You Slay Me

by Katie MacAlister

  "There's a difference?"

  Drake sipped his drink. "One of semantics, perhaps. Names—"

  "—have power. Yeah, yeah, so I've gathered. Do you agree to the rules?"

  He set down his glass, pulling me close. His breath was warm on my cheek as he nuzzled my jaw. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Lots of them," I said, squirming, although whether it was to get away from him or closer to him was not quite clear in my mind. That thought, however, made me curi­ous about something. "What... uh ... what exactly did you do with the virgins?"

  "What virgins?" he asked, his hand sliding up my thigh.

  "The ones you said you missed so much," I answered, stopping the hand before it could slide under my tunic. There would be no touchy-feely business while I hid the Eye of Lucifer in my bra.

  He pulled back a couple of inches, unexpected amuse­ment making his eyes dance. "Unfortunately, by the time I was born, very few villages were offering up virgins as a sacrifice."

  "Really? What did they give you instead?"

  He glanced toward a cabinet that held a variety of jew­eled daggers.

  "Oh. Ah. Well, I suppose gold and jewels and valu­ables are better than a virgin any day, eh?"

  'That depends on the virgin." he answered, his hand trying to slide under mine.

  "Sorry, gropage isn't part of the rules," I said, firmly pushing his hand away. "Do you agree to the terms?"

  He sighed and sat back, his fingers trailing down my bare arm. I shivered at the heat that just his fingertips could generate. "Very well, although I must warn you, I do not like my women dominant."

  1 snorted at that comment (which was all it deserved) and settled in to get serious. "Right, let's begin with Mme. Deauxville. What were you doing there?"

  Drake sipped at his drink, stalling as long as he could before he answered. "I told you that the Venediger hired me. I was at Mme. Deauxville's to fulfill the duties that I was hired for."

  I pinched his wrist. "We'll be at this all night if you an­swer all my questions that evasively. Now, spill."

  He frowned at me. "It does not come easily to me, this interrogation. I am the wyvern of the green dragons. I am not a person to be treated thusly."

  "You're also arrogant, domineering, and sexy as all-get-out, but that doesn't change the rules. You agreed to answer completely."

  Emerald fire burned hot in his eyes. "You push me too far, Guardian."

  I smiled and flicked my tongue across the tip of his nose. "I haven't even begun to push you, dragon. Now let's get on with it."

  A tiny wisp of smoke drifted out of one nostril. Drake's jaw was so tight, I was surprised he could talk at all, but talk he did. "I was hired to retrieve the Blood of Lucifer from Mme. Deauxville. I arrived early, having been misinformed about the time you were due to deliver the aquamanile. When I arrived, she was dead."

  Without thinking, I laced my fingers through his, rest­ing our joined hands on his thigh. "Hmm. If you didn't kill her, who do you think did?"

  He tossed back the remainder of his drink. "I assumed the Venediger did. Bafamal was one of the demons he frequently used. The murder had all the signs of being his handiwork, but for one thing."

  "What was that?" I asked, my thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand.

  "He would never have spent the money he agreed to pay me to do a job he intended on doing himself."

  "Oh, yeah, I see your point. So who do you think killed her?"

  "I have no idea." His green eyes turned to me. "I had rather thought you would be able to tell."

  I grimaced. "I couldn't. When I tried to figure out who drew the circle beneath the Venediger, the gazebo caught on fire." I frowned, remembering the powerful feeling of controlling Drake's fire. "Why was I able to feel your fire when you weren't with me?"

  His gaze flickered to the side. "You are my mate. One of the abilities of a mate is to channel fire."

  "But I shouldn't have been able to do that if you weren't there, right?" Something so obvious that you probably thought of it eons ago struck me. "You were there, right there. You were at the Venediger's house. That's how you knew I showed up, how you knew I had gone into the garden to see him."

  "I was just leaving when you arrived, yes. I remained to see what you would do when you discovered the body, but unfortunately Istvan had discovered that the police were on their way. I decided retreat would be a better choice than to stay to see what you would do."

