Light My Fire
Page 11
Jim snorted in disbelief.
“It is not perfume or chemicals you have applied to yourself that I smell,” Fiat answered, finally giving in to my (polite) shoves. He sat in his chair for a moment, his fingers stroking his chin as he watched me. “It is something about you that has changed. Some . .. chemical change in your body.” Crystalline heat flared to life in his eyes. “Are you breeding?”
“What?” I squawked, in so loud a voice that several people looked over at us. Amelie smothered a much more quiet gasp.
Jim wasn’t anywhere near as subtle. “Now. Let me rip him to shreds now. Pretty please with sugar on top?”
Everyone ignored the demon.
“Are you breeding Drake’s child? Are you pregnant?”
It took me a few minutes to get myself under control. “You know, I think I’m just going to pass on answering that question. My personal life, my relationship with Drake—anything that doesn’t have a bearing on the peace between the dragons—is not going to be a topic I will discuss with you.”
Under the table, out of sight of Fiat, Jim leaned over and drooled on his expensive, shiny shoes.
“Hmm.” Fiat’s finger tapped on his chin as he continued to inspect me as if I might sprout a baby on board sign. “You are human. Drake is a wyvern ... no. You are correct. Any dragonkin you have will not have a bearing on the future. They will not become wyverns.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re seeing it my way, but I’ve got to say I don’t see Drake as an old man handing over control of the sept to anyone but a child of his—not that we’re having any, but as long as we’re being hypothetical, I think you’re wrong. He certainly would want one of our children to be wyvern after him.”
Fiat rose from his chair with swift elegance. “You have much to learn of our ways, cara. Your ignorance is almost as dazzling as the whiteness of your breasts.”
I looked down at my chest for a minute, making sure my boobs weren’t suddenly popping out of my sundress. They weren’t. I bit back yet another retort.
“Such rigid control you have over yourself,” Fiat said, shaking his head. “Not only is your mind perfectly blocked from mine, you will not even play that delightful teasing game we have so enjoyed in the past. I wonder how long it will last?”
I let that go, too. Words—in this instance—couldn’t hurt me. Fiat was right in that I had slipped my mental barriers into place the instant I saw him. He had a particular talent for mind reading, and I wanted to be sure that he knew my mind was definitely off limits.
“What about now?” Jim asked, glaring at Fiat. “Please? That boob comment was over the top.”
“No. Nice to see you again,” I said noncommittally to Fiat as he stepped back from the table. I struggled to summon up one last bit of polite banter. “Are you staying in Paris for a while?”
His fingers caressed the stem of the wineglass, his eyelids dropping until he gazed at me with a look so sultry, it set off the hairs on the back of my neck. “Drake has broken your spirit. I preferred you fiery and uncontrolled. I must see what I can do to restore you to your former state, breeding or not.”
“Now?” Jim asked, a plea in its voice.
I shot it a glance that told it to be quiet. “Fiat, you know well that if you laid one little finger on me, Drake would bring you down. So, much as I enjoy this bandying of wits, I’ll simply say good-bye. Au revoir.”
“Pah,” he said, a flicker of annoyance visible in his eyes for a moment before he stalked off to where his bodyguards were waiting.
I gave the three of them a polite, tight smile of recognition and turned back to Amelie with a sigh of relief. “Whew. That was hairier than I thought it would be. Breeding! Have you ever?”
“Fire hounds of Abaddon, Aisling! What’s with you? You let him get away without once siccing me on him!” You wouldn’t think a Newfie’s face could express many emotions, but the way Jim worked, it could have been on the stage. Outrage, frustration, and speculative malignancy each took a turn on its face.
“It’s called acting like an adult, and since when are you so hot and bothered to defend me to a dragon?”
Jim sniffed and turned away.
Amelie gave it an interested look. “What class of demon are you, Jim?”
The demon was silent.
