Fire of Stars and Dragons (20 page)

“What did you say?”

Taking my hand, he runs his fingers along the back before kissing it, smiling. “I love your curiosity, Caitriona. Corrin favors the Irish language, so I simply used it to warn him of the lack of wisdom in coming near me at the moment if he enjoys his head attached to his body.” Smile turning tight and frustrated, he continues our conversation. “Despite every effort, he fails to maintain any measurable standard of principles to which he holds himself accountable. I have done everything possible within my power, as great as that may be, and cannot reform the boy. He has the blood of the gods within him yet cannot reasonably control himself to rule one Earthen Realm kingdom. As immensely as I value life, Caitriona, I have lost faith there is any value left in his, so I must ask you the most obvious of questions. What is it you see worth saving?”

*Theo*

She stands out in the crowd, in the room, on the dance floor, anywhere she goes, ocean blue in a sea of black-dressed women who are too afraid to be bold, not courageous like my Cait. The ruching of the satin fabric adds a simple yet eye-catching effect, fitting to perfection over her ample cleavage, hugging her form, narrowing at her waist, allowing for the luscious curve of her hips. Every move Cait makes, the skirt of her dress swishes, her slender leg peeking out from the high slit, nearly exposing the thigh my hand held in the shower, and in my own mind, I seared a handprint there for eternity, marking her. If it weren’t for that damned slit, the skirt would otherwise be an elegant ball gown, flowing as she waltzes, a multitude of pinches in the doubled satin giving a fuller appearance.

Cait is a devastating beauty, simple teardrop blue topaz earrings and necklace all the accessories she wears, needing nothing to prove herself. She is strong, confident, and elegant as she moves, head held high, hair swept up in a complicated braid, pinned with a delicate silver filigree rose, baring her slender neck, wisps of spring-coiled curls framing her face. No one would dare question her as rightfully fair-born.

“Oh, a tango, Theo. Should I remind you what a complete idiot you are, refusing to dance with her now?” Claaron continues pestering me, tone dry and all-too annoying. “Or perhaps I should wait until after you’ve suffered through watching her dance so sensually with Dante. Considering your activities this morning, what she’s wearing, and the way you can’t take your eyes off her, I’d imagine you find it quite arousing even to watch her do a boring waltz, a tango is… well, Theo, to be perfectly honest, it’s erotic, like fully clothed dance floor porn, completely acceptable in high society. I love it.”

“Why don’t you go guard her from the other side of the room?” I growl.

He laughs, taking a step away from me, ensuring he’s out of arm’s reach. “Cait’s closer here. There isn’t as good a vantage point from the other side.”

“Liar.”

“There certainly isn’t a vantage point that includes harassing you for being an utter imbecile.”

I take a deep, heaving sigh. “Keep this up, and I’m going to demote you to her housekeeping dragon, Claaron.”

Dante continues to carry on a conversation with Cait as they dance; however, it fails to hinder him from performing with any less skill as her dance partner, and she proves to be a painfully adept dancer, much to my dismay.

“Would I get to do her laundry? Play with all her sexy little underthings?” He punctuates his question with a ridiculous growling purr, and I think I may harm him. “I’m not sure that would be an insufferable demotion. In fact, it might be rather delightful.”

Closing my eyes for a moment and inhaling a tremendous breath, I reopen them, prepared to give my friend the what-for, coming up short when I find he’s disappeared. Looking around, I see he has indeed found a worthwhile vantage point across the room, grinning innocently with a small wave, which I ignore, returning my attention to Cait.

Watching Dante touch her where I have touched her, touch her where I desire to touch her again, I wish to leave the room… or gouge my eyes out… or storm onto the dance floor and toss him aside. I wish to take Cait into my arms, letting everyone see how naturally we move together, how we know each other’s bodies, how being near to one another feels right in every way.

But can I call myself a true worshipper of the Goddess, hold dear her principles, claim any reverence for her if I dare pursue my desire of Cait? I know the hypocrisy in expressing such beliefs and yet asking Cait to sacrifice her right to bear children for an eternity. The Goddess tests my faith, tests my honor, tests my nobility, wishes me to prove my worthiness of such a place as at Cait’s side, and I will not fail.

