It was everything she’d never realized she’d wanted before leaving for the other realm. She wasn’t sure when they’d be back this time. Remy had hinted there were tasks the Queen might ask of the House now he was mated, and he’d need to be there with her at his side.
She wasn’t sure when she’d see her coven again. Two weeks, four. Maybe longer. And it was then, as she watched them chatting and laughing together, she fully accepted that they were more than just her coven. They were her family.
Words escaped her as the thought hit home, then, only one question needed answering. “When the hell did you get this done?”
“This morning,” he admitted softly, his gaze never leaving hers. Tracing over the pleasure she wasn’t ashamed to show. “Before I went to the other realm. I made the arrangements with Elenor then.”
Touched, she felt tears gather in her throat. “But you were mad at me,” she whispered, as her butt inadvertently started to wriggle as a more modern and totally un-holiday-like BEP’s ‘I gotta feeling’ blasted over the speakers, replacing the more traditional Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’.
“I know,” he said simply then ducked his head and kissed her temple. “But you were frightened, and I hated seeing that. I thought this might cheer you up.”
Urgency overcame her, and she grabbed a tight hold of his forearm, then whispered, “You cheered me up.”
His smile was gentle. Loving. “I know. But I also know how much you didn’t want to miss Christmas.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome, sweetling.”
“Do we have time for this?” She glanced around the party again. “I thought we had to get back to the other realm to meet with the Queen?”
He shrugged. “We do. But she can wait another day. Your happiness means more to me than hers does.”
“That sounds like treason,” she teased.
His eyes twinkled. “She would undoubtedly agree. I sent Eirik for your ceremonial garb. It should be ready by now.” He shrugged an elegant shoulder. “If there’s a problem, I shall use that as an excuse for the delay.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.” Peering down at her outfit, then his, she murmured, “I can see why you’re dressed so fancy now. I’d have worn something Christmassy if I’d known.”
“You look beautiful. And I wanted you to enjoy the surprise.”
“Well, this was definitely a surprise.”
He sighed with pleasure at her admission. “There’s a small buffet for the daywalkers,” he told her as she prepared herself for the walk. “You should be able to eat a few things now. Just a few. Don’t go for anything heavy.”
She gawked at him. “Seriously? I can eat?”
He grinned at her. “Yeah, you can eat. Now the mating mark’s through, your system won’t reject anything other than blood.”
“You do realize that’s the best Christmas present anyone ever gave me?”
Laughter roared from him. She peeked up at him, grinning at his amusement. He lowered his head, a wide smile on his lips, as he pressed his mouth against hers. She moaned and he ate it up, swiping his tongue against her bottom lip, demanding entry.
An uncharacteristic whimper exploded from her, as he began to overload her senses with him. Her knees, already shaky, began to buckle as he thrust his tongue against hers again, mimicking what they’d been doing mere hours ago. He pressed her into the doorway, and the movement had her experiencing the thickness of his cock pushing into the softness of her belly.
He groaned as she rocked her hips, tilting her pelvis to caress him. Fire shot through her veins, singed the very air from her lungs as he claimed her mouth as he’d claimed her in ways unique to his people.
“You please me, leman,” he growled against her lips, their heavy breath mingling as he stayed close, pressing his forehead to hers.
“And you please me, mate,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she lifted a hand and carefully traced her tender mouth.
A low grunt escaped him. “Don’t do that. Makes me want to pin you to the wall and take you here.”
His confession thrilled her. “But there’s my party,” she pouted, teasing him by looking up at him through her lashes.
“Trust me, that’s the only reason I haven’t bent you over your desk.”
“Promises, promises,” she whispered, loving how heavy lidded his eyes had become. Adoring the physical signs of his arousal. An arousal that was solely for her now.
“Come,” he stated gruffly. “To the party. Then I can take you home and claim you on my territory.” His eyes flashed, that silky membrane whipping like lightening across his eyes. “Everyone will know House Dreconis is complete.”
She cocked a brow. “They will, will they?”
His grin was wicked, evil incarnate. “An Elven spell, dearling.”
“That does what?”
“Transmits our scents along the borders of our land.”
Aghast, she made a gagging noise. “You do realize how disgusting that is?”
He looked supremely unconcerned. “It is our way.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not mine.”
He just shot her a grin. “You won’t smell it. I won’t smell it, not in human form. But as a dragon?” His grin deepened, turned even more wicked than it had been a mere moment before.
“I still think it’s gross.”
“It may be to you, but it’s delicious to me. Speaking of delicious,” he murmured, “what’s the first thing you’re going to try on the buffet?”
“Chocolate,” she decided, her tone firm. “Then ice cream if there is any.”
“Somehow,” he said, beaming at her. “I think that can be arranged.”
Chapter Fourteen
It wasn’t the most unusual outfit she’d ever worn, certainly not considering she’d been around in the early nineteenth century, but it was most definitely peculiar.
She wore what seemed to be a chemise thanks to the light linen it was made from, but was in fact, a dress.
