Chapter Two Maxim
Chapter Two
Maxim
Driving on these strange roads in such poor conditions, I am very focused.
In truth, I am very skilled at driving in snow. I am Russian, raised in a dragon lair in the Siberian tundra, and one cannot always be on the wing.
Still, my cargo is too precious to risk.
Arms wrapped around her beautiful pregnant belly, my Zara is belted safely into the second row of seats in our SUV, tucked between Lucius and Ronin.
Neo—who knows these roads, as I do not—is riding shotgun beside me, while all the others occupy a third row in the very back.
Zara’s place is good for her, because she grows cold more easily while she is pregnant, and those two of our mates run hot.
I sneak frequent glimpses of my sovereign in the rearview mirror to make very certain she is safe.
Currently, my Zara is very safe.
She is drowsing with her teal head resting on the wolf’s shoulder, her gorgeous Hollywood face flushed with warmth and sleep, and Lucius’ strong arm wrapped protectively around her. He and Ronin are holding hands across her lap, below the gentle swell of her belly.
At once, I am warmed and comforted.
She is safe.
Our offspring are safe.
They are surrounded by warmth and love and safety.
“She’s perfectly well, Maxim. There’s nothing to fear.” Lucius holds my gaze in the mirror with his reassuring sherry-gold stare. “She’s merely resting. Incubating an Aries wolf pup and two dragonets requires a great deal of energy.”
The subtle tension knotting my shoulders loosens its grip and falls away. The jangle of concern in my head fades to a hum of contentment.
Lucius always knows how to comfort me.
I can be vulnerable with him—my teacher, my mentor, the only man I will ever bend for—in a way I am still learning to be with others.
Now I give him a serious nod. “She is nearly six months into her breeding time. So she grows tired more easily. Still, the midwife was not concerned with her travel.”
In the rear, Vasili hums in a way that betrays his own concern for our queen. We all know exactly how pregnant Zara is, nearly to the day.
All her alphas in this vehicle.
All the mates who have bred her.
But none more than I.
Because the gestation period for dragon shifters like Zara is eleven months, we are precisely halfway to the birth. The unpleasant symptoms of her early months have vanished, while the restless discomforts of carrying late-term triplets have not yet appeared.
With Zara’s wonderful body ripening and our polycule falling more deeply in love with her and each other and even with me by the day, every hour of this pregnancy is a precious miracle.
“Zara is well. We’d all know if she wasn’t.” Lucius’ tender arm cradles my sovereign’s shoulders. His strong hand rises to stroke her ponytail. “Eyes on the road, Maxim, if you please. We don’t want to miss the turn in this snow.”
My gaze veers at once to the thick curtain of snowflakes slanting past our windshield, illuminated in the beam of our headlights.
Our road burrows through a tunnel of darkness, fringed with an unbroken wall of evergreens, thick boughs heavy and sagging with snow.
We have not even seen a sign, much less a building, since we left the interstate.
Truly, the Colorado night has fallen.
It is Christmas Eve. A night that trembles with hope and possibility and magic.
“Do not be afraid,” I say firmly, raising my voice so my mates in the very back can also hear. “I grew up driving in snow like this. And we chose this vehicle wisely. I will keep you all safe.”
Every word I speak is true, because a dragon does not lie. I am thankful for the four-wheel drive and anti-lock brakes and all the safety features of this premium vehicle we have rented, because this winding mountain road has not been plowed.
We know that, love, Ronin murmurs in my head, just for me. Take a breath. You’ll be tucking into honey-baked ham and a nice rummy eggnog by the fire in no time.
Hearing these words, the drowsy dragon caged in my shifter’s skin raises his head with an interested rumble.
“That sounds nice,” I say to Ronin hopefully. “I am very hungry.”
“Dude, you’re always hungry,” Mordred calls from the very back, where the demon sits happily buried to the chin in parcels from our Wonderland shopping. Some of those gifts are for Mordred, but Ash is firmly preventing him from snooping.
“I am dragon,” I say with a shrug. “Therefore hungry.”
“Awww.” Now, clearly, that demon is teasing me. “You want a candy cane, blondie? Or a Christmas cookie? I got a big tin of ‘em in here somewhere—”
“Nice try, grabby hands.” Ash chuckles from his seat next to Mordred. “If Max wants cookies, you give that bag to me. I’ll get what he needs.”
“I will wait,” I tell them. This is easy for me to say, because my dragon wants much more in our stomach than cookies. “We are certain to arrive soon. Neo has said so.”
“I hope so. But I haven’t actually visited this property in years.
Not since I was a kid. That’s the whole reason I bought this phone.
