You Slay Me
Page 54
wyvern, although I do not recommend you have anything to do with him. He is not only depraved and immoral; he is a psychic, too. All the blue dragons are, but he is the most powerful." Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper. "It is said that he uses his powers to make women do … do … unnatural things with him."
"Sounds like quite the guy. The blue dragons are psy-chics, then? That's their trait? Are they known for their strength?"
She grimaced and absently straightened a picture on the wall. "All the dragons are strong."
"Hmm." The plan I had been mulling over since I left Amelie's solidified. "Do you know where Fiat Blu lives?"
She nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but I counsel you not to see him, Aisling. Fiat is much different from your wyvern."
I reached past her and pulled out the fanciest of the dresses Pal had bought for me. "All the better! If you tell me where he lives, I'll be very grateful." Stricken by the disappointed look in her eyes, I added, "And if I finish up with him quickly, I promise I'll drop by G & T and say hi."
That cheered her up.
An hour later, Jim and I walked up the shallow stone steps of an elegant building in the very chic Place de la Resistance. (The Eiffel Tower was just a few blocks away; then again, so was the Paris sewer museum.) "I don't know why I'm surprised by such a luxurious ad-dress," I said as I pressed the bell beneath a gold en-graved nameplate that read simplyblu. "By now I should know that dragons equal wealth."
'This isn't just wealth," Jim said. "It's an attitude. You should adopt it."
I was a bit surprised when rather than someone using the intercom to find out what I wanted, the black-and-silver-door in front of me opened.
"Uh, hiBonjour. Parlez-vous —"
"Or!"the man in front of me interrupted, sniffing the air just as Drake had done. It flashed through my mind that the French word for "gold" wasor, but before I could explain my gold wasn't valuable, he grabbed my arm and jerked me inside the apartment house, the door slamming behind me with a grim finality.
14
“Hey!" I yelled, squirming out of the grasp of my cap-tor for a second before he grabbed me again. "You left my dem … my dog outside! Let go of me! You can't just drag me around like I'm a sack of potat—mmrf!"
The man, blond and muscle-bound and looking just like the surfer types my ex hung around with,
clapped a hand over my mouth and hauled my struggling self into a small elevator. I tried kicking him in the shins, but he just threw me against the wall of the elevator and leaned against me, all but squishing the breath out of me. I'm not a small woman, but this guy was big and broad and didn't seem to be bothered at all by the fact that I was clawing at his back.
The elevator pinged its arrival at a floor, the doors opened with a rush of air, and for a few seconds I was air-born as Muscle Boy jerked me forward. "Come," he said in heavily accented English.
I dug my heels in, raking both sets of fingernails down the arm that clamped tightly around my wrist, but it did no good. I was hauled into an apartment, and without an-other word, tossed onto a blue velvet sectional couch. While I was fighting my way out of a nest of velvet pillows that served as the back of the couch, Muscle Boy rattled off something in a liquid-sounding language.
I managed to get to my feet, and stood glaring at the back of my abductor until the person he was speaking to stepped forward into the room. I sucked in my breath at the sight of him—Drake was handsome in a dark, sexy, seductive sort of way, but this man looked like a Greek statue come to life. Curly blond hair brushed his shoul-ders, pure blue eyes—a true blue, not a filtered blue like you see in most blue-eyed people—glittered brightly, adorning a face that was so beautiful, it almost made me want to weep. The rest of the man wasn't bad, either, al-though I only had a chance to notice that he was a few inches taller than me before he glided forward with his hands outstretched.
"Cam,Renaldo did not hurt you? He did not know who you are. You must forgive his very poor manners. We have been in Paris too long; he begins to behave like a Frenchman."
"Actually, the Frenchmen I've met have all been ex-tremely polite and very helpful, not to mention loaded with manners," I said with great dignity, straightening my dress. Where Drake was all heat and smoldering sensual-ity, this man radiated coolness—literally. The apartment had that silent swish of air that indicated expensive air-conditioning, cold almost to the point of seeing your breath. I could imagine this man's dragon fire was of the frigid variety, a blue fire that burned cold rather man hot.
He took my hands in his, kissing the back of each. Even his hands were cool to the touch. I assumed this was Fiat Blu, the wyvern of the blue dragons. He certainly oozed confidence and power… and I understood exactly why Ophelia had warned me against him. He looked like the very worst sort of rogue.
"You are fortunate, then, for we have found Paris to be a city filled with barbarians," he said, waving his hands toward the window before gently pulling me down onto the velvet couch next to him.
I glanced quickly around the apartment. It was… blue. Everything in it was blue—the ceiling, the walls, the carpet, all the furniture. There were varying shades from midnight blue that was almost black to a pale washed blue that reminded me of an early spring morn-ing. I turned my, attention back to the Adonis sitting next to me. "I take it you are Fiat Blu?"
He put his hand on his chest and made a courtly bow. "I am Sfiatatoio– del Fuoco Blu, the wyvern of the
blue dragons, and Lam very much at your service. How may I be of help to the mate of my esteemed
comrade Drake Vireo?" "
I frowned. "How do you know who I am? And how do you know I'm Drake's mate, not that I have any intention of fulfilling those duties even if I did believe I am who he says I am, but even if I was, how is it you know? Am I like marked somewhere? Is there a big red neon sign over my head saying 'Wyvern's Mate' with an arrow pointing to my head? Did someone tattoo it on my forehead with-out me knowing
it? How?"
Fiat chuckled. It was a sexy chuckle as chuckles went, but gorgeous as he was, it had nothing on Drake's dark, sultry laugh. "I know who you are because I make it my business to know what goes on with those who are im-portant to me. I have seen you with Drake. I hear a rumor that Drake has found his mate, an American who is a Guardian. I hear also that the police are searching for this woman, and that Drake has lost her. An American Guardian shows up on my doorstep with a demon. Who else could you be but his mate?"
