“Holy cow,” Brom said, his eyes huge as he waved his hands around the spot where Baltic had stood. “I need to learn how to do that!”
“He’s gone,” I said, inexplicably feeling as if a part of me had just died.
“He’s run back into the beyond,” Kostya snarled as he wiped blood from his nose. “He is nothing but a base coward. He has escaped us by that means before because he knows only May can follow him.”
“Aargh!” I screamed, suddenly filled with the same fury that I knew must have possessed Baltic. I grabbed Kostya by the shirt and shoved him backwards, slamming him up against the car.
“Sullivan?” Brom asked, his voice full of wonder.
“Why did you do it?” I yelled at Kostya, grabbing his hair and banging his head into the car. “You were his friend! He trusted you! And you betrayed him just as all the others did!”
A wildcat landed on my back, biting and clawing and pulling at my own hair.
“Make her stop, make her stop!” Brom yelled, dancing around us as all three of us—Kostya and Cyrene and I—fell to the ground.
It took a moment for them to separate us—Cyrene refused to let go of me until May pried her hands out of my hair—but by the time they did, the strange sense of anger had passed, leaving me shaking and panting with the aftereffects.
Aisling handed me a tissue to mop up the blood from the scratches that Cyrene had left on my face. Brom leaned into me, wordlessly needing reassurance. I hugged him, resting my cheek on the top of his head, fighting the sobs that threatened to shake me apart.
“Well, we wanted some proof that she was Ysolde,” Aisling said as Cyrene cooed over Kostya while he gently felt the back of his head. “I guess you could say that was pretty definitive, huh?”
Chapter Nine
“Do I have to call you de Bouchier now?” Brom asked as I tucked the journal in which he kept his science experiment notes into his backpack.
“No, of course not.” I stood up, wanting to hug him again, but I’d already done that, and he had placed a firm “one hug per leave-taking” moratorium on me twenty minutes earlier.
“But that’s your name now, right? That guy who appeared used to be your husband before you married Gareth?”
I sighed. There wasn’t any way I could deny what life insisted on beating me over the head with. “Yes, I think he was.”
Brom leaned in close, his eyes on May and Gabriel as they held a brief confab with Maata and Tipene. “So why is everyone trying to hurt him?”
“It’s kind of a complicated story,” I whispered back. “But I’m going to do my best to stop them so that we can talk to Baltic.”
“Is he my stepdad now?”
“I . . . we’ll talk about that later.”
“What’s Gareth going to say when he finds out your first husband is still alive?”
I sighed again. “We’ll talk about that later, too.” I looked up to where Maata and Tipene approached. “I’m not really happy about this.”
“We won’t let anything happen to him,” Maata said, giving Brom a little punch in the arm. He grinned and punched her back. She pretended to flinch, which made him grin all that much harder.
“We were just reunited. I don’t like being separated again.”
“It is just a precaution, and will not be but for a day or two. Aisling and Drake will take very good care of Brom,” Gabriel said in a soothing voice that did nothing but make my jangled nerves more jumpy. “Drake takes his security very seriously now that his children have been born, and I would not be honest if I didn’t admit that your son will be safer with them than he would be here should Baltic attack.”
I waited until Brom and the two silver bodyguards left, waving with as cheerful a smile on my face as I could put there, but the second the car drove off, I turned on Gabriel. “Why do you persist in the belief that Baltic is going to attack your house?”
He took my arm and escorted me back inside, making sure the elaborate security system that monitored the doors was set. “He’s done it before. He blew up our previous house, and destroyed much of the entryway of Drake’s. You were there that day—that is how your head was injured.”
I touched a little scar in my hairline. I’d wondered how I’d come to get that.
“Now that he knows you are alive, he will put two and two together and arrive at the conclusion that we have taken you in for protection, and he will do everything in his power to steal you from us.”
“But that’s just the point,” I said tiredly, rubbing the headache that throbbed in my temples. “There’s no need for him to steal me, as you put it. I want to speak with him. No, I need to—I need to talk to him in order to clear up all the things I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think that would be terribly smart right now,” May said softly. “Baltic is . . . I hate the use the word ‘insane, ’ but he’s not mentally balanced, Ysolde. You don’t remember the things he’s done to the silver dragons, to his own people, but Gabriel was there two months ago when they discovered the corpses that Baltic had left when he cut a deadly swath through the blue dragon population.”
“No sane being, dragon or otherwise, could have done the things that were done to them,” Gabriel said grimly.
His normally bright gaze was dark with remembered pain.
I looked down at my fingers, unable to justify that I was bound to a man who was homicidal.
“You said he looked surprised to see you,” May said. “That means he didn’t know you were alive, so he’s probably frantic to find you now. And you can take it from us that an emotionally upset Baltic does not make for a pleasant companion.”
“All I know is that I must have some time to talk to him. I realize you want to capture him so he can face the charges that are now hanging over my head, but isn’t there some neutral ground where we can meet him and talk to him, find out if he really is deranged?”
They were silent for a minute before Gabriel finally said, “I will present that suggestion to the weyr.”
