“I’m sorry, that sounded rude, didn’t it? It wasn’t intended that way. Ysolde . . . you said you had memories of the past. You must remember that dragons are very dominant when it comes to claiming their mates physically. That goes double for wyverns,” May said.
“Oh, yes,” Aisling added with a little chuckle.
“Yes, but this is different. That was in the past. This is now, today, in the present,” I explained.
“Just the fact that you accepted him as a mate and he hasn’t . . . well! I think that says something,” Aisling added. “I think that says a lot of something.”
“Yes, it says he has restraint. Call me when you have the time and day for the sárkány,” I said, and hung up the phone, relieved it was over. “I just hope the rest of my plans go so well.”
Chapter Thirteen
Idly, I rubbed my cell phone and wondered if I���d put the cart before the horse. Baltic hadn’t denied that he had killed those blue dragons, and yet I had seen a moment of hurt in his eyes before he answered with a typical dragon nonanswer. “I couldn’t love someone who was a murderer,” I said aloud to the empty room. “I couldn’t.”
“What couldn’t you do?” Baltic asked from the doorway, causing me to jump.
“I’ll tell you if you answer two questions for me.”
His eyebrows rose as he strolled across the room to me, all coiled power and sexy hips. “Just two?”
“Yes. The first is whether you had any involvement with the deaths of the blue dragons.”
He paused for a second, giving me an unreadable look. “You have already asked me that question, and I have answered it.”
“No, you gave me a nonanswer.”
“What purpose would I have to kill blue dragons?”
I ground my teeth. “You know, this dragon thing of not answering a question outright is driving me nuts.”
“It shouldn’t. You are prone to the same trait.”
“I am not! I’m human! I don’t do that! Now please, just answer the question—did you have anything to do with those deaths?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped like a lead weight. I was so sure he would deny it. “You did? You killed those dragons?”
“No.”
He stood near to me, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his dragon fire come to life. “You just said you did!” I all but wailed.
“No, I said I had something to do with it. I did not kill them, but I knew that their deaths were possible.”
“I don’t understand.” I wanted to run screaming from the room and at the same time I wanted to wrap myself around him, reassuring myself that he wasn’t the monster everyone thought he was. “Who killed them?”
He said nothing.
I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. “Baltic, this is important. The weyr thinks you are responsible for the deaths of all those blue dragons. In fact . . . well, we’ll talk about that later. But right now, I really need to know—who did kill them?”
“I had forgotten how persistent you can be when you desire something,” he said with a sigh, placing his hand over mine. “I will tell you, but only because you are my mate and I trust you. Fiat Blu killed the dragons.”
“Fiat Blu? He’s part of that sept?”
“Yes. His sept was taken from him by his uncle.”
“Why would Fiat kill his own people? And why would you know about it?”
His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me into a gentle embrace. I let my fingers wander up the thick muscles of his arms, enjoying the solid feel of him, the tingle that seemed to come to life in the air around us whenever we touched. It was a sense of anticipation that left my body extremely aware of the differences between us.
“I have no quarrel with the blue dragons or Fiat. A few decades back, when I returned to life, he gave me shelter. Later, when he lost his sept to his uncle Bastian, he sought my aid in recovering control, but he disappeared a month ago. I do not know where he has gone to ground.”
“You didn’t try to stop him from killing innocent dragons?”
A flicker of pain crossed his face. “I did not think he would carry out his threat. He is unbalanced, mate, but I did not believe he would massacre members of his own sept. I was mistaken.”
“Those poor dragons.” I spent a moment sending up a silent prayer that they found a better life before something Baltic had said finally nudged my awareness. “Wait a second—a few decades back?”
“Why are you making that horrified face?” He frowned, puzzled.
“You said a few decades ago, when you were reborn.”
He made an annoyed gesture. “I died after you were killed, Ysolde. I’ve told you that.”
“But you were reborn right away, weren’t you?”
“No. Life was not returned to me until almost forty years ago.”
I stared at him in confusion. “But when was I reborn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dr. Kostich said my husband wasn’t mortal. If he’s not, and I was reborn right after I died . . . oh my god!”
“What?” Baltic asked as I reeled back from him.
I pointed a finger at him. “You’re younger than me!”
The look he gave me was almost comical. “What does age matter?”
“Oh, it matters if you’re three hundred years old and the man you’re dating is . . . what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“Great! On top of everything else, I’m a cradle robber.”
“We are immortal. In our past lives, I was six hundred years older than you. Therefore, I’m still three hundred years older.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said, disgruntled.
“You are making something of nothing,” he said, trying to pull me back into his embrace.
I held him at arm’s length. “Tell me this, then; why were we brought back?”
He said again, “I don’t know.”
“How were we resurrected?”
“Do I look like an encyclopedia of the resurrected? I tell you I do not know!”
“Who is responsible for bringing me back?”
He glared at me. “You are beginning to annoy me, woman.”
“They’re important questions! I would like some answers!”
“I do not know the answers!” After a moment’s silence, he slid me an odd look. “This man who married you—does he know about your past?”
“I thought so,” I said slowly. “He certainly has always known about the fugues. . . .”