"Sounds like quite the guy. The blue dragons are psy-chics, then? That's their trait? Are they known for their strength?"
She grimaced and absently straightened a picture on the wall. "All the dragons are strong."
"Hmm." The plan I had been mulling over since I left Amelie's solidified. "Do you know where Fiat Blu lives?"
She nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but I counsel you not to see him, Aisling. Fiat is much different from your wyvern."
I reached past her and pulled out the fanciest of the dresses Pal had bought for me. "All the better! If you tell me where he lives, I'll be very grateful." Stricken by the disappointed look in her eyes, I added, "And if I finish up with him quickly, I promise I'll drop by G & T and say hi."
That cheered her up.
An hour later, Jim and I walked up the shallow stone steps of an elegant building in the very chic Place de la Resistance. (The Eiffel Tower was just a few blocks away; then again, so was the Paris sewer museum.) "I don't know why I'm surprised by such a luxurious ad-dress," I said as I pressed the bell beneath a gold en-graved nameplate that read simplyblu. "By now I should know that dragons equal wealth."
'This isn't just wealth," Jim said. "It's an attitude. You should adopt it."
I was a bit surprised when rather than someone using the intercom to find out what I wanted, the black-and-silver-door in front of me opened.
"Uh, hiBonjour. Parlez-vous —"
"Or!"the man in front of me interrupted, sniffing the air just as Drake had done. It flashed through my mind that the French word for "gold" wasor, but before I could explain my gold wasn't valuable, he grabbed my arm and jerked me inside the apartment house, the door slamming behind me with a grim finality.
14
“Hey!" I yelled, squirming out of the grasp of my cap-tor for a second before he grabbed me again. "You left my dem … my dog outside! Let go of me! You can't just drag me around like I'm a sack of potat—mmrf!"
The man, blond and muscle-bound and looking just like the surfer types my ex hung around with,
clapped a hand over my mouth and hauled my struggling self into a small elevator. I tried kicking him in the shins, but he just threw me against the wall of the elevator and leaned against me, all but squishing the breath out of me. I'm not a small woman, but this guy was big and broad and didn't seem to be bothered at all by the fact that I was clawing at his back.
The elevator pinged its arrival at a floor, the doors opened with a rush of air, and for a few seconds I was air-born as Muscle Boy jerked me forward. "Come," he said in heavily accented English.
I dug my heels in, raking both sets of fingernails down the arm that clamped tightly around my wrist, but it did no good. I was hauled into an apartment, and without an-other word, tossed onto a blue velvet sectional couch. While I was fighting my way out of a nest of velvet pillows that served as the back of the couch, Muscle Boy rattled off something in a liquid-sounding language.
I managed to get to my feet, and stood glaring at the back of my abductor until the person he was speaking to stepped forward into the room. I sucked in my breath at the sight of him—Drake was handsome in a dark, sexy, seductive sort of way, but this man looked like a Greek statue come to life. Curly blond hair brushed his shoul-ders, pure blue eyes—a true blue, not a filtered blue like you see in most blue-eyed people—glittered brightly, adorning a face that was so beautiful, it almost made me want to weep. The rest of the man wasn't bad, either, al-though I only had a chance to notice that he was a few inches taller than me before he glided forward with his hands outstretched.
"Cam,Renaldo did not hurt you? He did not know who you are. You must forgive his very poor manners. We have been in Paris too long; he begins to behave like a Frenchman."
"Actually, the Frenchmen I've met have all been ex-tremely polite and very helpful, not to mention loaded with manners," I said with great dignity, straightening my dress. Where Drake was all heat and smoldering sensual-ity, this man radiated coolness—literally. The apartment had that silent swish of air that indicated expensive air-conditioning, cold almost to the point of seeing your breath. I could imagine this man's dragon fire was of the frigid variety, a blue fire that burned cold rather man hot.
He took my hands in his, kissing the back of each. Even his hands were cool to the touch. I assumed this was Fiat Blu, the wyvern of the blue dragons. He certainly oozed confidence and power… and I understood exactly why Ophelia had warned me against him. He looked like the very worst sort of rogue.
"You are fortunate, then, for we have found Paris to be a city filled with barbarians," he said, waving his hands toward the window before gently pulling me down onto the velvet couch next to him.
I glanced quickly around the apartment. It was… blue. Everything in it was blue—the ceiling, the walls, the carpet, all the furniture. There were varying shades from midnight blue that was almost black to a pale washed blue that reminded me of an early spring morn-ing. I turned my, attention back to the Adonis sitting next to me. "I take it you are Fiat Blu?"
He put his hand on his chest and made a courtly bow. "I am Sfiatatoio– del Fuoco Blu, the wyvern of the
blue dragons, and Lam very much at your service. How may I be of help to the mate of my esteemed
comrade Drake Vireo?" "
I frowned. "How do you know who I am? And how do you know I'm Drake's mate, not that I have any intention of fulfilling those duties even if I did believe I am who he says I am, but even if I was, how is it you know? Am I like marked somewhere? Is there a big red neon sign over my head saying 'Wyvern's Mate' with an arrow pointing to my head? Did someone tattoo it on my forehead with-out me knowing
it? How?"
Fiat chuckled. It was a sexy chuckle as chuckles went, but gorgeous as he was, it had nothing on Drake's dark, sultry laugh. "I know who you are because I make it my business to know what goes on with those who are im-portant to me. I have seen you with Drake. I hear a rumor that Drake has found his mate, an American who is a Guardian. I hear also that the police are searching for this woman, and that Drake has lost her. An American Guardian shows up on my doorstep with a demon. Who else could you be but his mate?"
