Planet Dragos: A Novella of the Elder Races

by Thea Harrison

  “We’re a bad influence on each other,” he muttered. “Trust me, it’s just best to avoid him altogether.”

  “Bah.” With that exclamation of disgust, she cuddled against him again.

  He almost couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Almost, but then he asked, “Are you cloaking yourself yet?”

  She took in a deep breath and admitted, “A little bit.”

  The drug protocol had played havoc on her body in more ways than one. Relief and pleasure eased the worry that had dogged him ever since she had collapsed during their trip to DC.

  He coaxed, “Show me.”

  Meeting his gaze with a sidelong smile, she took off the cloaking spell, and there it was. Ever so faintly, her skin luminesced with a faint, moonlit glow. When he had first laid eyes on her true state, he had known then he was in the presence of a living miracle.

  Now, it had taken a beating. It was dim and by no means up to its regular strength, not yet.

  But her light did shine.

  Chapter Nine

  Over the next week, Pia and Dragos gave themselves permission to sleep and rest as much as they wanted. And between bouts of caring for the baby, they slept a lot.

  “We have to start calling him something,” Dragos said one morning as they lounged in bed. “You’re sure he hasn’t said anything about his name?”

  Pia shook her head as she absently ran her foot along Dragos’s ankle. “I’m sure. I’ve been watching and waiting for it. We dream a lot together. Usually we’re running around in the woods somewhere, and he really loves to sunbathe, but no… he hasn’t told me what his name is yet. I believe he will when he’s ready. After all, Liam told us his name.”

  “I guess we just have to keep calling you Stinkpot for now,” Dragos said into the baby’s tiny, innocent face. “One of these days you’ll understand what that nickname really means. I don’t think you’ll like it quite as much as you seem to right now.”

  As the drug cleared Pia’s system, food started to taste good again to her. It wasn’t that it had tasted so bad before, but as her balance and health were restored, she began to realize just how all her senses had been dulled.

  She couldn’t get enough greens and gleefully ate salads until she was stuffed. Then she shapeshifted into her Wyr form to graze outside. After a few days she started running in the mornings for the sheer pleasure of feeling her body move. The circles under her eyes disappeared, the extra weight melted away, and she healed with remarkable speed.

  Eva was a big source of worry, and Pia fretted mightily until her friend was able to come home. After keeping Eva in an induced coma for a couple of days, the physicians were able to facilitate the rest of her healing. Pia talked with her several times on the phone while she recuperated, and when Eva returned to New York, Pia insisted she stay at the house with them so that the staff could help to look after her.

  After a nominal protest, Eva capitulated easily enough. She spent long afternoons in her canine Wyr form, napping on the rug in the kitchen until it became second nature to step over her on the way to the fridge.

  Soon after their return, Dragos and Pia Skyped with Rune and Carling in Dragos’s home office downstairs. Everyone in the wedding party had left Las Vegas and gone home by then, so the couple was back in Florida recovering.

  Already Carling looked miraculously better. It would take her a few months to regain her full strength, but while she still looked gaunt, she was no longer the skeletal horror she had been in the cave.

  “She terrified me at first, but then it didn’t matter so much, and having her there was really comforting,” Pia told Dragos before their Skype session. “She made a promise that she wouldn’t hurt me, and I believed her. You could see it in her face, her eyes. She had full possession of herself. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  “I think I understand what you mean.” Dragos looked thoughtful, as he did so often these days.

  “Caerlovena made blood thirst sound so awful.” Pia gave Dragos a sidelong look. “But despite how bad Carling looked she brushed it off.”

  “According to what I’ve read, blood thirst is one of the most terrible conditions you can endure,” Dragos told her. “Severe blood thirst feels like every vein in your body is on fire—and I understand other creatures find that to be very painful. Plus, Carling would have been starving. Blood thirst can drive a Vampyre to indiscriminate slaughter. They lose complete control over themselves and their actions, and they can no longer discern when they’ve had enough to eat. They keep drinking and killing until they’re stopped.”

  She hadn’t realized she had stopped breathing until he had finished talking. Then finally she had to suck in a breath. “Ew.”

  “As you say,” Dragos replied, raising one eyebrow. “Ew.”

  “Let’s not talk about that when we visit with them.”

  And they didn’t. Instead, Dragos held up the baby so Rune and Carling could get a good look at him, and the four of them talked details about the aftermath. Bills were starting to come due, and the final total would be astronomical.

  But not only was Dragos one of the richest multibillionaires in the world, Rune had plenty of his own money, and as one of the oldest Vampyres in existence, Carling was also fabulously wealthy.

  Nobody counted the cost. They had all survived, and that was what really mattered.

  Pia said, “I’m just sorry it ruined your wedding.”

  Rune and Carling exchanged a private smile. Rune said, “We weren’t going to let Caerlovena take that from us. As soon as we got back to Florida, we had a private ceremony. In a few months, we’ll throw a party to celebrate.”

  “Congratulations,” Dragos told them.

