Smitten

by Vivienne Savage

  On the subject of crooked senators, he thought. “By the way, I had a call from Duhane this morning thanking us for attending his party yesterday. He said you were, and I quote, ‘delightful and radiant.’ As usual, you have left an impression.”

  “Are you surprised?” she asked, her demure tone setting his blood aflame.

  “I… no. Far from it. That’s why I invited you, after all.” His hands paused on her thigh, relishing every second of contact between them.

  “I thought you invited me as a buffer between yourself and the eligible women who would haunt your steps from the moment of your arrival.”

  “That too.”

  Applying lotion to Ēostre was its own kind of hell, chipping away his willpower with every touch. By the time it was over, he’d fought back the urge to take her like a savage beast on the lounge chair, and she was smiling at him with a sexy half-smirk.

  “And what’s next on the agenda?” He wiped his hands against his thighs, cleaning off the greasy remnants.

  “You tell me,” the silver dragoness said. “Saul never tires of reminding me about the things I’ve missed while sleeping. It feels as if I’ll never catch up, and there’s always some new surprise beyond the horizon. So tell me, what’s a pair of people to do when they’re at the beach?”

  “Trust me?” Max asked. He offered his friend a hand and pulled her from the lounger. She leaned close, brushing her lips against his cheek in response.

  “More than anything.”

  The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch once Max decided to introduce Ēostre to a century of beachside activities. They did everything from snorkeling off the coast to racing jet skis across the blue waves. Max talked Ēostre into parasailing to experience flight without her own wings keeping her aloft in the ocean-scented wind.

  While Max enjoyed every second, he had only a single regret each day after they parted to their individual rooms — that the night didn’t end with Ēostre in his arms.

  Chapter 9

  “Good afternoon, Ēostre.”

  “Hello Hilary,” she greeted Max’s secretary. “Is he with anyone at the moment?”

  “No, and he’s been expecting you. Shall I send in your usual coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She headed down the hallway and gave a nod to Vincent, opening her mouth to greet the wolf when Max’s voice exploded from behind the closed door.

  “What the hell?”

  Ēostre rushed ahead into the office, Vincent hot on her heels, to find Max sitting behind his desk staring at his laptop. A flood of color swept across his cheeks, highlighting his enraged expression.

  “What?” she asked. “What are you yelling about? Did we drop rank in the polls? I was sure I checked them this morning.”

  “No, it’s not the polls. We’re in the lead as usual, and ahead of Thompson again by a good margin.”

  “Then why are you bellowing? Has the board tried to rip your company out from beneath you? I thought that was in the past.”

  “Vincent, please give us a moment. There’s nothing here for you to fight.”

  Vincent swiftly analyzed the office interior for threats before giving a terse nod. The werewolf dropped his hand from the grip of his gun and retreated, reclaiming his former post in the hall.

  “Will you please tell me what’s going on, Max?” Ēostre asked after the door closed behind the guard.

  In answer, Max turned the laptop around. A beach photo dominated the screen, accompanied by an article from a popular celebrity gossip blog. Ēostre and Max were pictured mid-laugh, walking through the surf hand in hand.

  IS THERE LOVE IN THE AIR? the headline questioned.

  “That’s a damned nice photograph,” Ēostre commented, impressed. With one palm flat on his desktop, she leaned over for a better look. The photographer had captured the very essence of their holiday weekend away from stressful office days and their fellow judgmental winged predators.

  It had been worth every penny she paid to arrange the candid photo. Max would never forgive her if he discovered the truth, but she had a feeling it would be popular among the female voters.

  Most of all, she’d wanted a memory of their weekend together for herself.

  “There are photos of my chest everywhere,” Max grumbled, oblivious to the headline.

  And what a fine chest it is, Ēostre decided. “And your back end. Don’t forget that,” she said cheerfully while scrolling down the page. She checked several sources and found the same photos shared across them.

