Smitten (33 page)

Why did he still miss her?

Max inhaled a deep breath. Maybe the heartache would never heal, but with two cubs on the way, he couldn’t afford to live in the past. He had to move on and be strong for them.

Saul scowled at him when he entered. “You promised to take care of my mother. How is this taking care of her?”

“I made that promise at our wedding, which was technically after I did this to her,” Max cheerfully replied. “Where is she? I found a portal in our bedroom, but I don’t see Ēostre.”

“Looking at magazines in the next room with Chloe and deciding new, extraordinary ways to spend our money. You should know your wife has decided to donate two dollars of your money to charity for every dollar spent while preparing for the twins.”

“Excellent.”

“You have
no
idea how much Chloe can spend on a nursery. It was cute, initially, until boredom at the end of the lengthy pregnancy led to many unnecessary purchases. Her mind changed multiple times, often after the time granted for the return policies.”

Max grinned broadly. “You’re not nearly as aggravated as you let on.”

Saul grinned. “Of course not. But if I don’t pretend to be irritated, my bank accounts hemorrhage dollars by the thousands. It’s funny, too. She does it in rare spurts, and will go weeks without purchasing anything elaborate, only to wake up and decide one day the kitchen is outdated, or it’s time to engage in a bidding war in another country. When she isn’t pregnant, I can’t convince her to spend a dime.”

“You’re here!” Astrid rushed into the room and threw her arms around Max’s waist. She hugged him tight, and when he returned it, she giggled and turned her face up to look at him. “Can I take Spartacus outside with the zebras?”

“Certainly.”

“Awesome!” She held out her arm for the bird and waited while he stepped from Max’s forearm to her shoulder. Spartacus turned his head and immediately began running his beak through Astrid’s golden hair, grooming her in an affectionate manner. She giggled.

“You behave now, Spartacus.”

“He’s always good for me.”

“You behave, Max. Be a good boy,” Spartacus said to him.

Max frowned. “I’m not the bird. I’m your owner.”

“You’re his friend,” Astrid corrected him before flouncing away.

What the hell just happened there?
he wondered.

Saul waited until she was out the door before he released his pent-up laughter. “I wish you could see your own face right now, Max.”

“Bloody bird has a mind of his own.”

“You’d get bored with him otherwise. If it makes you feel any better, I thought the same about Felix for a time. Now we’re old friends, him and I.” Hearing his name, the old Savannah cat raised his head and glanced at them both. At the age of twenty-one, he still played frantically with his humans and devoted his days to stalking Saul and Chloe.

They joined their wives in the sitting room, and as was customary, accepted the fragile, tiny cups Chloe poured for them. They wouldn’t hear the end of it if they didn’t drink her tea, especially since her recent hobby had been to sell tea blends and soaps with her friends Marcy and River online.

“How goes the shopping?” Saul asked.

“I found the cutest bedroom sets,” Ēostre gushed. She turned the tablet in her lap so Max could see. “Look. Dragons. This lady hand stitches them and can do almost any color we’d like.”

Ēostre had decided early on to make most, if not all, of her purchases through smaller businesses. Max approved the idea and was more than happy to support local vendors. He leaned over for a look and smiled at the pictures on the screen.

“I think those would be perfect for our twins.”

“You waste no time, do you, Belenos?” Fafnir’s sneering voice came from a shadowed corner of the room. “I never took you for a thief, and yet you have plundered my every possession.” He approached them, his yellow eyes bloodshot within an ashen face.

Max grunted, able to suppress the urge to lash out by only a slim margin. He rose to his feet and stood his ground. “Ēostre isn’t a possession.”

“She whelps incompetent, spineless spawn, and yours will be no different. They will be baying pups forever attached to her teat, unable to thrive on their own.”

Saul stiffened in his seat.

“You have an amazing son, Fafnir, and you would realize as much if you gave his chosen mate a chance. If you gave
him
a chance, but no, you wasted your years with Ēostre and spent them running away from your family. You brought this on yourself,” Maximilian seethed back at his former friend.

Fafnir hissed and took three charging steps forward until Saul leapt between them with his back to Maximilian. “Don’t presume to know my thoughts. I loved my family!”

“Fafnir—”

The furious dragon snapped his eyes to Ēostre. “You have no right to speak to me when you stink of his bastard whelps. I can smell them festering inside you.”

“Father, enough.”

“And you.” He glared at his son. “My Brigid was too good for you. I see that now. A thousand curses upon you for bringing her death.”

“How dare you!” Ēostre leapt to her feet, fury making her entire body quake.

“How dare I? How dare you!” Fafnir roared back.

“Saul is your own flesh and blood, and you won’t speak to him this way for as long as I draw breath.”

“The perhaps it is time your breath ceased and spared us all the shame of your presence. A whore to dragons and humans alike.”

A partial transformation overtook Fafnir, his claws elongating and clothing stretched to the seams. He lunged toward Ēostre but Max was there to block his path, a snarl on his lips as he pushed away the man who had once been his closest friend.

Chloe drew Ascalon and pointed the razor-edged blade at Fafnir. He recoiled from its radiance and stepped back to give them a wide berth.

“To oblivion with all of you.”

They quieted as Fafnir stormed from the room, radiating blistering heat with each step. His borrowed clothing went up in flames, thankfully causing no damage to the stone floors or walls, but tiny pieces of burning threads and ash were left in his wake. Ēostre trembled on the couch until Chloe drew her into a tight embrace.

“I’m going to kick him out now. We can’t continue to suffer barbs and taunts from him.”

“Saul, no.” Max frowned, staring out the door Fafnir had disappeared through. “He is too dangerous to loose on the world. We must keep an eye on him until Watatsumi returns.”

