Chapter Nine
NINE
YRIAN
Yrian was on fire.
Literally.
“Sorry, is that you or me? It was me earlier, which, no, I don’t think means I’m your mate, but perhaps it’s something to do with having a sympathetic link? Regardless, I’m not sure Allie’s carpet is fireproof,” Becket whispered.
Yrian stopped imagining her lying on his bed, her lovely red hair spread across the pillow, and all her silky, freckled flesh laid out for him to worship, looked down, and realized that the near erection he sported also triggered a merry circle of dragon fire around their chairs.
“That is my fire, and we will discuss the mate issue at a later time,” he answered, clamping down hard on both his errant fire and the sexual interest that increased with each moment she sat next to him, being tempting.
“Just so you know, I really dislike people telling me what to do. Also, I need to go. My bandmates are getting testy because they want me to watch the other bands, so I’m going to scoot.
I’m sure I’ll see you later.” As she spoke, she rose and, with a quick apology to the others, headed for the door.
He followed her, ignoring the looks from the kin.
She stopped as soon as she left the library. “What are you doing?”
“Escorting you,” he answered, wondering why she thought he’d allow her to venture out unprotected. Even if the First Dragon hadn’t promised that the dragons would protect her, he would never risk her safety. Not with Kashi’s minions searching for her.
“But you’re vital to the meeting your family is having,” she said, and actually put her hands on his chest and gave him a push, no doubt intending on shoving him back into the room.
He didn’t move, just lifted one eyebrow at her. “Like you, I don’t take well to being forced into action. If you wish to feel my chest, I am agreeable, but this pushing action is not tolerable.”
She glowered at him for a few seconds; then suddenly, her expression cleared and she smiled. She had a faint indentation on one cheek that pleased him. “Point taken. I wouldn’t like it if you got pushy with me. As a reward, I’m going to tell you something that you’re going to love.”
“Your legs?” he asked. “Or your breasts? I like both. Also, your hips are quite pleasing. They have a width that makes me feel ...” His eyes narrowed as he tried to put into words just how her hips affected him.
She seemed to be having trouble breathing, her breath coming in short inhalations, her eyes dilating in a way that made him think of bedsport on a lazy summer day.
“It’s not about any of that. You like my hips?
” she asked, her voice more breath than actual sound.
“I like yours, too. And your thighs. I really like those. Did you have a horse in your grief world? Because you have the legs of a man who does a lot of riding.”
“I did, but he died. I miss him,” Yrian said, remembering with mingled fondness and sadness his faithful Gallie.
He’d lived much longer in the griefscape than he would have in the mortal realm, but time caught up to him after a few hundred years, leaving Yrian absolutely alone.
“What do you have to tell me if it isn’t about your breasts and hips? ”
She reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone device, tapping on it until she held it up to him.
“‘Chonky cats,’” he read on the video page. A plethora of videos appeared beneath the words. “What is ‘chonky’?”
“It’s a modern term meaning chunky. Or downright fat.
And if you’re one of those people who bitch at chonky-cat videos by yelling about how unhealthy it is, then we are not going to be friends.
” She gave him a pointed look that, to his great amusement, he felt down to his toenails.
“And thank you for the offer of an escort, but that’s Annaliese and Jesús just by the door, and I’m willing to bet you they are waiting to walk me down to the performance area, so you can go back and help your family. ”
He didn’t like the idea of leaving her care to others, but realized he had little choice. “There is truth in what you say. My kin has need of my help, and I have sworn to do what I can for them. Very well, I will see you later. Do not leave the area, or separate from your protection.”
“OK, this is an example of the bossiness I mentioned earlier. Go do your thing, and I’ll see you later.”
She left before he could give her another five minutes of warnings, but both Dark Ones gave him a nod to let him know they would guard her well.
The rest of the sárkány was engrossing but, at the same time, infuriating. The wyverns continued to insist that Kashi was of no concern, and that he needed to aid them with the dragon Xavier.
“It comes down to this,” the green wyvern said at the end of another hour of discussion.
