Chapter Eight #2
Yrian smiled.
My heart felt like it leaped and did a somersault at the sight of it. Dear goddess, the more I was around him, the more I noticed just how sexy he was.
“It’s a good thing we sent Jim home to Paris, or it would be demanding we film the shindig,” Aisling commented as we all traipsed out of the castle to a small side garden surrounded by high hedges.
“I feel the same about having Brom and Pixie go off for date time rather than attend the sárkány. They’d just want to fight, too, and I know everyone would have to be careful not to hurt Pixie.
And just so you know, I’m absolutely going to film, but it’s for those times when Baltic has to go away, and I feel the need to see him beat the tar out of Drake and Gabriel,” Ysolde said with a bright smile at everyone.
The two men in question looked martyred for a few seconds; then everyone broke into pairs and spread around the garden in a rough circle.
A row of chairs had been set out, along with a table with several glasses, a collection of appetizers, a few bottles of assorted alcohol, and even champagne on ice.
I recognized two familiar bottles, and wondered if anyone would think it rude if I asked for a hit of the dragon’s blood wine now, but decided I could get through the confusing mess of emotions that Yrian seemed to stir inside me without it.
“I believe ten minutes is the usual time allowed?” Allie said, glancing at the ladies, who had all moved over to the table and were loading up tiny plates with the snacks.
“We try to keep it to that time, since any longer and they lose all the benefit of working out their frustrations,” Ysolde said around a mouthful of food. “Good lord, these baked feta crostini are delicious. Allie, Pavel and I are going to want the recipe so we can serve this for the next sárkány.”
“I’ll text it to you,” Allie promised, then turned back to where everyone was waiting. “Right, ten minutes. No fire, no fangs, no ... er ...”
“Human form only,” Aisling called, moaning softly when she bit into a salmon cake. “Also, please send me the recipe for this. Does it have lemon and sriracha? May, you have to try this.”
“Oooh, that sounds divine,” she answered, quickly picking up two of the salmon cakes. “I’ll save one for Gabriel. We love sriracha.”
“That’s right, human form only, not that vamps have any other form, but still,” Allie said, turning back to the circle, pulling out a whistle.
“We could change form if we wanted to do so,” one of the guards said, glaring at Drake, who glared right back at him.
I had a feeling they wouldn’t be the best team, and instead considered Yrian.
Annaliese was speaking to him, her hands dancing in the air as she gestured across the circle, obviously making plans. He nodded, but his gaze was on me.
I felt alternately hot and cold, my emotions going into overtime with speculation, curiosity, and what felt like a whole lot of sexual interest.
“May I suggest that we also remind Yrian that no godlike powers be used?” Ysolde asked, scooping some chicken larb onto her plate. “Baltic knows he can’t use any magic, so it’s best that Yrian adhere to that policy, as well.”
“That makes sense,” Allie agreed, lifting the whistle to her lips. “No magic, no powers. Everyone ready? And ... go!”
The entire circle imploded on itself, all the participants rushing forward until there was basically a massive pig pile of people flailing, thrashing, kicking, and subsequently grunting with pain.
I stared in horror for a few minutes at the sight of it all, turning back to the women. “This is barbaric!” I told them.
Aisling, who had set down her plate to applaud when Drake sucker punched Baltic, gave me a wry smile.
“I know it looks horrible, but it actually does them a lot of good, and no one gets seriously hurt. Dragons have a remarkable healing ability, and as Allie said, Gabriel is available to heal anyone who gets too hurty. Hey! I saw that, Christian! No fangs means no fangs!”
Christian said something quite rude in Czech, but since I gather it was just a general statement and not directed at Aisling, the battle royale went on.
I flinched every time Yrian was attacked, but after a couple more minutes, I realized something astounding—he was clearly enjoying himself. His eyes were so bright they almost glowed gold, while he and Annaliese worked with amazing harmony to take down the others, one pair at a time.
“Yrian was right about her,” I said, watching as Annaliese and he attacked, and took down, Gabriel and his vampire.
“Who? Oh, your guard?” May stood next to me, sipping champagne, wincing when Yrian flung himself onto Gabriel, his fists bloody, but his expression obviously one of satisfaction.
“Yeah, she’s pretty tough. Maata, one of Gabriel’s elite guards, is female, too, and there is no way I’d ever want to get on her bad side.
She’s beyond badass. Nice one, Gabriel!”