“What did he mean by ‘my Brigid’ anyway?” Chloe asked.

“Who knows, love? He’s not in his right mind.”

“All the more reason to allow him to stay,” Chloe murmured, meeting Max’s gaze. “You’re right, he
isn’t
in his right mind, and we’ll never forgive ourselves if we send him into the world. He’s gotta stay here where we can keep an eye on him.”

“Are you certain, Chloe?” Ēostre asked in a tremulous voice.

“Positive.”

Saul sighed heavily. “In that case, I believe Leiv and Mahasti deserve a long overdue vacation. We can send them and the girls to Teo’s island, or wherever they like for that matter.”

“Thor would be glad to host them at his home and I know he’s spoken many times with Leiv about a hunting trip,” Ēostre suggested. “They’ll have a good time and it’ll get everyone away from the stress of babysitting Fafnir.”

“To be honest, I would feel better if you both went with them.” Saul looked from his wife to his mother.

“Nope, I live here.”

Saul released a long sigh. “I figured as much, but I had to suggest it.”

“And I love you for it, but your mother and I won’t leave you guys here to handle this alone.”

“Correct,” Ēostre said. She swallowed and raised her eyes to Max.

Max and Saul exchanged glances, but they both knew it was useless to argue with the women they loved.

Chapter 24

Watatsumi opened another book and breathed in the smell of ancient paper and old leather. He’d known from the start that the books wouldn’t have the answer to their problem with Fafnir, but he’d hoped something in their rich history would jog his memory.

Could a dragon come back from the dead? Was it possible Belenos and Ēostre were wrong? In their grief, they could have mistaken a grievously injured dragon for dead.

No,
he thought. If such was the case, why wasn’t the soul bond between Fafnir and his mate intact? Why had it taken him more than a century to recover?

Most importantly of all, why did he feel the most sinister, dark intentions from the dragon who was once one of his closest friends? Watatsumi shivered, unable to forget the animosity sweltering from Fafnir whenever their mutual friend was near Bel. A century ago, he would have been hard pressed to name two dragons closer than Fafnir and Belenos, and while he’d like to blame Ēostre’s new bonding for the change, he knew the hatred ran deeper. It festered in Fafnir, a disease of the soul, and Watatsumi’s sensitive talent for empathetic magic made it difficult to bear. He couldn’t talk to his old friend for longer than five minutes without nausea rising in his stomach.

A tiny rap at the door brought Watatsumi’s attention to one of the servants.

“May I enter?”

“You need not ask permission, Nagisa. We have discussed this.”

“Perhaps, but it’s polite to ask,” the doe shifter replied. She stood in the doorway watching him with kind brown eyes. She, like all of his servants, preferred tradition over modern ways, and wore an exquisite blue kimono with silver thread woven into a water print. “This arrived for you, but it bears no name.”

“No name?” He abandoned his seat and crossed the room to meet her halfway. Bowing deeply, she presented the dragon with a neatly wrapped package addressed from the United States.

“No. Only that. It’s a store in America.”

Watatsumi glanced at her.

“I may have Googled it briefly before bringing it up to you,” the girl said with an impish smile.

Nestled inside of the packaging and bubble wrap, he found a beautifully painted volcanic dragon with curving horns and enormous black claws. His brows raised at the resemblance to a certain, recently awakened wyrm.

“Why would an antique store mail you a ceramic dragon? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, but it requires investigation.” Watatsumi glanced at the package again, then his brows knit together. “I know this address.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Strange that it isn’t postmarked.”

“It wasn’t delivered by the mail service, actually. A villager brought it to us. He said a strange man in a hooded cloak delivered it to him at dawn.”

“I see.” He turned the dragon over in his hands again, inspected it for latent spells or charms, and upon finding nothing, returned it to Nagisa. “You may keep this.”

The girl chuckled and clutched the gift against the plush, pale silver obi encircling her torso. “It’s lovely, but you know I prefer blue,” Nagisa said with a wink. She kissed his cheek and slipped from the room, only to squeal in the doorway when the paint bled away to navy and cerulean colors. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Watatsumi stepped through the air, leaving the office behind to appear on an open sidewalk. Fortunately, the abrupt change in time zone took him from a sunlit morning to a Boston night. Except rather than darkness, he discovered a blazing inferno and a busy street occupied by emergency service workers.

“This will not do,” he said to himself. “This will not do at all.”

The uncontrolled fire raged, fierce flames climbing toward the night sky. He slipped through the gathered spectators and beyond the police line.

“Sir, please, we need you to stand back,” an officer called over.

“Allow me to help,” Watatsumi said politely.

Before the firefighters could protest, he made a sweeping gesture with his left arm to cast them all aside. With the humans clear of the danger, Watatsumi transformed — his kimono vanishing in the instant his human body expanded to monstrous proportions. Azure feathers dappled with green and white elongated from his powerful wings as he stretched them out. His tail curled into the busy street, thankfully causing no one harm.

Several screams sounded from the rubberneckers and a few of the officers pulled their guns. Phones flashed as people caught him on their cameras.

A single shot rang out and plinked into his hide. Watatsumi sighed, twisted around to face them, and rumbled, “Not now, children.” With a single spell, their guns vanished and they were left empty-handed. It was only a temporary displacement spell, and the firearms would appear where they belonged within minutes.

“Holy shit!”

“Did you see that? He used magic.”

“The bullet didn’t even phase him!”

Ignoring the crowd, the dragon turned back to the burning building. Three fire engines tried to douse the flames enveloping the antique store, but they were making little progress. The stench of magic permeated the air and tinged the fire a crimson red.