  “Oh, read the comments here. GamerMouse says, ‘Are we sure this guy is in his fifties? Looks more like thirty to me.’ Ha!” Ēostre laughed. “And AsurKat called my swimwear choice ‘bold and provocative.’ What did you… think? About the suit,” she added slyly.

  “It was a brazen choice, I agree, and well worn. You turned every head we passed. I didn’t, however, expect it to turn up all over the internet. I’ll have Lynette scour the market shelves for any physical copies so we know what we’re dealing with.”

  While he fretted over the possible fallout, Ēostre sat on the edge of his desk.

  “We can turn this around to our benefit, Maximilian. Worry less,” she said, pressing her thumb against the deep furrow in his brow and smoothing over it. “They are lovely, innocent photos, and now the world knows you have a softer, gentler side.”

  “They’ve jumped to conclusions about our relationship,” he pointed out in a tense voice. “And violated your privacy. I am less concerned about my own image than I am of—”

  “No harm done. It’s speculation and I haven’t seen any negative remarks in my skim overs. You’re a bachelor, so there is no scandal. Only a fun day at the beach for a hardworking man.”

  She kissed his cheek and waited for the worried wrinkles to smooth from his brow. Once they did, she exhaled a pent-up, relieved breath herself.

  After a long pause, he grudgingly admitted, “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Of course I am,” she said in a breezy voice. “Now, enough fuss. What are you doing here when you have a lunch meeting across town in an hour?”

  “It’s been rescheduled,” he grumbled. “I had a few last-minute instructions I thought up last night to leave behind for the company since I’m passing over the reins, more or less.”

  “And your text asking me to meet you here?”

  “We have business to discuss.” Some of his usual humor leaked back into his voice. “You’ve won our bet and it’s time for me to pay up. I already informed the team they’ll be guarding an empty mansion tonight. I don’t want them in my hoard, and they’re not comfortable with traveling by your preferred mode of transportation. We decided it wouldn’t hurt since you and I technically won’t be in public.”

  She grinned. “That and there is no safer place than in a dragon’s den.”

  “Naturally. I figured we could head from here into the Capitol Building, finish up our next slew of campaign matters, enjoy a nice dinner, then part ways in the public eye.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes. I mean to feed you before allowing you to rob me of a precious valuable.”

  Ēostre crinkled her nose briefly, her mind flitting to an inside joke between her and Chloe. The younger woman had discriminating tastes when it came to romance novels, and they’d once laughed about the common theme among most of them — drop-dead sexy women who do nothing but visit restaurants to eat fancy meals before getting laid by powerful men.

  I suppose I don’t count, she mused internally. I’m not his mistress, and we aren’t having sex, which is the true crime here.

  “My figure disagrees with our frequent dinners out, but I can’t decline a good meal,” she said aloud. “You know the best places in Sacramento.”

  “Nonsense. Your figure is perfect exactly as it is.” Maximilian’s hands raised to her middle and traced the shape of her body from waist to hips. After gliding both palms over her curves, they retreated from her sleek pantsuit ba
ck to the armrests on his chair. “You are as slim as you were three centuries ago. Perhaps even five,” he mused.

  Lamenting the loss of his touch, Ēostre tucked her chin and studied her own lap. Compliments from Maximilian, while genuine and always true, dredged up memories of her life as a young, unmated dragoness, when suitors hounded her relentlessly with precious jewels. Wanting her favor, no less than a dozen eligible males followed in her shadow.

  “Definitely not five,” Ēostre said, “I’m afraid I have Saul to blame for that. Anyway, what time shall I retrieve you?”

  “Midnight. I’ll be waiting for you in the parlor.”

  The remainder of their day passed with swiftness, despite dull meetings and press calls. Her mind kept wandering to what precious gems and artifacts Max had hoarded over the long years, and how she was going to choose one.

  Throughout dinner, Ēostre remained aware of the occasional eye following them from nearby tables, how a few hours in Max’s company completed her day, and how he hung on to her every word in a way Fafnir never had.

