“Isn’t it?” Aisling asked, looking from my downcast face to Gabriel’s, which reflected his worry. She sighed. “I’m missing something obvious again, aren’t I?”
“Man, you are just asking for a one-liner, aren’t you?” Jim said, standing up and shaking.
“Come, kincsem, you must have your rest,” Drake said, gently heaving her to her feet. “I will take you home now.”
“You’re going to do some explaining, as well, like what exactly it is that has both of them so glum,” she said, allowing him to escort her to the door. She paused there for a minute, looking back at me. “Before I forget, your twin was here, but she had to go. Something about a dirty stream. Or was it a hot springs? Whichever, she sends her love and says she hopes you’re feeling better soon so you can help her clean.”
I couldn’t help but smile. That sounded just like Cyrene.
Aisling winked at Gabriel before turning back to me. “I may not be the savviest person on the face of the earth—one word, Jim, and it’s the Akasha for you!—but I know a good thing when I see it, and you two definitely have it. I hope whatever it is that’s troubling you can be easily overcome.”
I waited until the door was closed behind them before meeting Gabriel’s gaze. There was sympathy in his eyes, as well as warmer emotions, but there was also a tinge of pity that made me sick.
“Do not turn away from me,” he said as I made a move to get off the bed.
“Don’t,” I protested as he pulled me across the breadth of his chest, his warmth and scent sinking into me. “Tipene said you shouldn’t use your arm for another day just to make sure everything has healed properly.”
He smiled against my lips. “It would be worth a little pain to reassure you that no matter what you are, no matter what happens to us both, you will always be my mate, and I will always desire you.”
I gave in to the demands of my body and kissed him, my head spinning with the taste and feel of him. “I’m losing the battle, Gabriel. The dragon shard is just too strong.”
“My fierce little bird,” he said, stroking back a strand of hair from my face. “It is a battle, yes, but not one we will lose. We have one shard, Drake and Bastian will lend us theirs, and Chuan Ren has sworn to give us access to the Song phylactery. That leaves only one for us to find, and I have no doubt that the dragon we encountered has that. It just remains for us to put a few plans into place, and you will be able to bring the dragon heart together again.”
I let his calm confidence soothe my frayed nerves, resting my forehead against his as I smiled. “And what will we do if we can’t get that last shard?”
“Then we will both remain in dragon form, and I will make suggestive comments about your tail.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the twinkle in his eyes. The dragon shard, to my surprise, allowed me to enjoy the moment without demanding immediate mating. “You already do make suggestive comments.”
“Yes, but these will be very specific about what I want you to do,” he answered, his lips hot on mine. “Don’t worry about what we must face. You have fought the biggest battle of all, and won.”
“Escaping Abaddon, you mean?” I asked, my hands unable to keep from stroking the heavy muscles of his bare chest.
“No.” His tongue invaded my mouth, doing a fiery dance that was impossibly sweet and arousing at the same time. “You won the battle for my heart.”
I froze for a second, not sure if he was saying what I thought he was saying, but it was there in his face and eyes, and I just wanted to purr with joy despite the coming storm.
“I love you,” I told him, generating a little fire of my own.
“You see? How can our future not be a happy one when you love me as much as I love you,” he said, his hands starting to roam.
I was just considering whether or not I could keep the dragon shard’s presence minimalized so I could make incredibly hot, sweaty love to Gabriel when the door to his bedroom was thrown open with a vengeance that made me jump.
Magoth stood in the doorway, a gorgeous red shirt open nearly to the waist of his black leather pants. “I hope you’re happy!” he said, hands on his hips as he glared. “I just hope you’re both happy!”
“Magoth,” I said, astonished to see him. “What are you doing? This is Gabriel’s bedroom. Get out.”