A simple sheath dress, it had a boat neckline and covered her from chest to knee. It was white, with no adornment. But on top of it, she wore a black velvet waistcoat that trailed to the ground at her feet but had a train at her back, which swirled out like those of a wedding dress. From the waist down, it had swirls of metal sewn into it that mimicked her mating neckline which wasn’t around her neck, but sewn onto the waistcoat.
The fern-like buds and organically styled length of metallic rope glinted and gleamed in even the darkest shadows of the cavern. Only God knew how it would look when she was in a more illuminated area.
She looked at herself in a floor to ceiling mirror and had to admit, though the outfit was incredibly simple, it was also incredibly beautiful.
A sharp intake of air told her her mate was in the vicinity.
She caught him watching her in the mirror and, with a smirk, stated, “I never took you as a peeping Tom, Remy.”
He frowned at her in confusion—a state, she knew, he was becoming quite used to in her presence. “Peeping Tom?”
“A voyeur?” she proffered, and when he still looked clueless, she grumbled, “All these books and you don’t know any of the good words. My point was, you didn’t have to watch me from the shadows. You could have taken a seat and watched me dress.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I did. And I made my presence known...didn’t you hear me clear my throat?”
She blinked. “No. But I was rather taken aback with this waistcoat.”
“You look stunning in it. That’s why I had to clear my throat; your beauty overwhelmed me.”
She half-turned to peer at him. “I can never tell if you’re teasing me or not.”
His lips twitched. “Surely not, dearling.”
“Surely yes,” she groused, with a pout.
“Anyway, you have a lifetime to learn when I’m joking. But I spoke the truth this time—your beauty is enchanting.”
She peeked up at him. “My ‘ceremonial garb’,” she even used the hand quotes, “Is rather incredible.”
“Nothing in comparison to the woman wearing it,” he murmured, stepping closer into the part of the cavern where, from this very night, they’d be sleeping together.
She’d refused to share this bed with him until they were fully bound.
He’d been totally confused by her demand she stay on the chaise longue, but it had seemed like bad luck to start their mated lives together when she was still incapacitated.
Not tonight though.
She was standing on her own two feet, even if those two feet were a little wobbly still.
If they had a great distance to cross tonight, he’d definitely have to help her.
She grimaced with annoyance at the thought. When something else crossed her mind, she tilted her head to the side in silent question. “What is a tear stone anyway?” she asked, touching the gem that tipped each bud of fern on her mating ‘necklace’.
“When a leman is found, a dragon sheds a tear. When a Dragonling is born, a dragon sheds a tear. We only shed two in our lifetimes, and each is used for ceremonial purposes.”
“Dragons cry tears of gems?” she asked, bewildered by the notion, but she did vaguely remember seeing him cry before she’d passed out that first day.
“No.” He strode toward her, not stopping until he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him. “It’s like a regular tear, but as it falls to the ground, it crystallizes. When it smashes, we collect the pieces.”
“What happens with the pieces when a Dragonling is born?”
He smiled. “It goes towards the ’ling’s ceremonial wear.”
“Oh no, don’t change it now,” she retorted. “Ceremonial garb sounds far more fitting for such lofty items of clothing.”
He pulled a face at her teasing. “Mother have mercy. The Queen is either going to love you or loathe you. Hopefully, she doesn’t set against the entire House, because you have an attitude problem.”
She pulled back at that and pouted. “I have a very modern attitude, thank you very much. It’s not my fault if you’re used to stuffy old lemans who were born back in the Dark Ages! I’m a modern kind of leman,” she mocked. “Born in the twinkle of the Renaissance’s eye.”
“Whatever you are, you’ll certainly have the court astir with all your new words.”
“What have I said now that’s confusing?”
“The Renaissance?”
She gritted her teeth. “Remind me to get you an encyclopedia.”
“I can’t wait,” he murmured, his turn to tease. When she realized that, she whacked him on the shoulder.
He just grinned.
“What do I call the Queen?” she asked.
“Her Majesty. If she likes you, she might ask you to call her by her name. If she does, say Queen Anista. Not just Anista. She can be low on formality, but she isn’t that informal.”
Nodding her understanding, she turned around in his arms to look in the mirror again.
Ooh, it was nice to see them together like that. Him standing there, holding her close, his arms wrapped around her belly.
Then, she noticed he was wearing something very similar to her, and she gawked. “Let me see what you’re wearing!”
He cocked a brow. “Why?”
“Because this is your version of mine, and I want to know what you look like before we leave.”
He grunted and pulled away, strode around her and stood there, still as any mannequin in a shop.
His hair was around his shoulders, curling about his ears in a way that made her long to play with the tips of each dark lock. He wore a similar waistcoat, but it ran down to his calves and didn’t end in a train as did hers. From the waist, it was decorated with a matching stylized swirl but in gold rather than the silver of hers.
From shoulder to waist, he had a similar neckline, and the fern buds matched hers.
“That’s why you liked his design,” she murmured with a smile.
“Aye. No one sees these outfits save for the people at court. He’d have had no way of knowing how mine had been made—the Goblin who crafted mine died a long time ago. Way before Greytook was even born.
