Fire Me Up
Page 42
Little flickers of flame teased my fingertips. I opened my eyes, expecting to see Drake kissing them, but he wasn't.
My fingernails were on fire.
I glared at him. "Now what?"
He tried to look innocent, but we both knew he wasn't. "It is a manifestation," he said, picking up my hand and sucking the tip of each finger to extinguish the flames.
"A manifestation?" I pulled my hand from his, not because I wanted him to stop sucking my fingers, but because my body started up its usual clamor to jump him. "Of what, exactly?"
"My fire. It sometimes happens in new mates. You will learn to control it in time, or so I am told."
"You haven't had a mate before, have you?" I asked, allowing him to pull me close to his side. He smelled good. He felt better. "Jim said that dragons mate for life. So that means you've never had a mate, right? You're new to all this, too?"
"I am familiar with the ways of the dragons," he said, handily avoiding answering my question. Drake was a master at that. "I know what passes between a wyvern and his mate."
"Uh-huh." I wasn't convinced, but I let it pass, "Aren't you going to ask me what the police said?"
"They requested an interview with you because your name was in the Guardian's appointment book. They asked you about your relationship with her. They inquired as to the last time you had seen her. And they confiscated your passport and informed you to not leave the country without first consulting with them."
I pushed myself away from his warm body to stare at him. "Don't tell me—you've suddenly developed Fiat's psychic abilities?"
He looked disgusted. "A green dragon is above the antics of such a lesser being."
"Mmm." I rubbed my forehead, almost too tired to think. "I'd just like to know what's going on. The detective I spoke with said preliminary reports showed Theodora also died in her sleep—a weak heart was said to be the cause. But that makes two Guardians dying just a couple of days apart, a situation that stretches the boundaries of coincidence. Any ideas about what could be happening here?"
Drake shrugged. "I have been consumed by our negotiations. I have not had time to play detective."
"Do you think there's something to play detective about?" I asked.
"I have no idea. It doesn't seem likely that two Guardians should die so quickly, but it seems less likely that their deaths were anything but natural."
I wasn't at all convinced, but since there was little I could do, I let it go and changed the subject. I curled up against him again, welcoming his heat as it sank into my flesh. "Fiat isn't to be trusted, Drake. I meant to tell you this earlier, but what with everything going on, I forgot. He's not at all committed to this peace accord you're trying to hammer out. He spoke to me a few days ago about some battle he's anticipating. It sounded like he meant a battle for supremacy over all the dragon septs." I turned my head and looked up at him. His gaze was steady, no real anger or even surprise visible in his eyes. "You're not concerned about this?"
One eyebrow slowly rose. "About Fiat? No. It is not he who concerns me."
"But he's clearly planning something underhanded, Drake. He's a baddie, in case you haven't noticed. He's going to throw a monkey wrench in the negotiations, if he hasn't already." I stopped for a moment, prodding my tired mind into thinking, "How did things go today, speaking of that?"
"We move forward—slowly."
"Oh. Good. But I'd be a lot happier if you took Fiat's threat a little more seriously. He's bad business, Drake."
"I appreciate your concern, kincsem. It is unnecessary, but it pleases me that you put the welfare of the sept before your own concerns."
I didn't say anything to that. It was just better if I didn't admit that for a good portion of the day I hadn't thought of the green dragons at all. I looked down at my fingernails. They looked perfectly normal, not at all like the sort of fingernails that might spontaneously burst into dragon fire. "What does kincsem mean?"
"'My treasure.'"
A warm spurt of pleasure mingled with a tiny dash of irritation. I looked up at Drake, admiring his manly profile for a moment or two. "Trust a dragon to use the word treasure as a love name."
He said nothing, just sat there, one arm around me, the other hand resting on his thigh. I looked at his hand. I looked at his thigh. My mind came up with a number of interesting scenarios for investigating the latter. I ignored them. "I want one for you."
"One what?"
"A love name. 'Drake' doesn't lend itself to nicknames. I want a seductive foreign word I can whisper in your ear to make you go wild with passion. What's 'dragon' in Hungarian?"
"'Dragon.'"
"Poop."
Drake's lips curled into a smile. "Do you wish for me to translate that, too?"
I dug my elbow into his side. "Pass. Give me a sexy Hungarian love name."
He thought for a moment. "Draga."
"Dragon' is too mundane." He went stiff at that. "I meant the word, not you guys. Besides, I already call you 'dragon.' I want something fun, Something mushy."
He relaxed, his arm tightening around me. "I did not say 'dragon,' I said draga.'"
"Oh! I know that word—it means 'darling'!" I glanced up at him. He was smiling. "What sort of a darling? I know that smirk, Drake. It means there's something you're not telling me. Does draga mean hot, sexy studmuffin darling? Manly fleshed, well-endowed darling? Darling man who makes me slobber great big puddles of drool whenever I see him?"
His lips brushed mine. "No, although you may certainly endow the word with those meanings if you desire. In this instance, draga also means expensive."
"Ha!" I laughed. "That's certainly applicable. OK, draga it is."
"For your use, dragam is the correct form of the word. It means 'my darling.'"
"Gotcha, Um. Drake?"
"Yes?"
"Do you suddenly not find me attractive?"
He turned to look at me at that his eyes wide with surprise. "What are you talking about?"
I bit my lip, wondering if the lack of sleep was making me wonky. "It's just that usually when you kiss me, I end up a big puddle of jellified Aisling. That last kiss was kind of... anticlimactic. I wondered if maybe that now we were officially mated and all if suddenly the zip had gone out of our relationship. Last night was fun, but the man who gave me that little peck is definitely not the same one who had my body erupting in flames. Literally."
