into the bedroom and look for her purse. “Of course I look like shit. That’s why I’m going to slap ten pounds of makeup on my face after I take a shower.”
Eva shrugged. “Okay. Need anything else?”
“No thanks, you can go get ready now.” With Dragos so touchy at the moment, Eva was not just Pia’s main bodyguard but probably her only one for the week.
“See you downstairs.”
As Eva left, she pulled the door closed behind her, and Pia was finally alone. She located her purse, tucked on a table by a large vase filled with purple irises and yellow roses, and pulled out the jewelry box holding the diamond pendant.
She didn’t have time to be sick, but luckily she had something she could do about it for now. If she was still sick later, she would see a doctor next week when she got home.
As soon as she settled the necklace into place around her neck, she felt better, steadier. That’d do.
With a renewed sense of purpose, she turned back to the bathroom. Now it was time to get down to business.
By the time Dragos stepped into the bedroom, she had showered, dried her hair and rolled it up in hot curlers, and she sat at a vanity in a royal blue dressing gown as she applied the requisite ten pounds of makeup.
He walked over to her, hooked a finger into the neckline of the dressing gown and pulled it away so that he could kiss her naked shoulder. At the touch of his warm, firm mouth on her skin, a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine, and she leaned back against his thighs with a throaty murmur. She had to make a conscious effort to remember to hold on to her mascara wand as he cupped her breast.
“We don’t have time for that,” she told him.
“I know,” he murmured, massaging her through the thin silk. “I just couldn’t help touching you.” He grew still. Then his hand left her breast to touch the diamond pendant as his gold gaze met hers in the mirror.
“No, I’m not,” she told him in answer to the question he hadn’t asked. “I’m wearing it as a precaution. You know, just in case. I don’t want to throw up unexpectedly on anybody important this week. Besides, it’s pretty.”
His hard mouth pulled into a slow, sexy smile. He touched the diamond where it dangled just above the hollow of her breasts. “It is pretty, isn’t it? And it’s resting in one of my very favorite places in the world. I look forward to taking it off later this evening.”
She looked forward to taking it off later too, but for an entirely different reason. Hopefully by that point the strange bout of sickness would have passed and she would be back to normal.
Careful not to mess either her curling hair or her makeup, she turned her head to press a kiss against his forearm. His hand traveled up to caress the line of her neck. “What are you wearing this evening?”
“I decided to go ultrachic,” she said. “So I settled on the black sheath Dior.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. “I’d better shower and shave, and we’ll leave in a half an hour. Is that enough time for you to finish getting ready?”
“Absolutely. All I have to do is take the curlers out, pin up my hair and slip on the dress.” She turned her attention back to her reflection and picked up her lipstick. Around the O she made with her lips, she said, “Oh, and also do this.”
He murmured, “You look good enough to eat.”
“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You’ll mess everything up, and I don’t have time to pull this off again.”
Laughing, he stripped off his clothes. “Oh, I dare. I’ll just eat you later.”
Nude, he walked into the bathroom, and she had to pause to admire his powerful, lithe body. His sleek, heavy muscles rippled under dark bronze skin. In his human form or as a dragon, he was the most magnificent male she had ever laid eyes on.
She raised her voice. “I thought you should know. You make me so stinking happy. Especially when you walk around nude.”
His laughter sounded. “You make me pretty stinking happy too, lover.”
The sound of the shower started, and only then was she able to turn back to what she was doing.
She
triple-checked her makeup for any flaws. By the time she had shimmied into the floor length, strapless gown and slipped on her high heeled Pradas, Dragos’s electric travel shaver was buzzing in the bathroom. Quickly she pulled out the hot curlers and ran her fingers through her hair. Large shining curls tumbled around her bare shoulders.
The buzz of his razor stopped. She looked over her shoulder and found him frozen in the doorway. Except for a towel slung around his hips, he was still nude, and he stared at her with such naked hunger, it scorched her skin.
“I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ll leave my hair down tonight.” Tilting her head, she gave him a small smile. “Our half an hour is almost up. Shouldn’t you be hurrying?”
His sharp intake of breath was audible across the room. She laughed. Stepping back, he slammed the bathroom door.
When he stepped out again, five minutes later, he was fully dressed. Fastening the last of her diamond stud earrings into her ear, she turned away from the vanity mirror and lost the ability to breathe.
She could almost get used to the daily reality of how he impacted her—almost—until she saw him like this, his massive, powerful body clothed in a severe, elegant black tux. The formal clothes did nothing to make him appear domesticated. If anything, they highlighted his handsome, brutal features, jet-black hair and piercing gold eyes, while the pristine white shirt brought out the richness of his dark bronze skin.
His soft growl reached her from across the room. “Don’t look at me like that, or we really won’t get out the door this evening.”
She jerked away and scooped up her beaded black clutch. Like a gawky yearling with too much leg, she didn’t feel quite in control of all her limbs. “Right,” she muttered. “Out the door.”
Quiet masculine laughter ghosted through her head. He strode for the door and held it open for her. Somehow she managed to walk out of the bedroom.
They made it downstairs with three minutes to spare of the half hour Dragos had given her. Bayne and Eva were waiting for them in the front hall. Bayne wore a tux too, his evening clothes heightening his rugged good looks, while Eva wore a silk gray Chanel suit.