“Then we will gain that information from him before we sever him from you,” Baltic said with decisiveness.
“How is it you were reborn?” I asked, still wondering how long I’d been alive.
“Thala arranged it.” He glanced away, something about his expression immediately catching my interest and setting my Baltic radar pinging.
“Who is Thala?”
His lips pursed slightly as he gazed out of the window. “A necromancer, of course.”
Necromancers, I remembered from some long distant store of knowledge, had the power to raise the dead as liches. “Glory of god! You’re a lich?”
“No, of course not. I am a dragon. You’ve seen that for yourself,” he said, still not meeting my eye.
The radar cranked up a notch. “Necromancers only raise liches.”
“When they raise humans, yes. But a dragon is different.”
“Oh.” That seemed to make a tiny bit of sense, and as I had little knowledge of the art of raising the dead, I didn’t dispute the statement. “Why would she raise you? Did you know her before you died?”
He tried to keep his head turned, ostensibly scanning the fields outside the house, but I moved around to block his view. His face was filled with something that looked like chagrin. “Yes, I knew her. Her mother was Antonia von Endres.”
“Ah, the daughter of your mage friend? I see.” A horrible thought struck me. “She’s not your
daughter, is she? This Thala person?”
He looked appalled. “Christos, I hope not. Not after we . . . er . . .”
My jaw sagged a little. “You slept with her, too?”
“No. Perhaps. Just five or six times,” he said, every word making me see red. He waved the thought away. “No, I could not be her father. Thala once mentioned that her father was a red dragon.”
“Where is this girlfriend of yours? Does she live here, too? Are you hiding her from me? If you think I’m going to share you, you’re madder than everyone says you are! I—”
“Your jealousy pleases me, chérie,” he said, smiling one of those arrogant, smug male smiles that men are prone to when they think women are gaga over them.
“Yeah? Then you’re going to love this,” I answered, making a fist and aiming it for his gut.
He caught my hand with a laugh. “You are making yourself angry over nothing. Thala lives here, yes, but she is not my lover. She was briefly, but as with her mother, that was before you were born.”
“Where is she now?” I asked, mollified enough to allow him to uncurl my fingers and kiss the tip of each one.
“Your silver dragon friends have her.”
My eyebrows shot up as he gently bit the pad on one of my fingers, heat flaring to life deep in hidden parts of me. “They do?”
“They captured her two months ago. I assume she is still alive, although I have not been able to locate where she is being held.” His gaze turned thoughtful as he released my hand. “You are in an ideal situation to do that.”
I tamped down on the spike of jealousy that rose at the suggestion. “Possibly. But—”
He stopped me with a raised hand as he turned toward the window. “Who is that? Who has made it past my security?”
The crunch of gravel being crushed beneath a car’s tires reached my ear.
“I have not authorized anyone to visit us,” he announced, and bolted for the front door.
I ran after him, worried that Jim had somehow summoned the police or some other form of help.
It wasn’t the police who emerged from the small rental car.
“Who the hell are you?” Baltic roared as he stormed down the stairs. A woman had emerged from the car, a slight woman with brown hair and pale green eyes. She flinched as Baltic leaped down the last three stairs and pinned her against the car. “You? How did you get in here?”
“Eek!” she cried, trying to squirm away. “Tully, help me!”
“Tully?” Baltic spun around and glared at me. “You know this woman?”
“Yes. She’s my sister-in-law, Ruth. Which means that must be my husband.”
“Husband!” he said, his eyes lighting with unholy pleasure.
Gareth slowly emerged from the car, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Baltic. Gareth in his best moments wasn’t a terribly attractive man—he stood about my height, had no hair on the top of his head, and possessed a somewhat weak chin and narrow eyes that made me think of a particularly obstinate ferret.
“Holy Mary, mother of god,” Gareth said now as Baltic rounded the car, clearly about to grab him. “You said silver dragons! You said you were with the silver dragons! You didn’t say it was Baltic!”
Baltic paused at his name on Gareth’s lips, squinting at him in the bright sunlight. A flicker of recognition glinted momentarily in Baltic’s eyes, causing me to stare at him in stunned surprise. “How do you know who he is?” I asked, gesturing toward Gareth.
Gareth backed up, his hands in the air as if to surrender or protect himself as he stared at Baltic. “Good god, she really did it. You’re alive again! Holy Mary!”
“You know my husband?” I asked Baltic, running past Ruth. She grabbed at my arm as I passed her, but I shook her off.
“Husband? He is not your husband!” Baltic snorted.
“Yes, he is. He’s Brom’s father.”
“I am Brom’s father! You yourself witnessed the oath between us!”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I said, rubbing my forehead again. “How do you know Gareth and Ruth? And how did you two know where to find us?”
“Attack him!” Ruth shrieked to Gareth, almost hopping with excitement. “Kill him, you fool! He’ll ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for!”
“I can’t kill a dragon,” Gareth said, bolting as Baltic started toward him again. Gareth grabbed my arms and held me like a shield before him. “I didn’t know she could do it! She’s tried for all those centuries, and I didn’t think she would ever do it! Holy Mary!”