“I’m sorry, Amelie; it has no manners tonight,” I told her, “Jim, I realize you don’t have to answer questions that anyone asks you other than me, but in the polite world, when someone asks you something, you answer. Please do so.”
“So, are you preggers?” Jim asked instead, looking up when the waitress brought it a hamburger on a pretty yellow plate. “That would explain a lot.”
I set down the glass of spicy, fire-inducing (often quite literally) beverage that only dragons and their mates could drink without dire consequences and laid my hands flat on the table, looking Jim firmly in the eye. “Not that this is anyone’s business, but no, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure?” Jim spat out a bit of pickle. “You haven’t gone psycho hormone woman and demanded gallons of chocolate ice cream in what... six weeks? That sounds pregnant to me.”
“Oh, for god’s sake ... one more word about this, and you’re off to Akasha until I get home.”
“I wonder what Drake is going to say when he finds out?” Jim asked between licks of the now-empty plate. “I bet he goes nuts—heyyyyy .. .”
I spoke the words that sent the demon into limbo so quickly, it had no time to do anything but look startled.
“Sorry, Amelie. Jim’s been a bit, well, off the last few weeks. It kept telling me its heart was broken, and we both know that demons don’t have hearts, but even so, I think it really was unhappy about not seeing Cecile. Looks like we’re going to have to set up regular visits to keep it happy.”
Amelie blinked at me a couple of times. I figured she was making all sorts of mental comments about Americans and their snarky demons.
“I do not believe I have ever met anyone like you,” she finally said.
“Is that good? It sounds like it could be a compliment, but knowing Jim, maybe you meant that in a less than sterling way.”
She just looked at me with mild brown eyes.
I sighed. “Gotcha. You mean that I’m weird. It’s OK. Ive pretty much come to grips with that. Moving on ... what did Fiat mean about one of my kids—not that I’m going to have one anytime soon, and I’m not sure that Drake and I are going to be able to work things out, but assuming that miracles can happen and we do, what was all that about one of our kids not being wyvern after Drake?”
“It is not perfume or chemicals you have applied to yourself that I smell,” Fiat answered, finally giving in to my (polite) shoves. He sat in his chair for a moment, his fingers stroking his chin as he watched me. “It is something about you that has changed. Some . .. chemical change in your body.” Crystalline heat flared to life in his eyes. “Are you breeding?”
“What?” I squawked, in so loud a voice that several people looked over at us. Amelie smothered a much more quiet gasp.
Jim wasn’t anywhere near as subtle. “Now. Let me rip him to shreds now. Pretty please with sugar on top?”
Everyone ignored the demon.
“Are you breeding Drake’s child? Are you pregnant?”
It took me a few minutes to get myself under control. “You know, I think I’m just going to pass on answering that question. My personal life, my relationship with Drake—anything that doesn’t have a bearing on the peace between the dragons—is not going to be a topic I will discuss with you.”
Under the table, out of sight of Fiat, Jim leaned over and drooled on his expensive, shiny shoes.
“Hmm.” Fiat’s finger tapped on his chin as he continued to inspect me as if I might sprout a baby on board sign. “You are human. Drake is a wyvern ... no. You are correct. Any dragonkin you have will not have a bearing on the future. They will not become wyverns.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re seeing it my way, but I’ve got to say I don’t see Drake as an old man handing over control of the sept to anyone but a child of his—not that we’re having any, but as long as we’re being hypothetical, I think you’re wrong. He certainly would want one of our children to be wyvern after him.”
Fiat rose from his chair with swift elegance. “You have much to learn of our ways, cara. Your ignorance is almost as dazzling as the whiteness of your breasts.”
I looked down at my chest for a minute, making sure my boobs weren’t suddenly popping out of my sundress. They weren’t. I bit back yet another retort.
“Such rigid control you have over yourself,” Fiat said, shaking his head. “Not only is your mind perfectly blocked from mine, you will not even play that delightful teasing game we have so enjoyed in the past. I wonder how long it will last?”
