Me and My Shadow (6 page)

“Well, I can see I'm not going to have to break up a fight between you two, at least,” I said, moving nonetheless to stand between the two men.

“Aisling is near her birthing time. It is natural that Drake should be intolerant of other males around her while she is vulnerable,” Gabriel said, his hand sliding around to my waist as he made a little bow to Drake. “Had I known he was right outside the room, I would have allowed you to assist Aisling.”

Drake looked like he wanted to pick a fight with Gabriel, smoke issuing in little puffs from his nose, but Aisling put a hand on him and tugged him down onto the couch next to her. That seemed to do the trick, for his gaze left Gabriel for the first time, and he acknowledged my presence with a nod.

“May, you are welcome here. Aisling will enjoy your company.”

The exclusion of Gabriel in the welcome was pointed, but luckily amused him.

“We are not here for a social visit, although of course it is always a delight to see Aisling,” Gabriel said, turning the power of his dimples on her.

I nudged him with the tip of my toe, perhaps harder than was necessary, because he laughed and pulled a chair forward for me, taking another one just beyond my reach.

“And I thought Ash was jealous. Whew. Glad my Cecile isn't like you two,” Jim muttered.

Both Aisling and I gave it a glare. It took the point and rolled over onto its back. “Belly rubbles, Ash? Pwetty pwease?”

“You are here on weyr business?” Drake asked as Aisling, with a little roll of her eyes, scratched Jim's hairy belly.

“No. Our business involves Kostya. I could not reach him at his house, and thought you might be able to help us locate him.”

“He's been away,” Drake said slowly, his expression unreadable. “But I expect him back at any time.”

“Assuming the
sárkány
he called is still scheduled for two days from now, I would expect that he would be in town making preparations for it. Where has he been?”

Drake's gaze shifted an infinitesimal amount. “St. Petersburg, I believe.”

St. Petersburg . . . just a hop, skip, and a jump plane-wise from Riga, and Baltic's ruined stronghold. I slid a glance toward Gabriel, but his face was as impassive as Drake's. His emotions, however, weren't quite so subdued. A sense of quickening excitement nudged at my awareness, prodding the dragon shard to wake up and take in the surroundings.

“We will speak with him later today, then, when he arrives back in England.”

“He should be back by now,” Aisling said, glancing at the clock.

Drake shot her a warning look.

“What?” she asked him.

He made an aborted gesture.

“Oh, for Pete's sake . . . Gabriel and May are our friends. They know Kostya called the
sárkány
in order to get the black dragons recognized as a sept. It's not going to be any shock to them to know he's been trying to find Baltic's lair so he can properly take over as wyvern.”

Drake sighed, the fingers of one hand stroking her knee. “This is a serious matter,
kincsem
. Circumspection should be uppermost in your mind at all times.”

“Circumspection, my aunt Fanny,” she snorted. “I'm not going to play games with our friends.”

“Mate, I insist—”

“And that's another thing,” she said, rounding on him as best she could considering her bulk. “You've turned into Mr. Bossy Pants these last few weeks, and I'm really getting tired of it. I'm pregnant, Drake. I'm not made of glass, I'm not going to burst into labor if I do things for myself, and my mind is just as strong as it ever was. Jim, so help me god, if you say just one thing, I'll have May banish you to the Akasha for the next two hundred years.”

“Hey, all I was going to say is that I wouldn't be bragging about the state of your mi—”

“Silence,” I told Jim.

It shot me a glare, huffed to itself, and plopped down with a disgusted air.

Aisling and Drake were frowning at each other.

“If I correct you, it is because you are outside the bounds of weyr etiquette,” Drake told her.

“It's just Gabriel and May!” she answered.

“A wyvern, and a wyvern's mate.”

“They are our
friends
,” Aisling said, waving her hand toward us. “I feel perfectly within my right to say what I think in front of them, no matter what position they hold.”