What he didn’t say was that it would do no good.
I nodded, still rubbing my temples.
“You are fatigued,” Gabriel said. “You should rest now. You may have a disturbed night if Baltic chooses to attack tonight.”
“Would you like me to send some supper up to you?” May asked.
“Actually, I’m famished. I’d love some food.”
“You go upstairs and get into bed, and I’ll have Renata whip something up for you.”
An hour later I was full of ginger chicken, fresh snow peas, and an intention that I prayed Gabriel and May would never find out. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, I slung my bag over my back, pressed a red button that blinked slowly in a tiny little panel set into the corner of the windowsill, and cautiously opened the window, bracing myself for a siren.
Silence greeted me. I sighed in relief that the switch deactivated the alarm on the window, and peered out. I was three stories up, with no convenient drainpipe, balcony, ivy stuck to the building, or ladder casually leaning against the side of the house. There was literally no way out but to jump to the ground.
“Talk about your leap of faith,” I muttered as I sat on the windowsill and swung both legs over the edge. “I just hope to heaven that this works or I’m immortal, because if I’m not, I’m going to be in very bad shape.”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and held out my hands as I whispered the light invocation, a spell used to temporarily guard mages from harm. A faint golden glow rippled up my body, skimming the surfaces, leaving me with a familiar tingly feeling that told me I was surrounded by arcane power. “So much for an interdiction, Dr. Kostich,” I said somewhat smugly, and jumped off the windowsill.
“Ow.” I spat out the bit of dried lawn and dirt and a very startled beetle. “Ow. Dear god in heaven, ow.”
The light spell didn’t work. That became apparent to me about half a second after I left the windowsill, and just before I hit the ground of the
tiny garden spreadeagled and facedown.
I touched my nose, wondering if I’d broken it. “Ow.” It wobbled back and forth just fine, so I gathered that it wasn’t shattered, as it felt. I sat up slowly, gingerly moving my arms and legs. Everything on me hurt, but nothing seemed to be more than bruised. Either the spell did work after all, or I was immortal.
“Wish I . . . ow . . . knew which it was,” I muttered to myself as I got painfully to my feet and limped off around the side of the house. By the time I took a few steps, I was moving a bit easier.
“Now to find Savian,” I said as I glanced up and down the street. There was little traffic at this time of night, just a few cars passing. As I started off toward a busy intersection where I hoped to find a taxi stand, a car passing me suddenly slammed on its brakes with a squeal of tires on wet pavement that was painful to the ears.
To my amazement, the car backed up, and a door to the backseat was flung open.
“Get in!” the man who emerged said.
I stared at him in amazement. “How did you—”
“Get in!” Baltic didn’t wait for me to comply; he simply picked me up and tossed me into the car, following me with a growl to the driver. Before I could pick myself off the floor, I was flung backwards when the car shot off like a rocket.
“Hey!” I struggled to sit upright, allowing the man next to me to pull me upward onto the seat. “That was totally uncalled-for! I am not a sack of potatoes you can just toss around!”
“Under no circumstances do I regard you as a sack of potatoes.”
“Good.” I gave him the meanest look I had. “If you intend on blowing up Gabriel’s house, you can just think again!”
To my surprise, a little smile flickered over his lips. “I see that the centuries have not diminished your desire to tell me what to do, mate.”
“I’m not your mate,” I said primly, untwisting the sweatshirt that had been whipped around my torso when he’d thrown me into the car. “I may have been in the past, but now my name is Tully, and I would appreciate it if you would call me that.”
“Your name is Ysolde de Bouchier, and you are my mate. Why have you sought refuge with the silver dragons?”
I glanced at the driver.
Baltic followed the path of my gaze, and said something in a language I didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Russian.”
“That was Zilant, not Russian,” he said.
“Well, I don’t speak that, either.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do. I taught it to you myself.”
“I’m happy to argue with you about this all night, but honestly, there are approximately a thousand questions I have for you, and we aren’t going to get to any of them if we spend all our time on whether or not I know a language.”
“I have a solution to that—don’t argue with me.”
“You are just as bossy as you used to be, do you know that?” I told him, poking him in the chest.
He grabbed both my arms and pulled me over until his nose was a fraction of an inch from mine. “And you are just as argumentative and lacking in respect as you used to be.”
We stared at each other for a minute. He narrowed his eyes. He sniffed the air. “Why do you not smell as you should?”
I pushed myself out of his grip, straightening my sweatshirt a second time. “Well, I am sorry I offend you, but you have no one but yourself to blame for that, Mr. Disappear into the Beyond. Rather than take a bath, I opted to go find Savian in order to force him to find you so I could talk to you, which, I would like to point out, I wouldn’t have had to do if you hadn’t disappeared like you did.”
“You might think it’s an afternoon’s frolic to face three wyverns bent on your destruction, but I have other ways I’d prefer to spend my time,” he said dryly.
I smiled to myself. I didn’t remember the Baltic from my dreams having a sense of humor. “All right, I will grant you the right to make a timely escape—they were unfairly ganging up on you. But that doesn’t give you the right to make insulting personal comments by telling me I stink.”