” Neo is buckled into the heated passenger seat beside me, frowning over the unfamiliar mobile phone he purchased when we landed in Denver and trying to coax the navigation app to function.
“Too bad we don’t have a weather witch in this harem, huh?” Ash sighs. “That’s a Seelie gift, but it ain’t one that runs in the family. Sorry about that.”
“You have nothing for which to apologize,” Zephyr says warmly. “We would not exchange the Seelie we have for any other, my consort.”
“Aw, shucks, Sparrow. Happy to hear it.” Ash grins and slings a thick arm around Zephyr’s narrow shoulders in a hug.
Zephyr has not said much since he climbed into the car.
By now, it has dawned upon me that this dragon-riding Fae—raised from childhood on the wing—has never before ridden in a car.
Under the dim rear light, framed by the wall of our luggage piled against the hatch, Zephyr’s olive-toned skin looks nearly green.
With alarm, I realize he is very close to being carsick. But we all know better than to suggest such a thing to His Moon-Dazzled Radiance, Zephyr, the Dark Fae King. These days, the Dark Fae King can be very touchy.
He is especially touchy with Vasili, who is also seated in the back row. Fortunately, Vasili has turned his pale face toward the window and says nothing.
Ash and Mordred have placed themselves between Vasili and Zephyr, to keep those two as far apart as possible while they are quarreling.
Again.
For my part, I will be thankful when those two of our mates—Vasili and Zephyr—finally stop fighting and start fucking. I no longer take sides in this war for dominance that periodically flares between them.
They are two of the strongest kings our sovereign has mated, both of them vying to occupy the Throne of the First King. The one who is first among the queen’s mates. This volatile situation is further inflamed by the inferno of combustible sexual chemistry that smolders between Vasili and Zephyr.
Since Zara was crowned, the Throne of the First King has stood empty.
And nature, as they say, abhors a vacuum.
In truth, Vasili and Zephyr are deeply in love. Powerful allies against any threat to our sovereign or our mates. But they are, both of them, very proud. Neither will humble himself to bend for the other.
So those two have been intimate. But they have not fucked.
I know their infernal stubbornness frustrates my Zara.
Just as it frustrates me.
Beside me, Neo tugs off his knitted reindeer hat and tosses it aside with a groan. It seems our bookworm is also frustrated.
“Darn this thing.” He frowns over the smart phone’s tiny lighted screen, brow furrowed and eyes intent behind his spectacles. “I’m not getting any bars. So I can’t get through to my dad. I wonder if I got a bad SIM card.”
“Could be our girl’s amperage dicking with the signal,” Ronin suggests. “Happens sometimes when she dreams, doesn’t it?”
“Or one of the babies,” Lucius says quietly.
He sounds thoughtful, not worried, but I listen closely to what our headmaster is saying.
“Zara is an extremely powerful lightning witch. If that gene proves dominant in her offspring—lightning witchcraft—it’s been known to manifest in the womb.
Once the cerebral cortex has formed and the neurons begin firing—”
“There!” Neo cries suddenly. “The turn. Max, you’re driving right past it!”
Obscured by curtains of blowing snow, I have nearly missed the discreet wooden sign that reads Capital Peak. Private Residence: Invited Guests Only.
That sign is half buried in a huge snowdrift. There is not even a light.
With a curse, I tap the brakes and twist the wheel into the turn. The vehicle fishtails in the snow. Vasili hisses an alarmed breath. Without looking, I sense he is levitating from his seat, as though he will seize the wheel from my hands himself.
Deftly I turn into the skid to stabilize the vehicle. Tires churning in the unplowed snow, we swerve from the road onto a narrow track that burrows into a tangled thicket of spruce.
Before us, a narrow snow-covered lane slants steeply upward.
Cautiously, I steer the SUV into the center of the lane. We have slowed, but I am careful not to stop. Because starting again in this deep snow will not be easy.
“Bozhe moi,” I mutter as we bump along. “This road is not even paved. Is everyone well? Is Zara—?”
“I’m okay, big guy.” Zara pushes up to sit and rubs a mittened hand over her sleep-fuddled face. “We’re all okay. Are we there yet?”
“Not exactly. The chalet’s up at the summit.” Neo twists in his seat to check on our mate. “My dad’s big on privacy. He entertains the royals here—like us now, I guess. So we’re still a few miles out.”
“Got this whole property warded though, hasn’t he? Reckon we all felt that tingle, soon as we left the main road.” Ronin squeezes Zara’s knee to steady her as we sway on the bumpy lane. He swipes a hand over his steamy window to peer into the black night.