  "You didn't miss much of anything other than me set­ting the building on fire." And finding the Eye of Lucifer, of course. "Why did the Venediger want you to steal the aquamanile? Why didn't he just buy it from Mme. Deauxville?"

  Drake turned our hands so that his fingers were stroking mine. It was an extremely erotic feeling, al­though I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. "She was his rival."

  "Rival?"

  "In the sense that she acquired an object he desired, yes. She believed she was the reincarnation of a great mage, but in truth she was deceived."

  "And the Venediger? He really was a great mage?"

  Drake shrugged, his fingers moving up my arm.

  "So the Venediger was trying to gather together the Tools of Bael. Did he know you had the Voice of Lu­cifer?"

  "No. I was going to negotiate for the sale of that after I had acquired the aquamanile. He already had the Eye. I knew he would give anything to gain the last of the three."

  I peered suspiciously at him. Something he said didn't make sense. Drake had mentioned that he held on to what was his. As avidly as he reacted to the sight of gold, I didn't believe for one moment that he'd give up such a glorious piece as the Voice of Lucifer for mere money. I couldn't help but wonder if he had been planning on double-crossing the Venediger, planning to steal the Eye of Lucifer from him once he had the other two pieces. But if he had intended on doing so, that would mean he meant to use them. But for what purpose? "If the Venediger was such a powerful mage, why would he need the Tools of Bael. What would that do for him?"

  Drake laughed and tugged me closer. I leaned bonelessly into him, aware again of the wonderful feeling of his heat, of the spicy scent I knew was him and not cologne, of the sensual feel of his leg and hip pressed against mine. "Sweetheart, why does anyone want power? To conquer, of course."

  "Conquer what?" I looked up at Drake, noting ab­sently that he had adorable earlobes.

  "With the power of Bael joined with his own? Any­thing. Nothing would be out of his reach. Europe, the Eastern Hemisphere, the world, mortal and immortal... it would all have been his."

  A shiver of dread skittered down my back. What made sense for the Venediger also made sense for Drake. He was a powerful wyvern. If he could use the Tools to draw on the power of Bael, was there anything he couldn't do, any treasure he couldn't take?

  "No one should have that sort of power," I said firmly.

  "No? It is a point many would dispute. Come," he said abruptly, standing and pulling me up.

  "Come where? I'm not done questioning you."

  "Am f not allowed occasional respite?" he asked, his eyes full of dark laughter again. He tugged me toward the door to the hall.

  "What sort of respite?" I couldn't help but think of that big black-and-gold bed upstairs.

  "Dinner. I'm hungry, and after emptying your stom­ach, I assumed you would be, as well."

  I was a bit ashamed of the smutty direction my thoughts were taking as he led me out to the hall and up the curved staircase I had crept along earlier in the day. "Oh, dinner, yeah, that would be nice.. .. Hey! Your din­ing room isn't upstairs."

  His fingers ran around the edge of the armhole of my tunic. "I assumed you would prefer to change into some­thing less stained."

  I twitched myself out of his grasp. "Oh. Yes, I would, but my clothes— Oh, blast it!" I stared up at Drake, dis­may filling me at what I'd forgotten. "The police! They know I was there, and they must have gone back to my hotel by now. I'm a wanted criminal! Proust is never goin
g to believe I'm innocent now. They probably even have an arrest warrant out for me. What am I going to do? I can't go back to my hotel or they'll arrest me. My things—"

  "I will provide you with whatever you need," he an­swered, leading me down the hall, in the opposite direc­tion of his bedroom, I was pleased to note. Well, perhaps not completely pleased ...

  "Really? Do you keep a supply of women's clothing and undergarments available just in case of drop-ins? Wait—maybe I don't want to know the answer to that."

  Drake grinned a grin of absolute and complete smug male delight. "Jealous, sweetheart?"

  As a dark, brooding, and incredibly sexy man, he was nearly irresistable to me. But playful Drake almost did me in. Immediately I went into full scorn mode. "You wish."