“You may think it’s nice, but now he’s got blood in Archer’s pretty hair,” Thaisa said as she moved over to stand with us.
I eyed her for a moment. She had what I assumed was a genetic trait that left her with oddly colored eyes, and a stripe of white on her eyelashes and eyebrow, narrowing into a faint line in her hair.
She flashed me a smile. “I know what it’s like to be the new kid on the block.
My best advice is to ask questions when things confuse you.
The men hate answering questions, but thankfully, all the mates share info. ”
“The new kid?” I asked, confused.
“Being a mate, I mean,” she answered.
“I’m not a mate,” I said, shaking my head, but whether it was at her comment or my own misguided emotions, I refused to consider. “I’m an artificer.”
“Right, but you’re with Yrian, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Not in the way you mean—holy shit. He really is something, isn’t he?” I watched in astonished admiration when Yrian spun, kicked, and tackled the others in a manner that left me nigh on giddy with sudden lust.
“They all are,” Thaisa said, smiling broadly.
“Now I know I’m insane,” I murmured to myself, and took the glass Allie offered.
“Five minutes!” she shouted over the sounds of the fray, holding up a bottle of champagne. “Anyone need a refill?”
All the dragon ladies held up their glasses.
Near the end of the allowed time, the fighters broke up their pairings, and it became a free-for-all.
“That happens,” Ysolde told me when she caught sight of my expression when Annaliese jumped Yrian, and they both tumbled to the ground when Drake attacked Yrian at the same moment.
“The last few minutes they go solo. Don’t worry—no one looks seriously hurt, although it would appear Drake is bleeding from his mouth, and we all know what that means. ”
“He’ll end up with another fake tooth,” Aisling said with a sigh.
“I think Archer may have done something to his knee,” Thaisa said, not in the least bit concerned. “He’s limping after his brother, and it looks like Hunter’s fingers are broken, which is why he’s running away rather than fighting.”
“I am not running away!” the dragon in question bellowed. “I don’t run away from anyone, let alone Archer. Dammit, stop chasing me, so I can fix my fingers!”
“They have really good hearing,” Thaisa said, giving her brother-in-law a little wave.
“They do, but I really want to discuss what Thaisa said.” Ysolde’s eyes were on me, making me feel all shades of awkward. “Do you ... er ... for the lack of better phrasing, like Yrian?”
“Of course I like him,” I said, tamping down the emotions that wanted to rise. “He’s a nice man.”
“He is?” May looked across the carnage. About three-quarters of the dragons and vamps were now on the ground, most moaning, while the remainder lumbered around slowly and painfully, still trying to continue the fight.
I was oddly proud of the fact that Yrian was one of the two standing dragons, his brother being the other.
Christian and a Spanish guard named Jesús were the upright vampires, but as I watched, Jesús went down when Drake lashed out with a leg.
Allie blew the whistle. “Time’s up. Vampires will find blood inside in the fridge. Dragons, the dragon’s blood is flowing.”
“Literally,” Ysolde said with a little giggle as the ladies all went onto the field of battle and helped their respective men over to the chairs.
“I would say I was dead, but I hurt too much for that to be true. Can someone pick me up and pour me into the nearest chair?” the dragon named Hunter said from where he was struggling to sit upright.
Christian and Baltic obliged, half dragging him over to the chairs, where Aisling handed him a glass of wine.
Yrian took two steps toward me and went down to his knees. I was moving before I even considered what I was doing. “Are you OK? You don’t have any blood on you.”
“You haven’t seen my back,” he said, accepting the glass of wine I had picked up for him. I moved around to look at his back, my eyes wide with horror at the sight of a line of four deep gouges down the middle of his beautiful dragon tat.
“What the hell?” I asked, pulling a tissue from a pocket to try to mop up the blood that leaked out of the slashes. “Who did this to you?”
Archer raised a hand. “Dragon hunters don’t normally shift, but my claws came out when Yrian broke two of my ribs. I apologize for that. No, Thaisa, don’t try to lift that arm. It’ll take me a bit to heal the ribs.”
“I thought the rules were made quite clear. No dragon form, just fists,” I said in a stiff tone directed at Archer, but as he was at that moment leaning back in his chair, a pained expression on his face while Thaisa mopped up various cuts and scrapes, I figured he was feeling the weight of his actions.
“Do not enrage yourself,” Yrian told me when I helped him over to a chair and poured him more wine. “It was not done maliciously. Did you enjoy the sporting?”