He stepped into the room, waving someone in. Three bellboys staggered in with a vast array of expensive-looking luggage. Magoth stalked into the room until he stood glaring down at both of us. “You just had to tell Sally what you were up to, didn’t you? I told you not to, but did you listen to me? No, you did not, and the little backstabbing bitch ran straight to Bael with the details in an attempt to ingratiate herself, and what did he do but excommunicate me! Me, the sixth prince! I’ve been in Abaddon for more than a millennium, and poof! It’s all gone, thanks to you, former consort.”
“Former consort?” I asked.
The look of scorn he shot at me would have stopped a rhino in full charge. “You don’t think I’m going to keep a consort who has me kicked out of Abaddon, do you? I’m divorcing you, May.”
“But . . .” I looked at Gabriel. He appeared to be just as surprised by Magoth’s sudden appearance as I was. “But what are you doing here? With all this stuff?”
Magoth plopped himself down in a chair and put his feet up on one of the suitcases, smiling. The mirror behind him shattered. “I’m powerless in both worlds until the excommunication has been finalized. So until my powers are returned to me, sweet May, you’re back to being my servant.”
“If you’re no longer a demon lord,” Gabriel said, a little frown between his brows, “then May is no longer your consort or servant.”
“Consort, no. But servant . . .” Magoth’s smile turned truly appalling. I wanted to throw something at him. “She was bound to me, not to my position, so she is most definitely mine to command again. And she can start by getting me something cold to drink. Something tasty. Champagne will do nicely.”
I felt my jaw drop as the horrible realization sank into my brain. “You don’t mean—”
“That’s right,” he said, leaning back, his hands behind his head as he gave me a sultry look. “Until my powers are returned, I’m staying with you. Shall we discuss the sleeping arrangements? I like boy, girl, boy, for aesthetic reasons, but if you absolutely insist, I can take the middle spot.”
Gabriel and I exchanged identical horror-stricken looks.
“So much for a happy future,” I said, sighing as I slumped back against the headboard.
Coming in December 2008 from Signet:
Katie MacAlister returns to the world of
the Dark Ones with
Zen and the Art
of Vampires
Read on for a sneak peek!
Before I could mull over what I wanted to do next, a dark-haired woman plopped down in the chair across from me and shot a glare over her shoulder toward a very handsome blond man as he bumped her back while escorting two children wearing blue-and-white horns past us. “You look like I feel. Did you hear? The trip to the forest is off for tonight. And a good thing, too. I could do without being eaten alive by mosquitoes and God knows what other kind of insects there are around here. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Audrey? She disappeared right after she told me about the cancellation, and I didn’t have time to have a word with her about the serious lack of men on this tour.”
“Not since lunch, no,” I answered, digging out my disposable camera to snap a picture of the behorned kids as they waved flags madly. “I think she said something about checking on the accommodations in Amsterdam.”
Denise, the fifth woman on the tour, and my least favorite of all the members, curled a scornful lip at my answer. “Bah. We don’t go there for three days. Not that I won’t be glad to get out of this country. I’ve just been in the most appalling bookshop there on the square. Ugh. Nothing there printed in the last hundred years. And the spiders! Who’d have thought that Ice
land would have such big spiders? Positively tarantulas. Here, you! Diet Coke. Coca-Cola. You understand?” Denise grabbed a passing waitress and shook her arm. “Pia, you have a phrasebook—how do you say that I want a Diet Coke?”
The waitress gave her a long-suffering look. “I speak English. We do not have Coke. I will bring you a Pepsi.”
“Whatever, just so it’s cold.” Denise released the waitress and used my napkin to mop at the sweat that made her face sparkle in the bright afternoon sunshine. “Sorry I just sat down without asking you, but we big girls have to stick together. You weren’t waiting for anyone, were you?”
Sharp, washed-out hazel eyes peered at me from beneath overplucked eyebrows, a gloating glint indicating that an answer in the affirmative would surprise her greatly. I adopted a polite smile and shook my head, my teeth grinding at both her gloating expression and the big-girl comment.