  "You don't lie very well, do you? As for the other, I have already offered to retrieve your passport. If you will not take it and leave the country, there is little else I can do other than provide you a safe haven," he said as he flung open the door to a room I hadn't visited earlier. The room was decorated in varying shades of blue and gold. On a very comfortable looking bedspread with a lapis-colored satin cover a variety of women's clothing had been placed. "Just to set your jealous mind at ease, I had Pfl pick a few things up for you while I was showing you around the house. He had to estimate your size; if any­thing doesn't fit, let me know and I'll have him fetch the appropriate replacement. The bathroom is through that door," he pointed to a door next to a large wardrobe. "I thought you might want a shower before dinner. If you need me, the intercom is here."

  I looked at the electronic panel set next to the door. "Um ... you said you have closed-circuit TV in all the rooms...."

  He nodded toward corner. I peered across the room. A small, unobtrusive camera was attached to the ceiling, a tiny little red light glowing as it watched us. Drake pushed a button on the intercom panel. The light on the camera faded into darkness. 'The green button turns the cameras off."

  I looked at the camera suspiciously. "How do I know it doesn't just turn the light off? How do I know you're not some strange pervy man who likes to videotape women undressing?"

  Drake laughed and put his hands on my hips, turning me to face him. "If I wanted to see you undress—and I'll admit, it's a thought that gives me pause—I wouldn't have to resort to using a camera to do so."

  I went all breathless and weak-kneed, which was pretty much my standard response to Drake whenever he was closer to me than fifty feet. "Oh, yeah? You're aw­fully sure of yourself."

  For a moment his eyes were filled with longing, and I knew he was absolutely right. If we weren't both making the effort to keep our desires safely leashed, we'd be rolling around that big bed of his at that very moment. "Don't be too long. I'm very—" His gaze roamed over me. "—hungry."

  The door clicked quietly closed behind him as I stood in the middle of the room and hugged myself. "I am so out of my depth with him," I said softly.

  The sound of my voice reminded me that I had things to do, important things, things that did not involve moon­ing over a dragon in a male form that made great huge puddles of slobber gather in my mouth. I checked the clothing on the bed, approving of the two lightweight dresses, a sleeveless silk blouse styled very like my tunic, and a pair of white gauze harem pants. Pal got full marks for getting darn close with the size of the clothes (includ­ing a pair of espadrilles that fit perfectly). There were also three sizes of both bras and undies, one of which was mine, so I added bonus points to his tally as I trotted into the bathroom to take a fast shower.

  After I threw one of the dresses over the camera. I wasn't taking any chances with Drake.

  12

  A cold, wet nose rubbed against my cheek, dragging me from a very erotic, very detailed dream involving Drake, me, and a container of yogurt. Lemon yogurt. My favorite, especially when consumed in the manner Drake was feeding it to me.

  "Mmmmm. What? Who... oh, Jim. What are you doing here?"

  "I know you're heading for forty, but I didn't think old age would be catching up to you so quickly."

  "Huh?" I rubbed my eyes, pushing myself up on one elbow to glare at my hairy little demon.

  It glared right back at me. "Have you forgotten that you got down on your dimpled knees and begged me to stay in your room so as to protect your chastity from the big bad dragon?"

  "My knees aren't dimpled," I said irritably. I was en­joying my dream about Drake. If I couldn't taste the for­bidden fruits he posed in reality, at least my subconscious deserved to have a good time. "And I didn't beg you, I commanded, and the only reason I commanded was be­cause Drake kept trying to seduce me last night."

  "Really? I didn't see that. He didn't even touch you after dinner."

  I blushed. It hadn't been an easy thing to sleep in the same house as Drake, knowing his lovely, warm, enticing body was sleeping just down the hall from me. "He didn't have to. He just sat there oozing sensuality at me, the rat fink. Besides, I figured it was safer for everyone if you spent the night here. Istvan was ready to gut you after you tried mating with his leg. What on earth possessed you to do that?"

  Jim looked over my shoulder, a mildly embarrassed look on its face. "I wanted to find out if it was as good as I thought it would be."

  I wouldn't ask, I wouldn't ask....

  "It was," Jim said.

  "Right, I've heard enough. Now I feel all icky," I said, climbing out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower—then I'll take you for walkies."

  "Eh ... you better take me out now, unless you want to be explaining to Drake why there are some pretty bo­dacious pee stains in this carpet."

