Dragon Storm
Page 67
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Bael gestured toward the demons, who dropped Bee. She stumbled and fell to her knees. Constantine took the few steps to her side, and helped her to her feet. “Are you harmed?”
“Not really.” She stopped, rubbing her throat and making a wry face at the croak that had come out. She proceeded at a whisper. “But don’t do this. We can find a way around it.”
“Give me the ring, and you and the woman may leave,” Bael said, holding out his hand.
Constantine hesitated, then walked over to where his father stood. “My sword,” he said, holding out his own hand.
Bael flipped the sword and presented it hilt first with a little bow. Constantine, without another word, spun around and lopped off the right arm of both demons who had strangled Bee. He wished he could kill them as quickly; he knew full well that they would regenerate their arms in time, but this small vengeance would have to suffice.
They screamed and would have attacked had Bael not silenced them with a command. Constantine turned back to Bael, dropped the ring into his palm, and with a hand at Bee’s back, escorted her out of Abaddon.
Eighteen
“I can’t believe you did that. I mean, now Bael has two powerful tools.” Constantine hushed me as soon as I spoke, nodding toward the woman driving the taxi we’d caught on the outskirts of Paris. I was so furious, I was tempted to damn the driver and make Constantine discuss the situation with me, but I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I’d taken an oath to hide the dealings of the Otherworld from mortals whenever possible, and sat back to seethe silently.
That lasted for about five minutes, at which point I asked the driver if she spoke English.
“But of course!” She smiled, her gap teeth giving her a quirky look. “I drive around many English, you know? But not so many actors, like you.”
“Ah. Just so,” I said under my breath, giving Constantine a sidelong look. He’d used the excuse of being a sword-bearing actor on the way to a reality TV shoot, but he wasn’t looking out of the window as I expected. Instead, his gaze was directed inward.
Another five minutes slipped by before I asked him in Latin, “Why did you do it? The whole reason we went through the fealty ceremony was so that I wouldn’t be vulnerable to Bael.”
“Oooh, you speak the Latin, too?” the driver asked, watching us in the rearview mirror with a big smile. “It is not many people who speak it, is it not? Mostly it is written, but me, I have a penchant for languages.”
Constantine sent me a warning look, but said nothing.
I fretted for another ten minutes, creating and discarding statements varying from details about why it was the sheerest folly ever to give a power ring to a ruthless man who already had more power than anyone liked, to an acknowledgment of just how wonderful I thought he was for sending all of the other dragons out of danger so he could deal with Bael alone.
And it was that last thought that led me to the realization that Constantine wasn’t just a typical arrogant dragon, one who did whatever he wanted because of who and what he was. Constantine was… nice. The word resonated in my head, making me want to smile despite the desperate situation. He was not at all what I had pictured when I thought of the ideal man for me; he wasn’t even technically alive, although his dragon fire kept him warm just as if he were.
He was thoughtful, and concerned about others, but it was more than those traits that captured my fancy. I couldn’t decide if it was his quirky nature, or the way he shared both trials and joys with me, or if it was the fact that his eyes turned to molten gold when he looked at me. Possibly it was all of that and more, but I knew at that moment that I simply did not want to spend my life with any other man.
It didn’t hurt that the sight of him striding into Asmodeus’s ballroom with that big herking sword in hand was like something out of a Highlander movie—and it sent delighted chills down my arms just thinking about it.
“You’re a hero,” I said softly, causing him to send me another glance. I put my hand on his where it rested on his thigh. “My hero. And I’m very proud of you.”
He set the sword aside, turned and pulled me against him, his mouth finding mine in way that made me sigh with happiness. His kisses were sweet and hot and spicy all at once, and I was about to demand he give me his fire when I realized that my fingers in his hair were alight. I tamped down so the driver wouldn’t see (and I wouldn’t set the taxi on fire), whimpering more than a little when Constantine broke off the kiss.
“Change of address,” he told the driver, and gave her the street for the brothel.
“What—”
He kissed me again, shutting me up completely, but I wouldn’t have complained even if I could have talked. I didn’t even blush when the driver giggled and made a comment about lovers who couldn’t wait. In fact, I ceased to be aware of anything but Constantine—the feel of him under my hands, so warm and strong and very, very different than me. His fire threatened to swamp us both, but I kept it down during the length of time it took to get to Constantine’s rooms. It was a close thing, though.
He flung money at the cab driver, who laughed even harder when we both raced into the brothel. I was so inflamed by both my passion and a need that I felt deep in Constantine, I didn’t even stop to chide him about the fact that we should be meeting with the other dragons to give them the bad news and not racing to get between the sheets.
And a race it was, although at least I didn’t have to worry about keeping Constantine’s fire from sight in the brothel. As it was, we left a scorched trail behind us as we made our way to his room. He slammed the door shut and turned to me, but I was on him in an instant, pressing him against the door. “Dear goddess, I need you. Like, right now!”
“That is because you were taken from me,” he murmured in between kisses. I kept moving, trying to get him out of his clothing as quickly as possible, so he ended up kissing my temple, my cheek, and my left ear before he growled, “Cease tormenting me and stand still so I can kiss you as right and proper.”
I giggled. “Only a dragon could make kissing sound like it has rules.”
“I am a wyvern. Everything I do is of a superior nature,” he said, whipping my shirt off over my head before diving for my breasts. He nuzzled them, cupping my bra-clad breasts in his hands before blowing a line of fire between them.