I let that go, too. Words—in this instance—couldn’t hurt me. Fiat was right in that I had slipped my mental barriers into place the instant I saw him. He had a particular talent for mind reading, and I wanted to be sure that he knew my mind was definitely off limits.
“What about now?” Jim asked, glaring at Fiat. “Please? That boob comment was over the top.”
“No. Nice to see you again,” I said noncommittally to Fiat as he stepped back from the table. I struggled to summon up one last bit of polite banter. “Are you staying in Paris for a while?”
His fingers caressed the stem of the wineglass, his eyelids dropping until he gazed at me with a look so sultry, it set off the hairs on the back of my neck. “Drake has broken your spirit. I preferred you fiery and uncontrolled. I must see what I can do to restore you to your former state, breeding or not.”
“Now?” Jim asked, a plea in its voice.
I shot it a glance that told it to be quiet. “Fiat, you know well that if you laid one little finger on me, Drake would bring you down. So, much as I enjoy this bandying of wits, I’ll simply say good-bye. Au revoir.”
“Pah,” he said, a flicker of annoyance visible in his eyes for a moment before he stalked off to where his bodyguards were waiting.
I gave the three of them a polite, tight smile of recognition and turned back to Amelie with a sigh of relief. “Whew. That was hairier than I thought it would be. Breeding! Have you ever?”
“Fire hounds of Abaddon, Aisling! What’s with you? You let him get away without once siccing me on him!” You wouldn’t think a Newfie’s face could express many emotions, but the way Jim worked, it could have been on the stage. Outrage, frustration, and speculative malignancy each took a turn on its face.
“It’s called acting like an adult, and since when are you so hot and bothered to defend me to a dragon?”
Jim sniffed and turned away.
Amelie gave it an interested look. “What class of demon are you, Jim?”
The demon was silent.
“I’m sorry, Amelie; it has no manners tonight,” I told her, “Jim, I realize you don’t have to answer questions that anyone asks you other than me, but in the polite world, when someone asks you something, you answer. Please do so.”
“So, are you preggers?” Jim asked instead, looking up when the waitress brought it a hamburger on a pretty yellow plate. “That would explain a lot.”
I set down the glass of spicy, fire-inducing (often quite literally) beverage that only dragons and their mates could drink without dire consequences and laid my hands flat on the table, looking Jim firmly in the eye. “Not that this is anyone’s business, but no, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure?” Jim spat out a bit of pickle. “You haven’t gone psycho hormone woman and demanded gallons of chocolate ice cream in what... six weeks? That sounds pregnant to me.”
“Oh, for god’s sake ... one more word about this, and you’re off to Akasha until I get home.”
“I wonder what Drake is going to say when he finds out?” Jim asked between licks of the now-empty plate. “I bet he goes nuts—heyyyyy .. .”
I spoke the words that sent the demon into limbo so quickly, it had no time to do anything but look startled.
“Sorry, Amelie. Jim’s been a bit, well, off the last few weeks. It kept telling me its heart was broken, and we both know that demons don’t have hearts, but even so, I think it really was unhappy about not seeing Cecile. Looks like we’re going to have to set up regular visits to keep it happy.”
Amelie blinked at me a couple of times. I figured she was making all sorts of mental comments about Americans and their snarky demons.
“I do not believe I have ever met anyone like you,” she finally said.
“Is that good? It sounds like it could be a compliment, but knowing Jim, maybe you meant that in a less than sterling way.”
She just looked at me with mild brown eyes.
I sighed. “Gotcha. You mean that I’m weird. It’s OK. Ive pretty much come to grips with that. Moving on ... what did Fiat mean about one of my kids—not that I’m going to have one anytime soon, and I’m not sure that Drake and I are going to be able to work things out, but assuming that miracles can happen and we do, what was all that about one of our kids not being wyvern after Drake?”