  Pia’s gaze lingered on his expression. His lingering distrust of Carling had finally dissipated, and he truly meant what he said.

  “Thank you,” Carling replied, smiling.

  Toward the end of their Skype visit, Carling looked at Pia. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about what happened in the cave. Toward the end you were talking a lot and even arguing, as if you thought someone else besides me was present. I assumed you were hallucinating, but then suddenly we ended up with a large pile of clean towels and pots of steaming water. Do you have any idea where that stuff came from? I’m glad we had it when the baby came—and it certainly provided enough of a distraction for Dragos and Rune to make their move—but with the magic dampeners on the bars, Khalil said not even a Djinn could have gotten inside, so it’s quite a mystery.”

  Put on the spot, Pia wasn’t sure how she should respond, and Dragos was no help. He merely watched her with a shuttered expression, eyelids lowered to veil his gaze. She floundered a bit, then finally raised her hands in a shrug.

  “You got me,” she said finally and in perfect truth. “I thought I was hallucinating too. I remember talking to someone who looked like Dragos.”

  “Ah well,” Carling murmured while she and Rune wore baffled expressions. “If you ever figure out what happened, I’d love to hear it.”

  “You bet,” Pia promised.

  After they disconnected, Dragos leaned forward and told her, “You are the best lying non-liar I have ever met.”

  She accepted his kiss and took another one before he could pull back. Then she said, “We still haven’t talked about it. Him. We haven’t talked about him, or actually any of the others either. How many Primal Powers are there? The Elder Races only have seven in their pantheon.”

  “You got me,” Dragos said, shrugging much as she had during their Skype session. “I don’t really have anything to do with them, except I used to have a… let’s call it a certain rapport with Azrael.”

  And Azrael had said, You, of all people, should know how closely related death and the dragon are.

  Pia studied Dragos with narrowed eyes. He was her husband, her mate, her dedicated lover, and most fierce protector, and yet in many ways he was still a total mystery to her.

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”
she pushed. “We’re not going to talk about the pressures of godhood or anything like that?”

  His gold eyes gleamed, and he looked both amused and exasperated at once. “Pia, what does godhood mean? Tiago is a thunderbird. More than half my sentinels have been worshipped as gods in Egypt. Look at the Djinn and what they can do. Hell, look at yourself in the mirror—look at yourself when you’re in your Wyr form. Unless something or someone kills you, you are going to live indefinitely, and your blood heals any wound. That’s pretty damn miraculous in my book. There are many of the Elder Races who have been called gods at one point or other in history, and just as many who have been called demons.”

  She scowled, but his logic was unassailable. “Okay, you have a point,” she conceded grudgingly. “But…”

  “No buts,” he replied firmly. “You wanted to talk about this? Weird shit happens. And there are weird people all over the world who can do a lot of weird shit. That’s it. End of discussion.”

  Now she was the one to glare at him in exasperation. “Fine. How about I invite him for dinner?”

  Standing, Dragos growled, “No.”

  She followed him out of the office. “What about Thanksgiving? Christmas? How about for the boys’ birthdays?” When he rounded to face her, she laughed. “I’m teasing you. I don’t want to feed him.”

  Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close. Pia snuggled against him with a purr. There was nothing sexier in the world than Dragos carting that little bitty baby around on his shoulder. And now, finally, she was beginning to feel it.

  But while her body had completely healed when her Wyr nature had resurged, she wasn’t emotionally ready for intimacy yet. After a few gentle invitations, Dragos let it go. They were taking their time with healing and cuddling. Letting the relief of surviving another crisis soak in.

  Letting the sexy simmer on a slow burn. Mmmmm.

  Besides, Pia was worried about Dragos, and she had a strong instinct they hadn’t talked everything out yet.

  While he always had a ready smile for both her and the baby, when he fell into repose his expression turned closed and brooding. She could see that he was working through something, and she let him take his time with it.

  One evening, when the baby was almost two weeks old, they sat outside by the fire table. Dragos nursed a scotch while Pia drank hot tea. She pretended to read while the baby slept on her chest. Mostly she soaked in the fresh, warm air, the yummy scent of cut grass, and the miraculous little creature nestled against her.

  “We’re so lucky,” she whispered.

  Dragos set aside his book. “We are,” he agreed quietly.

  There it was again, that closed, brooding expression. She reached over to clasp his hand. “What can I do to help you?”

  He shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know.”

  She gave him time, but when he still didn’t say anything, she said gently, “Excuse me for a moment. I’m going to put the baby in his bassinet and be right back.”

  Dragos nodded and swallowed scotch as she went inside.

  For the most part, Pia was attached to her little bitty baby with a tight, invisible umbilical cord, but since Stinkpot was sound asleep anyway, easing him into the bassinet by their bed was a quick and easy maneuver.

  Grabbing the video baby monitor, she went back downstairs to find Dragos pacing restlessly along the edge of the patio. She hesitated by the back door, watching him unobserved. As she noted the frustration evident in his long, powerful body, she felt overcome with a wave of anxiety and sadness.

