You Slay Me
Page 15
Just as I knew I was literally going to burst into flames, something miraculous happened. A door within my mind opened, a doorI didn't know was there, one tucked away in the dark recesses of my consciousness. The door opened, and suddenly I had leashed the fire, controlled it, changed it from a destructive element that was meant to consume me into something that added fuel to the desire that flared between us. I turned the fire back on Drake and began to kiss him in return, reveling in the power that was flowing through me as if I were a conduit. He jerked but didn't stop the torturously wonderful touch of his mouth.
Everyone was still watching us, I knew, but that didn't stop me from leaning into Drake and rubbing my hips against him, fitting all my soft curves to the hard planes of his body. I wanted him, all of him, his fire and his body and his soul, right then and there, and I hate to imagine what would have happened if Drake hadn't had the strength of purpose to pull back from me. Unable to look away—let alonethink —I stared into his eyes, seeing the flickers of our shared fire in their emerald depths mingled with something that looked very much like surprise, sur-prise that quickly changed into speculation. Slowly, atom by
atom, the fire he'd started within me dropped down to a simmer.
"I believe that round goes to you," he said softly, his voice thrumming through me, threatening to stir the newly banked embers.
I untangled my fingers from his hair and took a step backwards, extremely aware of the voyeurism that I had paid no mind a moment ago. "Yeah, well, maybe you'll think twice about messing with me again," I said with bravado I didn't feel, gritting my teeth over the shakiness of my voice.
The man Ophelia had named the Venediger appeared at my elbow. I turned to face him, grateful to have some-one else to concentrate on. He didn't look at all the tyrant sort, as the sisters claimed, nor particularly powerful. Self-assured and confident, yes, but a tyrant? Hardly.
"Drake, you will do me the honor of introducing me to your companion."
It wasn't a question; it was a command. And with it a wave of his power washed over me, making me gasp for air. Maybetyrant wasn't such a bad description after all. As I caught my breath, I couldn't help but notice that with his words, life in the G & T returned to normal. The music resumed. People started talking again. Waitresses floated through the crowd with trays of drinks and food. The wave of people swelled around us again, leaving us an island of three.
"Aisling Grey, may I present Albert Camus, better known to the immortal community as the Venediger. Ais-ling is newly arrived in Paris."
The Venediger made an odd sort of formal bow over the hand I reluctantly held out. "I bid you welcome. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you, Aisling. It is not often my humble premises are graced by a wyvern's mate, espe-cially not one who is also a Guardian."
"Do I have a great bigG painted on my forehead or something?" I asked, rather peevishly, true, but I really had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. "I don't even know what a Guardian does, let alone why you people think I'm one, but this I do know—I am not anyone's mate,especially not Drake's, so you can just get that idea right out of your head."
"You withstood the dragon's kiss," the Venediger said mildly, but as his pale gray eyes settled on me, I squirmed uncomfortably. An aura of power surrounded him, a leashed power not unlike what I felt with Drake, only the Venediger's was …harsher. Less refined. Cruder and much, much more scary. "Only a mate could do that. It is clear to everyone what you are."
"I'm glad someone thinks they know what's going on, because I sure don't," I grumbled.
He made another little bow. "As I said, you are wel-come at Goety and Theurgy. I am in your debt for pro-viding my patrons with such an entertaining show. It has been a very long time since we've had the opportunity of seeing a wyvern claim his mate."
I blushed at his reference to our little smoochy session, but didn't have time to set him straight before he moved off.
"I amso not claimed. I'm not a mate, either," I called after him. He ignored me. I turned back to Drake, dread-ing the look of mocking assuredness that I knew I would see in his eyes. A man like him—one who knows he's drop-dead sexy—couldn't help but gloat over the fact that he had really rattled my chain.
I gritted my teeth and raised my eyes to his, but he was looking at me with a puzzled expression that was 100
percent gloat-free. His brows pulled together in a little frown. "You are telling the truth. You truly do not under-stand who you are."
"On the contrary, I know exactly who I am. It's you guys who seem to be confused. In case you need it spelled out to you, I'm a robbery victim. I am also a mur-der suspect, thanks to you. Since you are responsible for both situations, you're going to fix things, starting with returning my dragon."
He turned toward the bar and signaled the bartender. "What will you have to drink?"
"Dragon's blood," I snapped vindictively.
He tipped his head as he considered me, his slow smile turning my legs to mush. "Really? Guy, two Dragon's Bloods."
I stared open-mouthed as the bartender returned with two wine glasses filled with a liquid so dark red, it was almost black. "You're kidding, right? That's not really … er… blood?"
"No. It's a beverage favored by my kind, however."
I sniffed at the glass. It didn't smell like anything other than spiced wine. I took a small sip, gasping as liquid flames burned down my throat, quickly warming my stomach, the heat from the wine flowing out through my veins to every point in my body. "Holy cow," I croaked, blinking back the tears that formed. "That's potent. What's in it?"
"You don't want to know," he said, grasping my elbow and steering me to an empty table in a dark corner. "Now, perhaps we can discuss what you desire of me."
I sat, aware of a distinct sense of loss when he re-moved his hand from my arm. To distract myself from the unwanted temptation he posed, I lifted my glass again, this time just dipping the tip of my tongue into the liquid.
