Fire Me Up (13 page)

Drake's fire—usually carefully banked—roared to life within
him as I shot Jim a fulminating glare before turning back to the irate dragon
next to me. "It's not like the demon is making it sound."

"Did you know that you only call me 'the demon' when you're
pissed at me?"

I ignored Jim's attempt to bait me. Drake didn't have a
terribly passive temper, and if I wanted to avoid horrible repercussions to the
world as I knew it, I'd have to keep him calm so he didn't trigger a modern
plague epidemic.

"Someone stole the amulet I'm supposed to deliver, and my arm
got knifed in the process, Gabriel stopped the bleeding, then got my amulet
back. That's all there was to it."

"She was not hurt seriously," Gabriel added. "Otherwise
I
would, as is my duty, have taken her into protective custody."

I almost groaned, instead thinning my lips at Gabriel and
sending him a look that demanded he cease and desist,

Drake stiffened beside me, his voice as smooth and cold as
Italian marble as he said, "Aisling is my mate. Do you wish to challenge me for
her, Tauhou?"

Silence fell in the atrium, broken only by the faint chirping
of birds in a huge aviary that spanned one wall. Evidently the dragons had
reserved the entire restaurant, because there were no other patrons, not even a
waitper-son in sight. My breath stopped for a moment while I joined everyone
else to watch Gabriel. Then I remembered that I was there under protest and
wasn't the wimpy, weak sort of woman who allowed other people to make decisions
about her life.

"If anyone is going to challenge for me, it's going to be
me," I said, somewhat irrationally. "Now, can we stop this pissing contest and
get on with things? There's a poltergeist seminar I'd like to attend in an
hour."

Drake didn't move as I tried to tug him down into his chair.
His eyes remained locked on Gabriel. The latter smiled even brighter as he
glanced toward me, making a slight gesture of surrender.

"I do not challenge you for your mate, Vireo." I don't know
if everyone breathed a sigh of relief at Gabriel's words, but I sure did. Until
he went and ruined it. "Yet."

Drake made him a formal bow. "I await your pleasure."

"Oh, for heaven's sake.Can we stop with the manly ... er ...
dragonly posturing, please? No one is challenging anyone."

"Someone already has," Istvan muttered under his breath,
shooting me a look that could pierce cement.

Drake evidently saw reason (at last) because he gestured
toward the rest of the dragons. "Beyond Maata is Shing and Sying, elite guards
of LungTik Chuan Ren, the wyvern of the red dragons. Her mate is Li."

Li gave me a tight-lipped smile, turning solicitously toward
his wyvern. Chuan Ren wore a scarlet dress so heavily embroidered with gold,
pearls, hematite, and jade that it must have weighed a ton. The front laced up
to the bottom of her breastbone, leaving most of her chest exposed, her nipples
just barely hidden by the wide red ribbon lacing. It was sexy, scandalous, and
deliberately worn to be as provocative as possible, and I knew the minute her
assessing gaze passed over my rumpled, sweat-stained gauze skirt and blouse that
she dismissed me as being not worth her consideration.

"Your name, it is a man's?" she asked in nearly unaccented
English.

"No, my name, it is Irish. But very female." I rustled up a
polite smile before sitting in the chair Drake held for me, reminding myself
that all I had to do was sit and nod and just make it through the lunch without
Fiat throwing a monkey wrench in the peace talks, or the dragons starting a
plague on humankind, or Jim embarrassing me any further. Three little things,
that's all I had to do. Four if you counted getting Drake aside long enough to
warn him that Fiat was up to no good.

Drake snapped his fingers, and out of a dense clutch of palms
a waiter in black appeared, hurrying toward me with two plates of salad in his
hands. He paused before Jim, giving the demon a curious glance, but at a word
from Drake he placed the salad carefully on the table before turning to me.

Endive, arugula, and escarole scattered everywhere as the
waiter suddenly flung the plate down and threw himself on me, his mouth pressed
against my neck, his hands caressing me.