“Xavier is of direct threat to not just my sept but the weyr and other tribes, while Bael—who, yes, we concede has far more abilities in the Duat than he should, or with which we are comfortable—is the lesser of two evils.”
A wordless protest emerged from the tablet, Kashi’s son clearly objecting. Yrian was sympathetic; Constantine seemed to be the only dragon present who understood just how dangerous Kashi was and the folly that the kin were encouraging by designating him as a lesser concern.
“Will you help us?” the silver wyvern asked, and Yrian felt a familiar trap closing around him.
“Once, I allowed myself to be distracted,” he said slowly, his gaze on the wood grain of the table. It was pleasing, but not enough to drive away the sense of dread and despair that came with the request by the wyverns. “That ended in the destruction of the shadow sept, my mate, and Iceni.”
Silence fell at his words, and despite the distance, faint music could be heard from the field below the castle.
He had a sudden urge to be out there with Becket, listening to her, watching her, and sharing cat videos with her.
He wanted to hear her sing, and see how much of her mother’s abilities she had inherited.
He just wanted to be with her.
“I’m afraid we don’t know the events you are referencing,” Drake said, glancing around at the other wyverns. All of them but Baltic shook their heads. “And with all due respect, that had to have happened more than a millennium ago, and the weyr is in peril now.”
Yrian thought about what they were asking of him.
His gaze met that of Baltic. It had been two years since the latter had met him at the exit of his griefscape, and during much of that time, Yrian struggled with the madness inherent both in being separated from dragonkin and in grappling with the modern mortal realm.
Baltic had aided him as best he could, Yrian now realized, although he hadn’t been so understanding in the past.
“I apologize for the manner in which I dealt with you,” he told Baltic, getting to his feet, his precious phone in hand. “I was mad for a while.”
The corners of Baltic’s lips twitched, but he bowed his head in acknowledgment of the apology.
“I will not, however, allow more innocents to die because my attention was focused on the wrong threat. Kashi is infinitely more dangerous than Xavier. It is he whom I must attend to first. Then I will help you resolve the issue of the tribes, the weyr, and Xavier.”
Several wyverns protested. He hesitated at the door, his gaze once again on his brother. “You know of the events surrounding my destruction?” he asked.
Baltic gave an abbreviated nod.
“You may tell them,” he said, then marched out of the room, and castle, heading down to the field where even now the music swelled and lifted in the late afternoon air.
“What are you doing here?” Becket asked seven minutes later when he found her seated on a blanket with another woman.
He recalled the latter’s name was Billie, and she was part of Becket’s band.
The former had twisted around to look up at him, one hand shading her eyes from the lowering sun.
Her glamour was the same one she’d worn that morning—dark hair and eyes, and no freckles.
He missed those freckles.
“My youngest brother is explaining to the weyr why I must put Kashi first. You do not need to move—I will sit on the grass.” The last was said to the other woman, who grinned and told him she wanted to go watch some friends perform before leaving.
Yrian sat next to Becket, his gaze automatically searching the crowds for signs of demons. “Why do you hide your appearance?”
She looked momentarily startled, and it took almost a full minute before she answered. “I started using glamours when I was young. My mother warned me that I needed to hide my true self so that people wouldn’t take advantage of me. Or, worse, use me to harm others. Does it bother you?”
He thought about that while absently watching a couple of blue dragons skirt the edges of the crowd. “Not in the sense I think you mean. I do not mind any of the appearances you don, but I also like the one natural to you. I like your hair and freckles.”
She touched the thick black braid that wrapped around her head. “Have a thing for redheads, do you?”
“I didn’t know that I did, but perhaps it is so,” he answered, noting the arrival of three green dragons. “My daughter Nala joined the blue sept after I retreated to the griefscape. Some of her kin are over there behind the food stall.”
She craned to look around him, her arm brushing his as she peered at the green and blue dragons, now clustered together. “Do you want to tell me what Baltic is spilling to the others about your past? If I’m being nosy, just ignore that question.”
He examined her face. “My brother Kashi corrupted my mate, Amice. She betrayed me. With the help of our mother, Kashi slaughtered all of the members of my sept, two of my four children, and Iceni, the Life Mother.”