“Didn’t think so,” she answered with sour pleasure. “Women like us never get the guys. It’s always the ones who put out who end up having all the fun. That Magda. Did you hear her last night? She was at it all night long. I asked Audrey to change my room, but she says the hotel is full and they can’t. Honestly, why on earth did I spend two grand on a single’s tour of romantic Europe if the only men on the trip are old, perverted, or gay, and I have to spend every friggin’ night listening to Magda get her jollies. Oh, Raymond! Harder! Harder, my stallion of love!” she all but yelled in an obscene parody of Magda’s Spanish-inflected voice.
“Shhh,” I cautioned, frowning at the startled looks we received from people seated around us. “Others can hear you.”
“So what?” She shrugged. “They can’t understand us, and even if they could, I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Have you ever seen such a motley collection of men as the ones on this tour? Audrey sure has some sort of a scam, and we’re the suckers who fell for it. Romantic Europe, my ass.”
I’d lived with Denise’s negativity and overall nastiness for three days now, and was sorely tempted to tell her just what I thought, but I reminded myself that we had another eighteen days together, and it wouldn’t actually kill me to turn the other cheek. Instead I indulged in a fantasy wherein she was left behind on a remote fjord.
“Have you dated much lately?” she asked, obviously sharpening her claws for another attack.
I smiled and threw in a couple of hungry wolves prowling along the edge of the fjord. “I live outside of Seattle in a small town in the mountains. There aren’t a lot of people there to begin with, so it’s kind of hard to meet guys. That’s why I decided to go on this tour, to open my horizons.”
“At least you’re not opening your legs for everything with a penis, like some people I could mention,” she said with another waspish look toward Magda. “I think we’ve been had, though. The men on the tour are useless, and as for these Icelanders . . . they may be descended from Vikings, like Audrey says, but I don’t see any of them panting over us. Mind you, if you said the words ‘green card’ to them, that would change things fast enough, but that’s not going to happen.”
“We’ve only had three days so far—” I started to object, but I was cut short when she slammed her glass down on the little table.
“You don’t get it, do you? Pia, look at yourself! You’re what, forty? Forty-five?”
“Thirty-nine. I won’t be forty for another ten months,” I said defensively, trying to keep a grip on my temper.
“Face it,” Denise said, grabbing my arm as she leaned forward across the table. “Women like us get the shaft our whole lives. You may think that there is a man out there for you, a Mr. Wonderful who will be everything you want, but there isn’t. Look around you, Pia. Look at who has all the handsome men—it’s the pretty ones, the skinny ones, the ones who don’t give a fuck about anything but getting what they want. They’ve got no morals and don’t care who knows it.”
“I don’t buy that,” I said, jerking my arm out of her grip. “I know a lot of nice women who get men. Sometimes it just takes a while; that’s all.”
“Let’s cut the crap, shall we, and get real. We’re the last pick on the volleyball team, Pia. We get the leftovers. I can tell you don’t like to admit it, so I’ll prove it to you.” She scooted around in her chair, waving a hand toward the stage. “That guy, that one there—the blond guy with the receding hairline. You think he’d like you? Or how about that one, the man with the beard. He looks like an accountant. Maybe he’d go for you.”
My lips tightened. I refused to tell her that she was perfectly welcome to live in her misanthropic world, but I preferred a much happier place.
“Oh! Those two! Those two across the square, coming out of that building. Oh, my God, they’re gorgeous. That’s what I’m talking about—perfect eye-candy specimens. Both tall, both dark haired, although I don’t like long hair on a man, and both absolutely and completely out of our reach.”
“Women don’t always go for a handsome, incredibly sexy man,” I pointed out. “And some men like more than a body. It’s perfectly within the bounds of reality to have one of those eye-candy men.”
A hard look settled on her face. “You just refuse to face reality, don’t you? Well, let’s put our money where our mouth is, OK? You go talk to those two hunks and see what happens.”