  The internal comparison to her deceased mate took her by surprise, and from that moment on, the restaurant’s other occupants vanished. She drove home from their dinner in a partial daze, engrossed by fantasies of confessing her affection to her best friend.

  Election night, she decided. Win or lose, I shall tell him on election night. Until then, I must be practical. I can’t divert Bel’s attention from what matters now. I must be as patient as the hunter stalking her prey.

  With a clear mind, Ēostre stepped into her apartment at the Adagio and shut the door behind her. Her role as Maximilian’s top advisor had required her to stay close, and for appearances, she rented an apartment in the city. Years later, the two-bedroom flat had become her own little slice of urban heaven, a place to retreat after a long day when she craved silence and peace. Usually, she teleported home to the manor and stayed overnight with her family, only to return by morning to conduct business in the city again.

  After slipping from her heels, she tossed her purse onto the couch in passing and proceeded down the hall, footfalls muted by plush cream carpet. Portraits of Astrid, Saul, and Chloe lined the walls along with cherished treasures from her hoard. She’d surrounded herself with objects she loved to bring comfort to her home away from home.

  By midnight, she couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. Promises of a new priceless trinket had Ēostre bouncing on her toes when she crossed via a magical window from her personal home office and into Max’s mansion. As agreed, he awaited her in his lavish parlor, the seventy-inch, curved Smart TV playing a favorite show.

  “I have lost all respect for him,” she commented, eyes on the Viking leader dominating the screen.

  “As have I,” Max admitted. He grimaced and flicked his gaze back to the fictionalized depiction of Vikings on his television. “If only all humans valued their chosen mates as well as we dragons.”

  “If only. Are you ready, or shall I wait until the end of your episode?” she teased.

  “I’ll resume once I’m home.” He cracked a smile at her and rose from the seat, still clothed in his slacks and button-down shirt. She saw his tie slung over the back of the couch. “Take us to Mount Shasta’s satellite cone. It’s close to where we must enter the hoard.”

  Ēostre raised both hands and constructed a perfect portal, shaped from her own will and molded by magic. Its border glimmered brightly, sparkling with the luminescence of a hundred sparkling fireflies with a snowy wonderland framed beyond it.

  She stepped into a disused climbing camp near the summit of Shastina. When Max followed, she shut the gateway behind her and surveyed the majestic beauty of the world beneath them. The pristine, snow-covered caps of Mount Shasta remained as lovely as the peaks in her memories. Standing with her face lifted to the frigid wind, she breathed in fresh mountain air and sighed.

  “It’s been a while since I said this, but you have amazing taste when it comes to homes,” Ēostre murmured. “This is glorious.”

  He chuckled. “We can leave our clothes here before descending the slope.” Without another word, he unfastened the line of buttons on his shirt and shrugged out of it. Ēostre watched at first, entranced by how his muscles moved and flexed over his powerful torso, then she snapped out of it and mirrored him.

  Max didn’t glance at her once. She stole a peek as she set her dress aside to see the ideal and perfect draconian gentleman even had his back to her as he folded and set aside his mortal garments, exposing a backside that could have been carved from marble. He made her knees weak, those hard and chiseled muscles something she’d fantasized about having under her hands since their day on the beach.

  Disappointed in his failure to regard her nude state, she took her dragon form and he did the same, giving her an entirely new reason to admire his unmistakable appeal. As a man, Max was certainly attractive, but as a dragon, he was breathtaking.

  The ruby plumage of his wings had brightened over the years, and his horns, while only a meter long, gleamed golden. Bold spots of blue color decorated the bend of each wing and reappeared as speckled bits of down near the wing shoulders. He turned to face her, snorting steam from both nostrils.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Lead on.”