My fingernails were on fire.
I glared at him. "Now what?"
He tried to look innocent, but we both knew he wasn't. "It is a manifestation," he said, picking up my hand and sucking the tip of each finger to extinguish the flames.
"A manifestation?" I pulled my hand from his, not because I wanted him to stop sucking my fingers, but because my body started up its usual clamor to jump him. "Of what, exactly?"
"My fire. It sometimes happens in new mates. You will learn to control it in time, or so I am told."
"You haven't had a mate before, have you?" I asked, allowing him to pull me close to his side. He smelled good. He felt better. "Jim said that dragons mate for life. So that means you've never had a mate, right? You're new to all this, too?"
"I am familiar with the ways of the dragons," he said, handily avoiding answering my question. Drake was a master at that. "I know what passes between a wyvern and his mate."
"Uh-huh." I wasn't convinced, but I let it pass, "Aren't you going to ask me what the police said?"
"They requested an interview with you because your name was in the Guardian's appointment book. They asked you about your relationship with her. They inquired as to the last time you had seen her. And they confiscated your passport and informed you to not leave the country without first consulting with them."
I pushed myself away from his warm body to stare at him. "Don't tell me—you've suddenly developed Fiat's psychic abilities?"
He looked disgusted. "A green dragon is above the antics of such a lesser being."
"Mmm." I rubbed my forehead, almost too tired to think. "I'd just like to know what's going on. The detective I spoke with said preliminary reports showed Theodora also died in her sleep—a weak heart was said to be the cause. But that makes two Guardians dying just a couple of days apart, a situation that stretches the boundaries of coincidence. Any ideas about what could be happening here?"
Drake shrugged. "I have been consumed by our negotiations. I have not had time to play detective."
"Do you think there's something to play detective about?" I asked.
"I have no idea. It doesn't seem likely that two Guardians should die so quickly, but it seems less likely that their deaths were anything but natural."
I wasn't at all convinced, but since there was little I could do, I let it go and changed the subject. I curled up against him again, welcoming his heat as it sank into my flesh. "Fiat isn't to be trusted, Drake. I meant to tell you this earlier, but what with everything going on, I forgot. He's not at all committed to this peace accord you're trying to hammer out. He spoke to me a few days ago about some battle he's anticipating. It sounded like he meant a battle for supremacy over all the dragon septs." I turned my head and looked up at him. His gaze was steady, no real anger or even surprise visible in his eyes. "You're not concerned about this?"
One eyebrow slowly rose. "About Fiat? No. It is not he who concerns me."
"But he's clearly planning something underhanded, Drake. He's a baddie, in case you haven't noticed. He's going to throw a monkey wrench in the negotiations, if he hasn't already." I stopped for a moment, prodding my tired mind into thinking, "How did things go today, speaking of that?"
"We move forward—slowly."
"Oh. Good. But I'd be a lot happier if you took Fiat's threat a little more seriously. He's bad business, Drake."
"I appreciate your concern, kincsem. It is unnecessary, but it pleases me that you put the welfare of the sept before your own concerns."
I didn't say anything to that. It was just better if I didn't admit that for a good portion of the day I hadn't thought of the green dragons at all. I looked down at my fingernails. They looked perfectly normal, not at all like the sort of fingernails that might spontaneously burst into dragon fire. "What does kincsem mean?"
"'My treasure.'"
A warm spurt of pleasure mingled with a tiny dash of irritation. I looked up at Drake, admiring his manly profile for a moment or two. "Trust a dragon to use the word treasure as a love name."
He said nothing, just sat there, one arm around me, the other hand resting on his thigh. I looked at his hand. I looked at his thigh. My mind came up with a number of interesting scenarios for investigating the latter. I ignored them. "I want one for you."
"One what?"
"A love name. 'Drake' doesn't lend itself to nicknames. I want a seductive foreign word I can whisper in your ear to make you go wild with passion. What's 'dragon' in Hungarian?"
"'Dragon.'"
"Poop."
Drake's lips curled into a smile. "Do you wish for me to translate that, too?"
I dug my elbow into his side. "Pass. Give me a sexy Hungarian love name."
He thought for a moment. "Draga."
"Dragon' is too mundane." He went stiff at that. "I meant the word, not you guys. Besides, I already call you 'dragon.' I want something fun, Something mushy."
He relaxed, his arm tightening around me. "I did not say 'dragon,' I said draga.'"
"Oh! I know that word—it means 'darling'!" I glanced up at him. He was smiling. "What sort of a darling? I know that smirk, Drake. It means there's something you're not telling me. Does draga mean hot, sexy studmuffin darling? Manly fleshed, well-endowed darling? Darling man who makes me slobber great big puddles of drool whenever I see him?"
His lips brushed mine. "No, although you may certainly endow the word with those meanings if you desire. In this instance, draga also means expensive."
"Ha!" I laughed. "That's certainly applicable. OK, draga it is."
"For your use, dragam is the correct form of the word. It means 'my darling.'"
"Gotcha, Um. Drake?"
"Yes?"
"Do you suddenly not find me attractive?"
He turned to look at me at that his eyes wide with surprise. "What are you talking about?"
I bit my lip, wondering if the lack of sleep was making me wonky. "It's just that usually when you kiss me, I end up a big puddle of jellified Aisling. That last kiss was kind of... anticlimactic. I wondered if maybe that now we were officially mated and all if suddenly the zip had gone out of our relationship. Last night was fun, but the man who gave me that little peck is definitely not the same one who had my body erupting in flames. Literally."