  "Great, just what I need, an incontinent demon," I grumbled as I pulled on the pants and tunic from the day before. I snatched up the leash and waved Jim out of the room, stopping by the kitchen long enough to ask Istvan (who was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee) for some plastic bags. The furious look he shot Jim made me glad I'd kept the demon in my room during the night.

  We returned twenty minutes later with me muttering about Jim being nothing but a walking poop machine, and the demon grousing about who it had to bribe lo get some food.

  "I'll take you down for breakfast as soon as I've had a shower," I said once we were back in my room. I pulled off the tunic top, casting a quick glance over to make sure my dress was still covering the camera. I started to undo my bra. "Turn around."

  "Oh, please. I'm a demon," Jim said with a roll of its eyes.

  "I know exactly what you are, and I'm not getting naked in front of you. Turn around."

  "You really have issues, you know that?" Jim turned its back to me. I peeled off the bra, grabbed some fresh clothing, and with the lodestone that had been under my pillow all night, headed toward the bathroom.

  "Just what am I supposed to do while you're taking your time in there?" Jim asked plaintively as I was about to close the bathroom door. "Other than starve to death, that is. I know how long you women can take in a bath­room."

  "Comments like that are not going to make me hurry. Go... oh, I don't know, go explore. Just don't touch anything or get into any trouble, and if you have any brains in that big furry head of yours, stay away from Istvan!"

  I made my morning ablutions, taking the time after­wards to use a pair of manicure scissors I found in a drawer to make a slit in the double-lined cup of my bra, sliding the lodestone into it. The stone was so flat, it couldn't be seen, although I had no doubt that should Drake's hand go awandering, he'd feel the large round stone instantly. "I'll just have to make sure there's no touchy-feely business going on, that's all," I said to my­self as I did a twirl in front of the steamy bathroom mir­ror. The gauze dress Pal had selected fit almost perfectly. I slipped on the espadrilles, tidied my bedroom, and was about to go find Jim when the door burst open and the demon dashed into the room, its eyes wild.

  "Thank the fires of Abaddon you're done!" Jim panted.

  "What's wrong? Why do you look so frightened?" My breath caught in ray
throat as my heart started galloping. "Oh, god, the police aren't here, are they?"

  "No, it's worse than that," Jim said, turning back to the door.

  My heart settled down into its normal rhythm, the hor­rible suspicion that Drake might have turned me in evap­orating even as I drew a breath. "Don't scare me like that! What could possibly be worse than the police?"

  "You'll see. Come on."

  "If you're dragging me somewhere to see another dog you've fallen in love with—," I warned as I followed Jim down the hallway, past the big staircase and into the wing that housed Drake's bedroom.

  "Are you kidding? I'm a demon, not a two-timer. My heart belongs to Cecile."

  "You don't have a heart," I pointed out. "I thought you were on the verge of starving to death."

  Jim stopped in front of a door and gave me a scornful • look. 'There are some things more important than feed­ing your face, Aisling."

  That stripped the grin off my lips. If Jim thought something was more important than having breakfast, it would have to be something tantamount to the apoca­lypse.

  "Isn't this Drake's room?" I asked, looking at the closed door.

  "No, we passed that. Go on in."

  I wetted my lower lip, suddenly nervous. "What's in there?"

  "I can't tell you," Jim said softly.

  "Why?"

  "Just go in."

  I gave Jim a steely glare. "If this is some sort of a setup between you and Drake—"

  "Fires of Abaddon, will you just go in!"

  I put my hand on the door, a familiar feeling of dread swamping me, stripping the air from my lungs with its in­tensity. "Oh, no, not—" I threw the door open. The room must have been the communications center that Drake had mentioned earlier, because it was filled with a bank of computers, monitors showing various parts around the house and grounds, and one big control panel laid out like a soundboard.

  Oh, and one demon in a shiny, electric-blue suit.

  I stared speechlessly at the demon in man form that swiveled around in its chair to look at me. It looked like a man, a rather handsome man with high cheekbones and elegantly coiffed blond hair. It even had a tiny, discreet earring. What the devil was a demon doing in Drake's house?