Their dance is not over soon enough for my taste, but eventually, they step away, not far from me, and the impudent king approaches. I move to intercept him, finding no need when Dante speaks to him first.

“I say you should not anger me further now, boy. Walk away before I remove your head.”

Not surprising me, Cait cannot prevent herself from questioning what he says, and their conversation continues on regarding Corrin.

“I just need to step out for a moment. Give me a few minutes,” I hear her say to Dante, and I am at the doors before she can leave.

“Allow me, milady.” Opening the door for her, she scowls at me. I know how much she hates to be called such things, and I enjoy teasing her. “Where are we going?” I begin stepping out with her, and she quickly turns on me.

“
We
are not going anywhere, smoke breath. You’re hauling your dragon ass back in there and leaving me alone for five minutes unless you’d like to see how fast I can cause a scene bigger than World War III,” she snaps, jabbing a freshly manicured fingernail in my chest.

I give this momentary consideration, and come to the conclusion that early twenty-first century Middle Eastern foreign affairs were far less complicated than Cait.

“Five minutes.”

*Cait*

Once the heavy door falls closed behind me, the noise of the ballroom trapped inside, I let out a frustrated scream, not caring if anyone else is in the hallway, though it looks deserted at first glance. The second the sound leaves my mouth, a tall dark figure appears around the corner, causing me to jump, startled by his unexpected presence.

“My sincerest apologies, milady. I did not intend to frighten you; however, considering the sound I heard from you, I felt I had good reason to believe you were in need of assistance.”

“I’m fine.” But my answer doesn’t satisfy him enough to walk away. Instead, he stands there appraising me. Despite their similar appearance in age, he’s so opposite of Theo with his stuffy suits and dictated protocols, but some things about him remind me of Uncle Thomas: his voice, certain mannerisms, definitely the expensive suits my uncle wore in life as a CEO. “Your accent. It’s just like my uncle’s.”

Sir Oliver nods. “Yes, I recall Sir Greyson was an Irish expatriate after his turning, became a citizen of the British Empire serving King George IV and Queen Victoria, and was knighted for his service under both crowns. Quite impressive, especially given his age. Young vampires are notoriously unstable.”

“Who knighted you?” I don’t really want to talk about vampires. I never thought of Uncle Thomas as one. He was more than a vampire to me.

“King Arthur. Why do you change the subject?”

“I didn’t. That’s what we were talking about.”

He stares me down, but it’s unnerving, unlike when Theo does it. There’s a look in his eyes saying he thinks I’m an insolent brat he wouldn’t mind teaching a lesson, and considering he protects the king, I’m not convinced he’s the most trustworthy dragon.

“The conversation led to vampires, and you returned to the previous topic.”

“My uncle always said if I had nothing nice to say, to not say anything at all, and I figured if the conversation was heading in that direction, likely I’d end up saying something to piss you off.” I’m upfront about my feelings on the subject, but take a small step back toward the ballroom doors.

Sir Oliver is between the doors and me in a heartbeat, causing two immediate revelations on my part. I do not care for supernatural speed. And I now trust him even less than I did seconds ago.

“Have no fear, Lady Hayden. I simply wish to speak with you.”

“Do you know generally, in movies and stuff, bad things follow statements like ‘have no fear,’ ‘I mean no harm,’ or ‘you can trust me’? Those aren’t exactly reassuring words right after you blocked my escape, you psycho dragon.”

“That was quite uncalled for and rather impertinent,” he states sternly, and I’m not at all surprised he uses the word ‘impertinent’.

“Hey, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em… a spade’s a spade, and whatever,” I blurt out in response. If he wants me dead, I’ll be dead before anyone can reach me, so it’s not as though anything I say will make a flying rat’s ass bit of difference.

“If you’re always this insufferable, I am unsure why Corrin feels so desperately drawn to you; however, he does. Given he does, you may well be the only hope I have of saving my ward.” I sigh and close my eyes before rolling them at him. “You have known him for such a short time, and do not know him the way I do, Lady Hayden. There is far more to Corrin than he shows to most people, a side only his family sees that is the reason they love him, and the reason they do not wish to lose him.”