“He saw from the tear how mine matched. That takes a special kind of goldsmith.”
“They’re both beautiful.”
He nodded. “I’m glad they please you.”
She looked at his simple white vest and trousers and looked down at hers. “We’ve both bust the ‘No white after Labor Day’ rule,” she said on a sigh.
“I’m certain sometimes you speak another language just to confuse me.”
“Yes, I do. It’s called post-Millennium. Get used to it.”
His lips twitched. “Come, it’s time to go.”
She nodded and, only to herself, admitted to being a tad nervous.
Together, they walked out of the bed chamber, which was given a modicum of privacy from the rest of the cavern by a naturally formed stone wall. They passed down the tunnel and climbed the few steps to the clearing.
If she hadn’t have been so tottering on her feet, it would have taken far less time, but he was surprisingly patient.
When they made it to the clearing where he usually shifted, she saw a cluster of brown leather straps and could only assume it was the saddle he kept mentioning. Still, she eyed it then him.
“How am I supposed to get that on you when you’re a dragon? You’re huge.” She frowned. “In fact, how am I supposed to climb on top of you.”
Laughter fell from his lips. “I will let you climb me, of course.”
Of course. Because climbing a dragon was something she did every day of the week.
“And I put the saddle on now, then when you climb, you can arrange the straps on me.”
“Well, this doesn’t have the potential to go wrong, does it?”
“It’s enchanted,” he attempted to reassure her with a grin. “Once it’s on, and once it’s secure, I’ll know. Then, after this first ride, when I shift, it will always shift with me.”
She huffed out a surprised breath. “That’s pretty nifty. Those Elven folk seem to know their shit.”
He winced. “Try not to swear in front of Anista. She doesn’t like it from ladies.”
Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, “I am used to the pretentiousness of court, Remy. Don’t worry, I know how to behave.”
“I never doubted it,” he said gallantly as he strapped the saddle onto his back like a rucksack. Then, before she could do no more than grumble, he shifted.
As always, he stunned her with his beauty. But now, there was a prideful cast to her gaze as she looked him over.
This dragon was hers. Nothing and no one could tear them asunder.
She liked that. It pleased her.
The saddle was indeed on his back, and she watched as he clambered down onto his belly. The position was one she knew he’d only ever recreate for her benefit. It was far too demeaning for him to prostrate himself before anyone else.
Touched that he did so on her behalf, she trod carefully on his wing. He raised the giant muscle and lifted her, as though she weighed nothing, until she reached his back.
“You must tighten the straps from here, dearling. Otherwise, once you’re seated, it will be too difficult to reach.”
She shrieked and almost fell off his wing at the sound of the voice speaking loud and clear in her head.
“Jesus! Remy, warn a girl if you’re going to start speaking inside her mind!”
A chuckle sounded, one that made her wallop his side. It probably hurt her more than it hurt him, considering his hide felt thicker than dense leather. As she cradled her fingers, she grumbled, “Why didn’t you tell me that before you shifted?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me, and we’d have wasted ten minutes arguing about it. Far easier just to show you. Plus, it’s a new gift. It only appears once the mating mark is in place so I couldn’t tell you before: t
here was nothing to tell.”
She narrowed her eyes at him when his huge head turned to look at her. The shape of his skull meant that she could only see one huge tawny eye, and though he was fierce and ferocious with huge fangs that looked like they could tear through rock, she had fangs of her own. Fangs she exposed with a toothy grin as she flipped him the bird.
He grunted, but the rasp, so dragon-like, was enough to have her heart pounding. “Now that’s just mean,” he told her.
“I’m feeling particularly mean,” she retorted then bent over and did as he’d said with the ties on the saddle. “Should I go around the other side and do the same?”
The giant head nodded.
The huge wing lowered like some kind of organic elevator, and she clambered around his body, using him as a support while she tried to get accustomed to being back on two feet once more.
With the straps secured on that side, she lifted a leg and climbed astride the saddle.
“I can feel the magic weaving into place. Just put your hands on the straps, and magic can weave through your fingers and the leather—it means you can never fall off. The spell protects your eyes and skin from the wind too.”
She liked the sound of that and complied. Her fingers prickled a little, almost like fizzy water was sparkling and spitting against the skin.
When it stopped, she knew the magic was settled and found no surprise in her when Remy murmured, “Get ready.”
When he set off, from this position, she could do no less than gawk.
She knew her mouth was open, and she knew it was a very unpleasant look, but she couldn’t help it.
From between his grand claws, the view had been stunning, but from here? It was insane.
The mountain range ran as far as the eye could see, and this position enabled her to see quite a lot.
In the far distance, she saw that bizarrely colored sea once more, just a tinge of color, and it still stunned her.
He flew faster this time, faster than ever before.
“Because you’re secured on my back,” he told her briefly, invading her mind in a way she felt certain she’d never get used to. “You will,” he replied, freaking her the hell out because that meant he could probably hear everything she was thinking. He snorted. “I can. But only in this form.”
Christmas: Dragon Style (The Sanguenna Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