“They are also opposed to my brother receiving the recognition he seeks,” Drake countered, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

“Your brother,” Aisling said, breathing heavily, “is almost as annoying as you are.
Almost!
”

Gabriel's lips twitched. I was having a similar problem keeping a straight face, but knew it would just make things worse if I laughed outright.

“You are being emotional because of the impending birth. I would remind you again that such outbursts are not conducive to the calming environment you seek for the event itself,” Drake said with maddening serenity.

Aisling gasped. “Are you calling me unhinged?”

“No, of course not—”

“You are!” She struggled to her feet, slapping off his helping hands, clutching the lap blanket to herself as she squared her shoulders and leveled him a look that should have dropped him dead on the spot. “That's it! I'm de-mating you! I'm filing for a divorce! I'm going to go back to Uncle Damian and have the baby there, where people think I'm sane and competent and don't tell me what to do every minute of the day. Jim, heel! You can come home with me.”

She stormed out of the room without a look toward us, Jim, still bound by my command to silence, trailing behind her. Drake, a martyred expression on his face, paused in the act of following her, saying, “She's a little emotional right now. You will no doubt forgive her.”

“The baby is only a few days overdue, I believe?” Gabriel asked.

Drake nodded. “The midwife has confirmed that all is well, but the strain of waiting is beginning to take its toll on Aisling.”

I kept the comment to myself that Aisling wasn't the only one being affected.

“You will excuse me. I must see to soothing her ruffled feathers before she books another flight to the US.”

“Another one?” I couldn't help but ask, trying not to smile.

Drake sighed again as he opened the door. “She threatens to return home daily now. It is becoming tiresome to explain to the airlines that the reservations must be canceled. If you wish to remain here for Kostya, you are welcome to do so. He is expected for dinner. I thought it would distract Aisling.”

I gave in at the expression of suffering on his face, although I waited for him to close the door before I laughed out loud. “Poor man,” I said.

Gabriel grinned. “It is unkind of me, I know, but I cannot help but think Drake has made his bed, and is finding it not quite so sweet to lie upon.”

I was about to agree with him when it struck me that perhaps he didn't mean it in the way I thought. “Aisling is putting up with a lot from him, too, you know. That overprotective act can be wearing to the nerves, and I can only imagine how annoying it would be to be treated as if one was made of glass.”

“And just how would you like to be treated?” Gabriel asked, walking behind me. His voice was rich with innuendo, causing my back to stiffen with sudden arousal. The dragon shard in me knew exactly what he was doing—he was flirting, teasing me, fulfilling a dragon's need to play with its prey. He walked in a circle, not touching me, but his eyes glittered with a quicksilver heat that left me short of breath.

“How do I want to be treated?” I asked, struggling to hold on to myself, the true part of me, not the dragon-tainted bits that were slowly, insidiously taking over my sense of self.

“Yes.” He pathed around behind me again, causing me to shiver with anticipation. The dragon shard stopped insisting I pay attention to it, and simply took over, allowing my body to shift and stretch and transform into a silver-scaled form that was so foreign to me, and yet so familiar.

“I want to be treated like this,” I said in a sultry voice I almost didn't recognize, and whipped my tail around one of his legs, jerking it toward me so he fell backwards onto the floor. Before he could protest, I was on top of him, licking him with fire, tasting him, wanting him, needing him to complete the self that waited so impatiently.

He growled deep in his chest, a mating sound that skittered along my body like a static charge. He, too, started to shift, but a noise at the door was followed by a soft voice saying in French-inflected English, “I have returned, although I could not find the pickle-flavored crisps you . . .”

I struggled to my feet at the sight of the man in the doorway who held a shopping bag from a prestigious store. “Er . . . hello.”

“René, is it not?” Gabriel asked, completely composed despite the fact that a strange man walked in just as I was about to have my dragonly way with him. I fought the dragon shard for control, slowly, inch by inch returning my body to normal. The man named René greeted Gabriel pleasantly enough, but he watched me with a decidedly wary look as the last of the silver scales shimmered into my normal skin color.