  With his tail balanced behind him, Max dove forward, resembling a skier on the slopes. Ēostre hung behind a second to giggle before she scrambled behind him down the mountainside. As she followed, moving her claws quickly over the rocky terrain to keep pace, she couldn’t help but notice how much he seemed to enjoy their playful race. He knew the mountain best, and she didn’t have a hope of beating him to his hidden lair.

  Dragons always hid the exterior entrance to their home, but their methods usually varied. While Saul had built a manor above the entrance to Ēostre and Fafnir’s former residence, Ēostre preferred to use magic. A bevy of illusions concealed the entrance to the cave system where she’d slept in Switzerland while mourning. As a final failsafe, anyone approaching her lair became acutely, but seriously ill until they were forced to turn back and leave.

  She knew they were close when the ice-covered boulders split open, parting to reveal a craggy crevice. Max wiggled inside and led her down a path that widened after a hundred feet of darkness. Eventually, the rough stone walls gave way to smooth, polished rock. Max’s scales slid against the walls and created tiny sparks.

  The volcanic dragon entered ahead of her and exhaled a single breath of fire, which split into individual spheres of trembling flame. Each one floated in the air until it reached one of the sconces located around the huge room. The result was radiant, exposing beauty she’d never thought possible from one of his kind.

  “And you claimed you couldn’t use magic,” Ēostre teased gently.

  Every dragon’s hoard was different from the next. Some lived in pigsties overflowing with coin, and some took pride in sculpting their lairs into masterpieces. Max was among the latter, a creature who’d shaped his mountain stronghold into art. Black volcanic glass walls rose from stone floors chiseled by his own claws, decorated with jewels glittering from where he’d embedded them in the walls. They shined in every color of the rainbow, and some had been shaped with tender care.

  Obsidian casks and polished wooden chests held every manner of coin and gemstone, while smooth pedestals displayed individual treasures. Vases and sculptures shined at her from every point in the cavern.

  “Anything I want?”

  “Such was our wager.”

  She wandered through the neatly laid pathways, pausing to touch and sort through her options. Coins held little value to her and she already had plenty of raw gems in her own horde. The few scrolls Max had collected over the years briefly drew her interest, but she had a copy of almost all of them.

  “Where did you find these? The detail is exquisite.” Distrusting her claws to handle some of the finer works of art, Ēostre shrank back to her human body. A hot rush of modesty clothed her with magical ador
nments of silver silk after she considered his earlier avoidance. The sleek garment pooled around her ankles, so thin it was like she still wore nothing at all. Not that she expected Max to notice.

  Did he find her unattractive? Or was it something more, the ghost of her dead mate, Max’s best friend, haunting their relationship? The thought snaked through her mind, but she suppressed it and glanced over her bare shoulder to find her distracted host lumbering away, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

  “I did not find them anywhere,” he answered.

  “Well, whoever you commissioned has true talent. May I pick from among these?”

  “Take your choice,” Max said, as if it pained him. He wandered over to an enchanted pit of bubbling magma and flopped down to rest his chin on both claws. He reminded her of a man resting beside a stoked fireplace.

  “What if I want to think on it?” she called to needle him.

  Max’s playful growl sent shivers of desire up her spine. Sensing it, his head raised sharply and a pair of molten red eyes fixed on her face. With his nostrils flared, she had no doubt that he smelled her interest.

  But he didn’t act on it. Instead, he set his face against his claws again and turned to the pool. He lazily dragged his tail through the magma.

  A dozen figurines awaited her inspection, crafted from molded metal and cut crystal. An opal swan rose up in a magnificent pose with wings spread, looking like frozen moonlight. Bronze and gold fused together to depict a majestic eagle with chipped amber for eyes. In fact, most figurines featured a winged creature of some sort, and all were equally stunning.

  One, above all the others, captured her attention. A silver dragon with wings carved from diamond poised in flight was set over a large cluster of emeralds. Every exquisite detail had been carefully etched and carved until the metal had the appearance of life. Ēostre practically expected the jeweled art piece to take flight.