"Um," I said. Every single person at the table was staring at
me, eyebrows raised at the sight of a waiter slurping away on my neck while
groping my nearby available body parts. I scooped a few bits of greens back onto
the salad plate and lifted my fork. "So, how are the negotiations going?"

Drake cocked a glossy black eyebrow, his voice dry as he
asked, "Is there something you wish to share with us, mate?"

"Share?" I asked, my voice cracking as between kisses the
waiter murmured soft words into my collarbone, his hands sweeping upward to my
breasts. I plucked them off and put them back on my waist. "I haven't the
slightest idea what you mean. Oh, him?" I laughed a gay little Laugh. Or I tried
to—what came out was more than a little tinged with hysteria. "You mean this man
glued to my front? Think nothing of it. I believe my great and overwhelming
charm is overcoming men, and helpless against me, they—"

I stopped. I had to. Not even in my wildest, most unrealistic
dreams did I believe that it was plain old Aisling Grey who had men suddenly
powerless with lust. Something supernatural was going on, and I finally had the
sense to admit it.

Drake said something in Hungarian that had the waiter lifting
his head from my neck, but the rest of him was still pressed tightly against me.
He shook his head and refused to leave me. Drake insisted. I sat helpless,
embarrassed as hell, mentally going over everything I had done since arriving in
Hungary to figure out what it was that was making me irresistible.

"Never mess with a dragon's mate," Jim warned the waiter
seconds before Drake's fire flashed in his eyes. The waiter let go of me then,
flinging himself from me to run screaming from the room.

"I didn't know you could set people's hair on fire with just
a look," I told Drake.

He shrugged. "You never asked. Now let us see what it is that
is causing such trouble." His long fingers were warm on my collarbone as he
plucked out the chain holding the dragon talisman. Immediately, twelve pairs of
eyes lit up.

"No!" I said firmly, giving each and every dragon present a
quelling look. "It has hardly any gold on it, and it's not valuable, and it's
mine, you all got that? Mine! No one takes it!"

Chuan Ren looked closely at it for a moment before brushing
it away with her scarlet and gold-tipped fingernails. "It is the Qing dynasty.
Very poor quality."

"The talisman is not what is causing your difficulties,"
Drake said, his fingers dipping down under my blouse.

"Hey!" I said, momentarily scandalized before his hand
emerged with the amulet. I wasn't fooled, though. His fingers had done a little
extra touching while down in the Valley o' Breasts.

He pulled the thin chain- bearing the amulet over my head,
holding the piece up to catch the sunlight that streaked in through the palm
leaves, the amber and white crystal gleaming brightly as he turned it. "What do
the markings say?"

"I have no idea. My uncle thought they were Etruscan. The
provenance says the piece came from an Italian collector of Pompeian artifacts,
so it might well be—kind of a side interest, I guess."

"Allow me to see it," Fiat said, reaching for the amulet.

"No!" I shouted, leaning forward to snatch the crystal out of
Drake's hand. Fiat's eyes narrowed at me, his nostrils flaring with anger over
my apparent rudeness.

"I'm sorry, but no one gets to touch this. It's not mine to
share. It belongs to someone else, and until I deliver it I'm responsible for
its safekeeping."

"Aisling, Fiat has asked to see the amulet, not steal it from
you." Drake's voice was low and persuasive, but I wasn't going to allow it to
seduce me into handing over the amulet.

"I might be able to translate the markings for you, "Fiat
added, his lips stretched into a tight smile that didn't match the coldness in
his eyes. "I have some experience with ancient languages of Italy."

"Thank you, That's very kind. I'll be sure to tell the buyer
of your generous offer."

"Aisling," Drake said in my ear, his voice as soft.and
caressing as the fingers that stroked the back of my neck. "You are being
impolite. This summit is a time for the septs to put away their differences and
work toward common understanding. Your distrust of Fiat will unmake all the work
we have done so far."