“Will you stop saying that and tell me what’s going on?” I snapped, trying to get free of his grip.
“Release my mate,” Baltic said in a low growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. His eyes were burning with black fire, and I could sense, even from the few yards that separated us, that he was about to pounce.
“You can have her!” Gareth shrieked, and flung me at Baltic, making a dash for the car.
“Hey—oof. Ow!” I rubbed my nose where it connected with Baltic’s chin. “What on earth is going on?”
“He will tell you,” Baltic snarled, lunging for Gareth.
“No! There’s nothing to tell! I swear to you! Gark!”
Before I could so much as blink, Baltic was on the other side of the car, one hand clamped around Gareth’s throat as he held him a good two feet off the ground. “How did you find us?”
“Man . . . hired . . . save Tully . . .”
“Savian Bartholomew,” I growled, my fingers curling into fists. At a look from Baltic I explained, “He’s a thief taker and some sort of übertracker. Gareth sent him to rescue me from the silver dragons. No doubt Gareth hired him again to find me.”
Baltic snarled something obscene as his fingers tightened around Gareth’s throat. “You took my mate!”
“Stop that! You’re hurting him!” Ruth shoved me aside with a force that sent me reeling into Brom and Jim, who had raced outside at the sound of raised voices.
“Hoo. Maybe I’m not sorry you demon- napped me,” Jim said, watching with wide eyes as Ruth leaped on Baltic’s back.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Get off of him!”
“You got a video camera?” Jim asked Brom.
“No. Sullivan won’t let me get one.”
“Shame. I bet we could make enough money to choke a mummy with a video of your mom and that lady going at it.”
“No one is going at anything—” I started to say, but then Ruth started beating Baltic about the head, and fury rose within me. I threw myself over the hood of the car, grabbing Ruth around her waist and yanking her off Baltic.
She snarled something that had Brom looking shocked before lashing out at me with her legs, taking me down in a sort of scissor move.
“Tell her!” Baltic growled, shaking Gareth like he was a rag doll. “Tell her the truth!”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Gareth gasped, his face bright red as he struggled to get air into his windpipe.
Ruth punched me in the eye, snapping my head backwards, causing me to see little white stars for a moment. “Let go of him!” she yelled again, and abandoning me, threw herself onto Baltic’s arm.
“Oh man,” Jim said, strolling over to peer down at where I lay dazed. “That’s going to leave a shiner. Hey, I can see down your top. That’s a sun symbol on your boob, huh?”
Brom joined him. “Looks like it. Is that a tattoo?”
The twinkly white stars started to fade and I became aware of the fact that Jim had its nose about half an inch away from my left breast.
“Naw, it’s a dragon mark. Pretty. Kind of Celtic looking with all those swirly bits on the sun’s rays.”
“Ack!” I yelled, shoving the demon back.
“Hello! I am not a piece of furniture,” it said as I used it to get to my feet. “You grab my coat like that, you’re going to rumple my fur! Aw, man! You did rumple it! Now I’m going to need brushing.”
“Get off him, get off
him!” Ruth was chanting as she threw all her weight into Baltic’s arm in an attempt to break his grip on Gareth.
Baltic shot a look at her and set her hair on fire.
“Eeek!” She ran screaming away, slapping at her head.
“Fires of Abaddon! What I wouldn’t give for a camcorder! That scene alone would have made us the hit of YouTube!” Jim said, watching Ruth run in a circle, beating her head.
“Baltic, stop it!” I said, limping over to him, my left eye starting to swell. “I know you don’t like Gareth—at this point, I don’t like him, either—but that’s no reason to kill him. He’s got to stay alive so I can divorce him. A widowhood just wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.”
“You can’t divorce him because you’re not married to him,” Baltic snarled, giving Gareth another shake before releasing the hold on his neck.
Gareth crumpled to the ground, one hand clutching his neck, gasping for air.
“Why do you keep saying that?” I asked, gingerly touching my eye. I could barely see out of it.
Baltic strode over to Ruth, grabbing her by the back of her collar and frog-marching her over to me. “Tell her,” he demanded, giving Ruth a shove forward.
Ruth and I had never been the best of friends; indeed, she barely tolerated Brom’s and my presence, but the look she shot me now was pure loathing. “He’s not your husband. He’s mine.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Hoochiwawa,” Jim said, whistling. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Gareth’s married to Ruth?” Brom asked.
“You’re married to him? You’re not his sister?” I touched my head, wondering if I’d hit it harder than I imagined when Ruth knocked me to the ground. “Are you sure? Gareth just told me a few days ago we’d been married for ten years.”
She gave a choked little laugh as she squatted next to Gareth, who lay still struggling to breathe. “After five hundred years, I think I would know my own husband.”
“Five hundred . . . oh my god. Dr. Kostich was right. He is immortal. But . . . why did he marry me, too?”
“He had to, you stupid twit! He had no other choice but to marry you when you suddenly decided you wanted to marry a mortal.”
Beyond me, Baltic growled.
I kept my eyes fixed on Ruth. “I wanted to marry someone so Gareth married me instead? It was the gold, wasn’t it? That’s why he did it.”