  When he turned back in her direction, she started forward again. While he continued to pace, she wandered over to the fire table. Their books and drinks sat undisturbed along the edges, while in the middle of the table the small, bright fire threw off enough heat to take the chill out of the summer evening.

  She didn’t hear Dragos come up behind her, but she knew he was there before he set his hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” he said into her ear.

  With a shake of her head and a quick smile, she leaned back against him. “For what? You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “I do.” He nuzzled her neck. “Back when we first arrived in Las Vegas, I hurt your feelings.”

  So much had happened since then it took her a moment to connect. “That was…” Her voice trailed away as embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “Unimportant.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her. “It was not unimportant. I said the wrong thing. I was flat-footed, and I apologize.”

  She rested her cheek on his bicep. “To be fair,” she said carefully, “I’m not sure there was anything you could have said that would have been okay. I really was kind of crazy, you know.”

  He pressed his warm lips against the sensitive skin at her neck. “I could have told you that you were beautiful.”

  As she thought of all the doubts and worries that had consumed her, the corners of her mouth turned down. “I wouldn’t have believed you.” She sighed. “Sure, it would have been nice to hear, but I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt like a blimp, and I looked like a hag. I don’t want to be a shallow person who’s consumed with how she looks. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I didn’t feel that way when I was pregnant with Liam. This time was really different.”

  His chest moved against her as he sighed too. “You and I have such a strong rapport, and you are usually so much wiser than I am about people. It’s sometimes easy to forget you’re not yet thirty. You think you looked awful, but I am telling you the absolute truth—you were and continue to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  She struggled with how much she had needed to hear that, until tears slipped down her cheeks. She said, muffled, “Thank you for telling me.”

  He rested his cheek against her hair. “I was very well aware of the shadows under your eyes. The changes in your body were like scars gained on a battlefield, and to me, every change was a mark of beauty—it was a different kind of beauty but still beautiful, nonetheless. They told of your strength and single-minded determination to carry a dangerous pregnancy to the best of your ability for as long as you possibly could. I was worried about you, and angry that you wouldn’t consider inducing labor, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that I was, and continue to be, very proud of you. Because of you, our son is strong and healthy. In fact, everything good in my life is because of you.”

  “Dragos,” she whispered, turning to bury her face in his chest. “I feel the same.”

  He cupped the back of her head. “I’m not done,” he said. “When you asked about the man on the billboard, I shouldn’t have shut you down. That was another mistake I made, and I’m sorry.”

  She tilted back her head to search his shadowed expression. “To be fair, you were in the middle of dealing with other things.”

  “I was dealing with shit,” he said bluntly, his gold eyes glinting with self-directed anger. “It was a fucking building project that got bogged down in politics, prejudice, and bureaucracy. After I hung up from talking with the mayor, all I could think was I’m done. I’m just done.”

  She rubbed his back as she listened. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered, his arms falling away. Stepping back, he began to pace again. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  Always along the edge of the patio, she thought. Never straying too far, but looking somehow trapped, like an animal in a cage.

  Her heart squeezed. She said, “You’re not very happy, are you, darling?”

  At that, he gestured impatiently as he swung around to stalk another circuit.

  Crossing her arms, she covered her mouth to hide her smile. “You don’t want to talk about your feelings? What a shock. But happiness isn’t some namby-pamby concept, you know.”

  “Namby-pamby,” he echoed, as if he’d never heard the term before. Pausing in his pacing, he looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  He wou
ld always be cunning and dangerous, but this simple confusion caused such a rush of intense love for him it rocked her back on her heels.

  “Happiness is a powerful thing,” she said gently. “Or at least it can be. You get to be happy too, Dragos. Is it all right if I tell you what I think?”

  He gave her a short nod. “Please do.”

  Now that it came down to it, she felt nervous about starting. Words carried an unbelievable amount of power. Certain words, said at the right time and in the right way, could break relationships, abolish treaties, start wars, change the world.

  She only hoped she could find the right words to say what she thought he might need to hear.

  Chapter Ten

  Wandering around the fire table, she picked up his tumbler of scotch and finished it. Thank the gods Wyr women never had to worry about alcohol when they were pregnant and breastfeeding.

  “Okay.” She set the empty glass down and squared her shoulders. Like giving birth, the only way out of this was to go through it. “Once upon a time, there was a dragon who lived so long he saw the world fill up with all kinds of people and creatures, and they didn’t all get along. But the dragon was clever and good at adapting, so he stamped out his kingdom in this growing world, and he ruled it very well.”

  A hint of male satisfaction eased the tightness of his expression. Strolling over, he poured another scotch. “He did, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did. He was most excellent at outplotting and outthinking and outfighting all his competitors and enemies.” She rubbed the long line of his back. “But then he ran into this whackadoo creature and mated with her, don’t ask me why, and they started having children, so like a lot of married couples they moved out of the city and into the suburbs. Suddenly they had baby carriers for their cars and preschool to think about. College came into the conversation. And none of this was exactly what the dragon had been expecting in his life.”

  He burst out laughing. “When you put it like that, it does sound startling.”