“I didn’t mean those two specifically,” I said quickly, my palms suddenly sweating at the thought of the humiliation that would follow should I even think of approaching the two men in question. “I just meant eye candy in general.”
She flicked the wadded up paper straw wrapper at me. “That’s a cop-out, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. How about this—you walk past the two guys, just walk past them, and see if one of them is interested enough to watch you.”
I opened my mouth to protest that catching a man’s eye wasn’t going to prove anything, but the triumphant gleam in her eyes was too much for the tenuous grasp I had on my temper. If nothing else, I would be able to escape her presence. “All right, you’re on. I’ll walk past them.”
“I’ll be here, waiting, when you come back. Alone,” she said with a smile that made my palm itch with the need to smack her.
The square was still partially empty as people took the opportunity offered by the band switch to refresh themselves at the cafés and food stands that lined the area. I paused a moment at the edge of the square, having no trouble in finding my quarry.
The two men continued to stand in the shadows cast by a tall, sculpted stone building, evidently having some sort of a conversation since one of them periodically nodded, while the other spoke, his hands gesturing quickly. They were both clad completely in black, one carrying a leather jacket, the other wearing one despite the heat of the day. The jacket wearer was farthest from me, his face too shadowed to see in detail, but I did notice he had short curly chestnut brown hair. The one turned slightly away from me, holding on to his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
I glanced back at Denise, hoping against hope that she might have given up on me and gone to see the fireworks, but doubting she’d miss the opportunity to do a little old-fashioned gloating when I failed at my goal.
“I hate being right,” I said under my breath. Denise stood at the table, the café nearly empty now as more and more people headed to the park. She made shooing gestures toward me.
I edged my way past a tiny clothing shop and pretended interest in racks of dusty books that sat outside an even dustier bookseller. This must be the spider-filled shop Denise had mentioned. I glanced toward her. She had her back to me as one of the men on the tour stopped to talk, gesturing in the direction of the park. Excellent! She was distracted! Now was my chance.
I ducked into the spider-filled bookshop, scurrying to the back, grabbing a couple of books to pretend interest. “She’s not likely to come looking in here for me if the spiders are as bad as she said. I’ll just hide out for a little bit. There’s no shame in hidi
ng. She’ll figure I skipped out, and go look elsewhere for me, right? Right.”
My relief lasted about two minutes, after which shame got the better of me. Being a coward wasn’t my style. A careful and covert survey of the square from inside the bookshop confirmed my thoughts. Denise was disappearing down a street opposite, clearly on the hunt for me. “Yay for insight into human nature.”
I paid for the books and strolled out of the bookshop, adopting a casual, not in the least bit stalkerlike air as I meandered toward the two men. “Maybe I could bribe them. Maybe I could offer them a few bucks if one of them would walk back to the hotel with me . . . ugh. Is this what it’s coming to? Bribing men to pretend an interest in you? For shame, Pia. For sha—oof!”
A woman whumped into me with enough force that it sent us both reeling, my books and her large bag falling to the ground.
“I am so sorry; I am very late for an appointment and wasn’t watching where I was going,” the woman said in a delightful French accent. “Did I step on you? No? Excellent. I am very distressed, you see. I’ve lost the address where I’m supposed to go, and none of the bookshops seem to be the right one. Ah, there is another one. I will try there.”
“Beware of spiders,” I warned as she tucked the books away in her bag. The smile she flashed me faded.
“Spiders?”
“Yeah, evidently some big hairy ones.”
She shuddered. “I detest spiders! Perhaps that shop is not the one . . .” She eyed it with obvious distaste.
“If you’re looking for a current book, they probably aren’t going to have it. There seemed to be mostly antique books.”
“Antique,” she said thoughtfully. “That does not sound correct. The Zenith was most specific it was an English book with the man and woman on the cover dancing . . . oh, la-la! The time!” She had glanced at her watch, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. “I will try another one; that does not look like a shop to have the dancing books, does it?”