I smiled at everyone, a great big smile, while hissing
awkwardly through my teeth at Drake, "Just how stupid do you think I am? Once
Fiat gets his hands on the amulet, I'll never see it again,"

"He would not dare take it from you." Drake's breath was hot
on my ear, sending little skittles of fire down my neck to shiver down my back.

My voice rose in indignation. The occupants of the table
watched with fascinated interest as I pushed Drake away and pulled the amulet
over my head, tucking it back down into my shirt before crossing my arms over my
chest. "Oh, he wouldn't, huh? Just like you wouldn't steal my aquamanile and
refuse to give it back?"

His fingers paused for a moment, then slid down my back in a
gentle caress that did nothing to reassure me. "That is different."

"Really? How is it different?"

"You gave me the aquamanile. You said you trusted only me to
keep it and the other Tools of Bael."

"I didn't give it to you. You took it. You stole it from me!
I just let you keep it. There's a difference."

"I grow weary of this," Chuan Ren said, pushing her plate
back. "Your mate shows much disrespect, Drake. Punish her, give Fiat the
crystal, and let us get on with more important matters."

I bristled at her demand. "Now, just wait a second, sister—"

She rose up out of her chair, her eyes huge with outrage. "I
am not your sister—"

"Mate, I must insist—"

"You want that salad, Ash? This diet is going to be the death
of me—"

All hell broke loose at that point. Literally. It wasn't just
the babble of voices as everyone at the table started talking at once, the
indignant demands from Fiat and his boys that I hand over the amulet, or the
screeching of Chuan Ren that signaled the opening of the portal to Hell. No, it
was the sudden appearance in the middle of the table of a man in hot-pink
fishnet stockings, matching leather corset, and turquoise feather tutu that let
everyone know that something was seriously wrong.

"Fires of Abaddon, Ilarax, what are you wearing? Don't tell
me you've gone transvestite!" Drake pulled me away as Jim put its front paws on
the table and snuffled the demon's nearest leg. "Aw, damn, it's true. You've
gone girly."

"What the—"

"Don't say it," Drake growled, clamping a hand over my mouth
as he pulled me backwards to the relative safety of a pillar framed with palms.
"Never say that word in the presence of an open portal."

"Guardian!" Chuan Ran shouted, pointing her finger at me.
"Close this portal immediately!"

The demon in drag squawked, its voice shattering the water
glasses on the table. From a shimmering area at its feet, dozens of tiny little
pink and turquoise creatures burst forth, scampering over the table, leaping
onto the chairs and the floor with tiny little eek-eek yips.

"Man, he's gone and tinted his imps to match his costume."
Jim jumped off the table, shaking its head as it walked toward us. "Now that's
the sign of a demon needing some serious therapy time."

"Imps?" I said. "You mean they're real? They're not some sort
of weirdo Otherworld joke?"

"Do they look like a joke?" Drake asked, shaking a turquoise
imp off from where it was gnawing on his shoelace. When the little creature made
like it was going to return to his shoe, Drake narrowed his eyes and allowed a
little smoke to trickle out of his nose. The imp squeaked in horror and ran to
join a few of its brethren in an attempt to push a crystal glass off a nearby
table.

"Do you want the honest answer, or the thoughtful and erudite
one that I as a future Guardian would give? Jim! What in heaven's name are you
doing?"

Jim's head whipped around to look at me, two tiny turquoise
feet twitching between its lips. Jim gulped, ran its tongue around its lips, and
blinked innocently. "What?"

"Bad demon! You're on a diet, and besides, it's not nice to
eat imps! They're kind of cute even if they are a bit troublesome—" Three pink
imps succeeded in knocking a water goblet over, dancing a happy little victory
dance around the soggy tablecloth. One of them stopped in front of me, turned
around, and bent over until its pointy little chin touched its knees. "Oh my
god, did that little monster just moon me?"

"You were saying?" Jim asked, sucking its teeth.

"Guardian!" Chuan Ren bellowed. Two of her men were
struggling with the demon, but it was clear to see that against the minion of
Hell the dragons didn't have a lot of power. "Close the portal. Now!"