“Who?” I asked, confused.
“The unattached wyverns, Bastian and Kostya. They have seen you, and they want you.” “Oh, for the love of all that’s good and glorious! It’s flattering that you think every wyvern out there is panting after me, but you’re way off the scale here, Baltic. No one gives a damn about me, at least not in that sense. You really do take the cake, do you know that?” “I have no cake!” he said, deliberately misinterpreting me.
I slapped my hand down on the table, frustrated, amused, and wildly aroused, all at the same time. “Well, that’s a shame, because I could sure go for a piece right now.” “If you are hungry, I will feed you,” he said somewhat grumpily “Maybe later,” I said with a smile. I looked around the room, examining the few objets d’art scattered around. “This is a very pretty house.” The sitting room was also done in white and egg cream, with beige and white striped overstuffed armchairs, less substantial black and gold Regency chairs, and a honey oak parquet floor.
“It’s abominable, but it has an excellent view of the surrounding area, so I will be able to see attackers before they can strike.” I stopped in front of the long fireplace, tipping my head as I examined him. He looked the same as he had earlier — chocolate hair pulled back in a short ponytail, the widow’s peak drawing attention to his high brow, his eyes just as piercing as they had been in my dreams. I sensed power about him that I realized with a shock was his dragon fire, carefully leashed, but present nonetheless. “Is that how you think? In terms of people attacking you?” “Dragons, not people.”
“Well, perhaps if you didn’t run around slaughtering other dragons, you wouldn’t have to protect yourself from them when they seek revenge.” A frown pulled his eyebrows close. “If you are referring to the wars—” “Actually, I’m not,” I said, heedlessly interrupting him. “I’m talking about the sixty-eight blue dragons you killed a couple of months ago.” He said nothing for a moment, pulling a long cream and gold curtain across a floor-to-ceiling window before turning to consider me. “What would you think if I told you that I was not responsible for those deaths?” “I’d say…” I thought for a moment, my lips pursing. “I’d say that everyone believes you are.” He shook his head. “That is not what I wanted to know.” “It’s what you asked,” I pointed out.
“But it is not what I wanted to know, a fact of which you are well aware.” To my surprise, he smiled. “If you had any doubt that you are a dragon, Ysolde, the fact that you avoid answering a direct question should be proof positive.” “You should do that more often.”
“Point out reasons why you should recognize the fact that you’re a dragon?” “No, smile.”
His smile faded. “I have had no reason to do so.” “Maybe not, but a sense of humor is right at the top of traits I find sexy in a man.” “You already think I’m sexy,” he said with arrogant ease, strolling toward me with the same sense of a panther gliding silently down a jungle path that I remembered from the other Ysolde’s life.
“In the past? No doubt. But there are a whole lot of sexy men around today.” I kept my voice light, striving not to let him hear the smile in it.
He paused, a moment of uncertainty in his face. “You find this other man, this husband, sexy?” “Gareth? Lord, no.” I frowned, wondering about that.
“Then why did you mate with him?”
“Physically, you mean?”
He nodded, watching me with the intensity of a panther, too.
“I don’t really know. I must have slept with him at some time. That’s what married people do. But…” I sat and tried to examine the still impenetrable mass that was my memories. “No. There’s nothing there. I can see his face, and I know he’s a bastard, and I don’t wish to be married to him anymore, but beyond that, it’s pretty much a void.” “That is a small comfort,” Baltic said with a wry twist to his lips. “What man is it you find sexy, then? Is it Gabriel? You find him arousing?” I couldn’t help but smile at the sudden look of sheer outrage that passed over his face. “Why on earth would you think that?” “You are a wyvern’s mate,” he snorted. “He is a wyvern, and you were staying in his house. Did he touch you?” “Even if he wanted to — and I assure you, he views me as nothing more than a big pain in the ass — May would kill him. And quite probably me, although perhaps she’d let me live because if she killed me, she’d feel obligated to take in Brom.” “Who is Brom?” he asked, his frown back. “Is he yet another man who arouses you?” “I think lots of men are sexy, but that doesn’t mean squat,” I said, trying not to laugh again.
“It does to me.”
“Pfft. Like you haven’t ever seen a woman and thought she was attractive?” “No,” he said in complete seriousness.
I gawked at him, just a little gawk. “Oh, come on, Baltic.” “You doubt my word?” he said, bristling at the implication that I thought he was lying.
“I think you’re trying to make me feel bad, yes.” He sighed a very exaggerated sigh, pulling me to my feet. I stepped away immediately, knowing that just being close to him would leave me indulging my carnal desires. “Ysolde, you are my mate. I desire no other woman than you. I would not try to make you feel bad. I would not lie to you, a fact you should know.” “All right, I apologize for doubting your word,” I said humbly, moving over to the window. Although my body screamed to be near him, my mind knew it was wiser to put a little distance between us.
“Good. Now tell me where this Brom is so that I might geld him.” I laughed again, amused by the flash of ire in his eyes.
“You laugh at me, woman?” he said, stalking toward me.
I laughed even harder, holding him back with a hand on his chest. “Please do not geld my son.” He blinked at me. “Your son?”
“Yes. Brom is my son. He’s nine. I think you will like him. He’s a little odd, but very clever, and has an amazing range of interests, including a love of history. I’m sure he’d love to talk to you about the things you’ve lived through.” A muscle in his neck twitched. “You had my son with another man?” “No, I had my son with another man.” His hands fisted, his face a veritable storm cloud of anger. “By rights he should be mine! You are my mate! Any child you bear should be mine!” “Oh, grow up,” I said, tired and suddenly annoyed.
I thought he might explode at that.
“I had Brom nine years ago. Nine years ago! So you can just deal with it, or not, but I warn you, I love Brom with all my heart, and I will not tolerate you treating him as if there is something inferior about him.” “You love me with all your heart,” he yelled.
“Do you always yell?” I shouted back.
“Yes!” he snarled.
“Fine!” I bellowed.
He was so angry I swear his eyebrows were bristling, and before I could finish my sentence, he was on me again, his arms as hard as the oak floor beneath us, his mouth hot and demanding and just as exciting as it had been in my dreams. His tongue was everywhere, twirling around my tongue, tasting me, firing my blood with little touches that seemed both gentle and demanding at the same time. He filled my senses, overwhelming me with the scent and taste and feel of him pressed up against me.
And then the fire came. Actual fire, the kind that burns things down. One minute I was kissing him, feeling as if I were on fire, and the next I really was. For a second I panicked, sure I was going to be horribly burned, but just as I was about to fling myself away from Baltic’s fire, an amazing thing happened — something inside me shifted. It was as if the entire world seemed to go slightly out of focus for a moment, then snapped back to its normal clarity.