“I didn’t—for the love of the saints, mate! I did not say you stink!”
“You did, too! You said—”
“I said you do not smell as you should, and you do not.” He held up a hand when I was about to protest. “You do not smell like a dragon.”
“Oh. Well. That’s probably because I’m not—hey!”
Baltic lunged at me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “You smell . . . human.”
“I am human,” I said, my body suddenly coming to life in a way that almost stripped the breath from me. It was as if his touch electrified me, sending little zaps of pleasure down my skin. His hair brushed my cheek, and it was all I could do to keep from grabbing his head and kissing him until he was insensible.
“You are not. You are a dragon.”
“No, I’m human. My name is Tully, and I’m human now. I’ve only just decided to accept the fact that in the past I was a dragon named Ysolde, but now I’m human, and are you licking me?”
I couldn’t stand it. The feel of him against me, the scent of him, something almost indefinable, like the smell of a rain-washed sky, pushed me close to the edge of my control. When his tongue licked a flaming path along my collarbone, I knew I had to stop him. I heaved him away from me with all my strength.
He licked his lips, an indescribable look on his face. “You taste the same. How is it that you smell differently but you taste the same?”
“How do I know?” I said, shakily trying to regain my wits and keep from flinging myself on him. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you were dead and now you’re not. Where are we going, by the way?”
“I am stealing you from the silver wyvern,” he said with great satisfaction.
“You can hardly be said to be stealing me if I come with you of my own accord, not to mention escaping the house to go find you.”
“I would expect nothing less from my mate,” he said with that same satisfaction.
I sighed, probably for the fifteenth time that day. “I seem to be sighing a lot lately,” I commented.
“That is because you were pining for me. Why did you not tell me you were alive?” he demanded.
“Have you always been this arrogant and egotistical?” I asked, then continued quickly before he could answer. “No, don’t bother to tell me. The few visions I’ve had answer that question. I will tell you what I know, but I warn you that it’s just going to raise more questions than answers.”
It took the whole of the ride to a large house about an hour outside of London for me to tell Baltic what had happened since I woke up in Gabriel’s house.
“You knew I was alive but you did not seek me out immediately?” he asked as we stopped outside a gate, the driver punching in a security code.
“People mentioned you, yes, but most of the time, I figured I was nuts and made you up,” I answered, watching the driver in order to memorize the code, just in case I ever needed to make a fast escape.
“You are not insane.”
“No, I gather that, but if you woke up remembering hardly anything, and having the most vivid dreams of your life about a bossy man who threatened to kill you at one point, what would you think?”
I turned to him, a stab of pain piercing my heart at the pain visible in his eyes. “Oh, Baltic!” Without thinking I took his hand in mine, pressing it against my cheek. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I truly didn’t believe you were real until I saw you in the park, and then I knew I had to find you, to talk to you. You have to understand that it’s been very difficult to accept that what I was reliving weren’t just imaginings, but shadows of the past.”
His fingers curled around mine, and he leaned forward to kiss my fingers as we drove up a paved drive-way to a rather squat, blocky white Regency-era house covered with ivy on the front. “When I saw you this afternoon—I th
ought for a moment that I, too, had gone mad.”
I smiled and rubbed his knuckles against my cheek. “I had no idea you were real. You were watching the past?”
“Yes. I do sometimes. Usually, it’s too painful.”
Anguish appeared to rise within him at the memory, and once again, I was helpless against it. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him against the pain, wanting to bring only light to his darkness. “It saddened me, too, seeing them—us—so happy, knowing how things ended.”
“Nothing has ended,” he said, his mouth moving across my temple with gentle little kisses that almost left me weeping. “You are here now. Life has begun again.”
I turned my face into his neck, kissing his pulse point, but saying nothing.
The car stopped in front of the house, and I took a minute to gaze around before allowing Baltic to escort me inside. The grounds were pleasant, if a bit bare of anything but a tennis court and a hint of a swimming pool in the back.
Baltic led me inside, turning back for a moment to speak with the driver. I looked around, curious as to whether this home would be as soul-satisfying as the other. The entry hall was done in shades of white and egg cream, with white tile on the floor, an elegant staircase in white to the right, and a magnificent crystal chandelier. It was very pretty . . . and completely barren of warmth or soul or heart.
“Come,” Baltic said holding out his hand, having finished with the driver. I noticed that he, too, set the security alarms before escorting me to a room that opened onto the entryway.
I ignored his hand, needing a little distance to keep my mind—not to mention libido—under control. “So, this is—ack!”
He leaped on me, positively leaped on me, pulling me down onto the couch, his mouth hot on my skin.
“Baltic!” I shrieked, trying to push him off me.
“We will now mate,” he announced, just like that was the end of the story.
“Like hell we will!”
He kissed me then, kissed me with enough fire that my feet were burning by the time he was done.
“Whoa,” I said, gathering my wits together enough to push him back. “I can’t do this. You have to give me some time. Besides, there’s something I haven’t told you about—”