“It is a pleasure to see you again,” René said, his eyes flickering to me again.

“This is my mate, May. Little bird, this is an old friend of Aisling's, a daimon who has been of much assistance to her.”

Daimons were fates, I knew. I'd never actually met one before, although I thought it was interesting that they were occasionally assigned to individuals who they felt needed a little help.

“Including as a purveyor of hard-to-find delectables,” René answered, holding up his bag with a grin. “Drake, he refuses to leave her side, so it is up to me to bring the so-charming Aisling the food she craves most.”

“I thought pregnancy cravings were over by the time birth was imminent?”

He shrugged, a loose-shouldered gesture that made me think of smoky bars in Marseille filled with slinky women in loud-print dresses. “It depends on the woman,
hein
? I have seven little ones myself, and when the
maman
desires something, it is better to humor her, I have found. With my wife, it was macaroons. Always the macaroons. At all hours, she must have macaroons. Aisling, she has a passion for crisps of the most repulsive flavors, but it is not for me to deny her when she most desires them. I find the crisps just as I found the macaroons for my Brigitte. Did you say ‘mate'?”

Gabriel grinned as René gave me a thorough visual inspection. “Despite the curse, yes, she is.”

“But I thought . . . you are not a dragon, then?”

“To be honest, I don't know quite what I am anymore,” I answered with more than a touch of despair.

Gabriel took my hand, his fingers warm and strong, offering comfort. “Do not fight the shard, May. Control it as we discussed, but do not fight it. I will not allow it to consume you.”

René's eyebrows went up. “A shard? You do not mean . . .”

“I'm technically known as the Northcott Phylactery, yes,” I said, giving Gabriel's hand a squeeze to let him know I appreciated the support. “I'm a doppelganger, really.”

“A shadow walker? How very interesting. I have only ever met one other of your kind.”

“Ophelia?”

“
Oui.
You know her?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I gather she's having a rough time being on her own, but other than one or two conversations on the phone with her, I have no contact with any other doppelgangers. We tend to stay pretty much on our own.”

“Ah, you were not born,” René said, nodding his head as he figured out how we had gotten around the curse put on the silver dragons by the dread wyvern Baltic. “Very clever. And now you are here to help Aisling with the birth, Gabriel?”

“I would be happy to act as midwife, but Drake, I believe, would rather birth the child himself than let me near his mate.”

“Dragons,” René said, nodding, adding in an aside to me, “They can be very protective.”

“So I gather. Perhaps you can answer a question for me. Are daimons assigned to particular individuals, or can you be hired? I know Gabriel will feel otherwise, but I certainly feel as if we could use a helping hand—”

A racket exploded from the entrance of the house, a woman's shouts carrying loud and clear over a more masculine rumbling.

“
Cabrón!
Do you think I will be kept from seeing my grandchild? Move aside before I have my son throw you into the gutter where you belong!”

“Who on earth—?” I started to ask, but I asked it to an empty room, Gabriel and René immediately racing from the room. I followed, pausing at the door to take in the sight of a tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired woman chewing up István, who was probably double her weight, not to mention built like a truck. To my intense surprise, István was backpedaling madly as the tall Spanish woman yelled, her hands gesticulating wildly.

“Where is my Drake? Where is my grandchild?” She punctuated her sentences with blows to István's chest. “Stop running from me and fetch—”

The woman caught sight of us from the corner of her eye. She stopped hitting István and rounded on Gabriel, her black expression suddenly turning sly and sultry. “Gabriel!” she all but cooed.

Hackles I didn't know I possessed went up at the sight of her as she sauntered toward Gabriel, brushing past René as if he didn't exist, her hips swaying with an unmistakable message. My fingers lengthened into claws, but I curled them up, refusing to give in to the shard's demand that I deal with the brazen hussy who was going to be one very sorry person if she so much as laid a finger on my mate.