“Not really.” She stopped, rubbing her throat and making a wry face at the croak that had come out. She proceeded at a whisper. “But don’t do this. We can find a way around it.”
“Give me the ring, and you and the woman may leave,” Bael said, holding out his hand.
Constantine hesitated, then walked over to where his father stood. “My sword,” he said, holding out his own hand.
Bael flipped the sword and presented it hilt first with a little bow. Constantine, without another word, spun around and lopped off the right arm of both demons who had strangled Bee. He wished he could kill them as quickly; he knew full well that they would regenerate their arms in time, but this small vengeance would have to suffice.
They screamed and would have attacked had Bael not silenced them with a command. Constantine turned back to Bael, dropped the ring into his palm, and with a hand at Bee’s back, escorted her out of Abaddon.
Eighteen
“I can’t believe you did that. I mean, now Bael has two powerful tools.” Constantine hushed me as soon as I spoke, nodding toward the woman driving the taxi we’d caught on the outskirts of Paris. I was so furious, I was tempted to damn the driver and make Constantine discuss the situation with me, but I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I’d taken an oath to hide the dealings of the Otherworld from mortals whenever possible, and sat back to seethe silently.
That lasted for about five minutes, at which point I asked the driver if she spoke English.
“But of course!” She smiled, her gap teeth giving her a quirky look. “I drive around many English, you know? But not so many actors, like you.”
“Ah. Just so,” I said under my breath, giving Constantine a sidelong look. He’d used the excuse of being a sword-bearing actor on the way to a reality TV shoot, but he wasn’t looking out of the window as I expected. Instead, his gaze was directed inward.
Another five minutes slipped by before I asked him in Latin, “Why did you do it? The whole reason we went through the fealty ceremony was so that I wouldn’t be vulnerable to Bael.”
“Oooh, you speak the Latin, too?” the driver asked, watching us in the rearview mirror with a big smile. “It is not many people who speak it, is it not? Mostly it is written, but me, I have a penchant for languages.”
Constantine sent me a warning look, but said nothing.
I fretted for another ten minutes, creating and discarding statements varying from details about why it was the sheerest folly ever to give a power ring to a ruthless man who already had more power than anyone liked, to an acknowledgment of just how wonderful I thought he was for sending all of the other dragons out of danger so he could deal with Bael alone.
And it was that last thought that led me to the realization that Constantine wasn’t just a typical arrogant dragon, one who did whatever he wanted because of who and what he was. Constantine was… nice. The word resonated in my head, making me want to smile despite the desperate situation. He was not at all what I had pictured when I thought of the ideal man for me; he wasn’t even technically alive, although his dragon fire kept him warm just as if he were.
He was thoughtful, and concerned about others, but it was more than those traits that captured my fancy. I couldn’t decide if it was his quirky nature, or the way he shared both trials and joys with me, or if it was the fact that his eyes turned to molten gold when he looked at me. Possibly it was all of that and more, but I knew at that moment that I simply did not want to spend my life with any other man.
It didn’t hurt that the sight of him striding into Asmodeus’s ballroom with that big herking sword in hand was like something out of a Highlander movie—and it sent delighted chills down my arms just thinking about it.
“You’re a hero,” I said softly, causing him to send me another glance. I put my hand on his where it rested on his thigh. “My hero. And I’m very proud of you.”
He set the sword aside, turned and pulled me against him, his mouth finding mine in way that made me sigh with happiness. His kisses were sweet and hot and spicy all at once, and I was about to demand he give me his fire when I realized that my fingers in his hair were alight. I tamped down so the driver wouldn’t see (and I wouldn’t set the taxi on fire), whimpering more than a little when Constantine broke off the kiss.
“Change of address,” he told the driver, and gave her the street for the brothel.
“What—”
He kissed me again, shutting me up completely, but I wouldn’t have complained even if I could have talked. I didn’t even blush when the driver giggled and made a comment about lovers who couldn’t wait. In fact, I ceased to be aware of anything but Constantine—the feel of him under my hands, so warm and strong and very, very different than me. His fire threatened to swamp us both, but I kept it down during the length of time it took to get to Constantine’s rooms. It was a close thing, though.
He flung money at the cab driver, who laughed even harder when we both raced into the brothel. I was so inflamed by both my passion and a need that I felt deep in Constantine, I didn’t even stop to chide him about the fact that we should be meeting with the other dragons to give them the bad news and not racing to get between the sheets.
And a race it was, although at least I didn’t have to worry about keeping Constantine’s fire from sight in the brothel. As it was, we left a scorched trail behind us as we made our way to his room. He slammed the door shut and turned to me, but I was on him in an instant, pressing him against the door. “Dear goddess, I need you. Like, right now!”
“That is because you were taken from me,” he murmured in between kisses. I kept moving, trying to get him out of his clothing as quickly as possible, so he ended up kissing my temple, my cheek, and my left ear before he growled, “Cease tormenting me and stand still so I can kiss you as right and proper.”
I giggled. “Only a dragon could make kissing sound like it has rules.”
“I am a wyvern. Everything I do is of a superior nature,” he said, whipping my shirt off over my head before diving for my breasts. He nuzzled them, cupping my bra-clad breasts in his hands before blowing a line of fire between them.