This conversation is too reminiscent of Cedric’s visit earlier today, the plea of a father for his son’s life, and I imagine after the time this dragon has spent with Corrin as his ward, the vampire must feel like a son to him in some way. “I believe you are the key, and I beg of you, give him another chance, an honest chance. He will let you in. He wants to let you in. Lady Hayden, I believe you can break down the barriers, the walls he builds around himself, saving his life and saving him from himself before it’s too late for either.”

I’d be heartless to say I don’t feel pity for him, for the position he’s in, but I can’t tell him I can do this for him… or for anyone.

“It seems everyone asks me to do what might be the impossible, Sir Oliver. I’m not refusing, but I’m not agreeing to do it either. Just like I told Cedric, I don’t have unlimited patience.”

He nods and gestures to the doors. “May I escort you back inside? You should not remain outside the realm of your protectors for long.”

“I know. Big, bad dragons might eat me.”

He shakes his head, tilting it and appraising me with those marbled green eyes. “For an innocent such as you, there are no ‘big, bad dragons’. Never would any of us harm you. Those who rightly fear dragons deserve our justifiable wrath, milady.” He holds his arm out to me, the courtliest gesture possible, exactly what I’d expect from this debonair dragon. I wrap my arm around his, and he smiles pleasantly down at me. “Do not fear me, Lady Hayden.”

Wanting to reassure him I’ll try, I place my hand on his, and I am surprised by his reaction: a pained crying out, his head lolling forward, eyes scrunching closed, but instead of pulling away, he grasps my hand in his, refusing to let go, yet holding me as if my hand is made of glass. The proud, respected dragon turns, facing me, head bowed, unwilling to look at me, like an ashamed child, and drops on one knee, my hand clasped between his, resting his forehead against them.

I glance up and down the hallway to see if anyone else is witnessing this, hoping no one sees this insane display because there is no way I can pull well over six foot of broad, muscular human-form dragon to a standing position if he’s not willing. “What in Hades’s name are you doing?” Through clenched teeth, I demand an answer, about ready to kill him.

“Milady, I offer my deepest apologies for any harm I have allowed come to you.” His tone is soft, reverent, and it annoys me these dragons do this without explanation. “I beg of your forgiveness.”

Kicking him in the shin of his bent leg, I growl threats, furious. “Get up, you psycho freak dragon.” But pulling Sir Oliver up by his hand proves impossible. He neither flinches nor budges in the slightest. “What are you talking about? Why are you doing this? Are you simply insane?”

“Soon enough, you will understand everything, milady.” Gently, he kisses my hand, bowing his head again. “I hold mere hope you have the true depth of compassion believed in you, may find it within your heart to forgive me any errors in judgment you may see I have made in this matter, and that kindness will prevail in your consideration of me.”

The door flies open, Theo bursting into the hallway, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight. “Oliver.” He says this, as if speaking an entire one-sided conversation in a single word.

“Brother.”

Apparently, one-word conversations are common among dragons.

“Theo, he’s a lunatic. I mean, worse than you. Certifiable, crazy-train dragon.”

With a smirk, my dragon shakes his head. “No, Cait. Did you touch him unexpectedly, or did he somehow make accidental contact with you?” I nod, knowing he went ballistic when I touched his hand without his permission. “Oliver saw your destiny. He has a particular sensitivity to ward-touching and an over-developed tendency toward judgmental self-evaluation.”

“How do I get him off me?”

He shrugs. “Tell him he’s not the worst dragon in the world, unworthy to even fetch your groceries.”

I scowl. “You’re just mean. No wonder you call each other ‘brother.’ You act like immature siblings.” Turning back to Sir Oliver, I lean down to whisper in his ear, and he raises his head at the gesture, not quite meeting my eyes yet. “You remind me of my uncle, and I loved him dearly. I miss him and have no one else like him, Oliver. I couldn’t possibly
not
forgive you.” Placing a soft kiss on his cheek, I stand, waiting for his reaction, though he is the one who crossed the physical boundaries of propriety first.

His head rises, and beautiful green eyes, the same unusual coloration of Theo’s, meet mine. “Thank you, most gracious Lady Hayden. When my times comes, I swear to serve you with the utmost devout honor.”