"Oh, great, now my tongue's gone numb. If I find out this has something harmful in it, you're going to be history."
He grinned. "Nothing harmful."
I relaxed and took another sip, braced for the roar of fire that flooded my body.
Everyone was still watching us, I knew, but that didn't stop me from leaning into Drake and rubbing my hips against him, fitting all my soft curves to the hard planes of his body. I wanted him, all of him, his fire and his body and his soul, right then and there, and I hate to imagine what would have happened if Drake hadn't had the strength of purpose to pull back from me. Unable to look away—let alonethink —I stared into his eyes, seeing the flickers of our shared fire in their emerald depths mingled with something that looked very much like surprise, sur-prise that quickly changed into speculation. Slowly, atom by
atom, the fire he'd started within me dropped down to a simmer.
"I believe that round goes to you," he said softly, his voice thrumming through me, threatening to stir the newly banked embers.
I untangled my fingers from his hair and took a step backwards, extremely aware of the voyeurism that I had paid no mind a moment ago. "Yeah, well, maybe you'll think twice about messing with me again," I said with bravado I didn't feel, gritting my teeth over the shakiness of my voice.
The man Ophelia had named the Venediger appeared at my elbow. I turned to face him, grateful to have some-one else to concentrate on. He didn't look at all the tyrant sort, as the sisters claimed, nor particularly powerful. Self-assured and confident, yes, but a tyrant? Hardly.
"Drake, you will do me the honor of introducing me to your companion."
It wasn't a question; it was a command. And with it a wave of his power washed over me, making me gasp for air. Maybetyrant wasn't such a bad description after all. As I caught my breath, I couldn't help but notice that with his words, life in the G & T returned to normal. The music resumed. People started talking again. Waitresses floated through the crowd with trays of drinks and food. The wave of people swelled around us again, leaving us an island of three.
"Aisling Grey, may I present Albert Camus, better known to the immortal community as the Venediger. Ais-ling is newly arrived in Paris."
The Venediger made an odd sort of formal bow over the hand I reluctantly held out. "I bid you welcome. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you, Aisling. It is not often my humble premises are graced by a wyvern's mate, espe-cially not one who is also a Guardian."
"Do I have a great bigG painted on my forehead or something?" I asked, rather peevishly, true, but I really had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. "I don't even know what a Guardian does, let alone why you people think I'm one, but this I do know—I am not anyone's mate,especially not Drake's, so you can just get that idea right out of your head."
"You withstood the dragon's kiss," the Venediger said mildly, but as his pale gray eyes settled on me, I squirmed uncomfortably. An aura of power surrounded him, a leashed power not unlike what I felt with Drake, only the Venediger's was …harsher. Less refined. Cruder and much, much more scary. "Only a mate could do that. It is clear to everyone what you are."
"I'm glad someone thinks they know what's going on, because I sure don't," I grumbled.
He made another little bow. "As I said, you are wel-come at Goety and Theurgy. I am in your debt for pro-viding my patrons with such an entertaining show. It has been a very long time since we've had the opportunity of seeing a wyvern claim his mate."
I blushed at his reference to our little smoochy session, but didn't have time to set him straight before he moved off.
"I amso not claimed. I'm not a mate, either," I called after him. He ignored me. I turned back to Drake, dread-ing the look of mocking assuredness that I knew I would see in his eyes. A man like him—one who knows he's drop-dead sexy—couldn't help but gloat over the fact that he had really rattled my chain.
I gritted my teeth and raised my eyes to his, but he was looking at me with a puzzled expression that was 100
percent gloat-free. His brows pulled together in a little frown. "You are telling the truth. You truly do not under-stand who you are."
"On the contrary, I know exactly who I am. It's you guys who seem to be confused. In case you need it spelled out to you, I'm a robbery victim. I am also a mur-der suspect, thanks to you. Since you are responsible for both situations, you're going to fix things, starting with returning my dragon."
He turned toward the bar and signaled the bartender. "What will you have to drink?"
"Dragon's blood," I snapped vindictively.
He tipped his head as he considered me, his slow smile turning my legs to mush. "Really? Guy, two Dragon's Bloods."
I stared open-mouthed as the bartender returned with two wine glasses filled with a liquid so dark red, it was almost black. "You're kidding, right? That's not really … er… blood?"
"No. It's a beverage favored by my kind, however."
I sniffed at the glass. It didn't smell like anything other than spiced wine. I took a small sip, gasping as liquid flames burned down my throat, quickly warming my stomach, the heat from the wine flowing out through my veins to every point in my body. "Holy cow," I croaked, blinking back the tears that formed. "That's potent. What's in it?"
"You don't want to know," he said, grasping my elbow and steering me to an empty table in a dark corner. "Now, perhaps we can discuss what you desire of me."
I sat, aware of a distinct sense of loss when he re-moved his hand from my arm. To distract myself from the unwanted temptation he posed, I lifted my glass again, this time just dipping the tip of my tongue into the liquid.
"Oh, great, now my tongue's gone numb. If I find out this has something harmful in it, you're going to be history."
He grinned. "Nothing harmful."
I relaxed and took another sip, braced for the roar of fire that flooded my body.
