Resurrecting Her Dragon (Dragon Guard Series Book 13) (5 page)

Finally, just as Claire thought she might pass out from holding her breath, a low feminine voice, turned rough with age, asked, “Are you quite through in here, Malick, my dear? This is certainly no way to welcome your mate into our home.”

My dear? Mate? Lady, you’re as screwy as he is if you think that’s happening.

The sound of boots hitting a stone floor moved closer to her just seconds before the griffin responded, “Yes, Mother. You are absolutely right and I apologize for the noise.”

Mother? No way! I was sure he was the spawn of Satan.

“It is not me you should be apologizing to; it is your mate. Isn’t that right,
iníon
?”

Busted! And who does she think she’s calling daughter? Ain’t no way in...

Blowing out the breath she’d been holding, Claire slowly rolled to her side. Thankfully, her body was healing, but she still wanted to bitch and moan from the ache as she turned. It was nothing a long swim in the grotto in the healing caves of her mountain and twenty-four hours of healing sleep wouldn’t cure, but from the look on the face of the bane of her existence—aka Malick, the monster—
that
was not going to happen.

Refusing to look at the asshole who was keeping her from Rory a second longer than she had to be, Claire turned her gaze to Malick’s mother. At first glance, she appeared to be nothing more than a well-to-do billionaire’s widow. Fashion had never been Claire’s thing, but not even her lack of knowledge on the subject could deny the perfectly cut powder blue Chanel suit, matching Dolce and Gabbana kitten heels, and pearls adorning her ears, neck, and wrist rivaling the Queen’s own jewels, that Mrs. Slade wore with incredible panache. Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed and her well-manicured nails painted a dainty pink, but none of it outshined the power that rolled off the impressive woman.

Looking into Mrs. Slade’s midnight blue eyes, Claire saw a look she knew had come from years of getting exactly what the older female griffin wanted—whenever she wanted it. Malick may have claimed the title of King of the Griffins but it was his momma who ruled the roost.

The cunning smile and glint in Mrs. Slade’s eyes was anything but comforting as she added, “How are you feeling, dear?”

“I’m fine,” Claire lied, trying to make her tone as noncommittal and nonthreatening as possible, when all she and her phoenix wanted to do was call their fire, burn everyone in their path, and get to Rory’s side.

Simmer down, Sparky. It won’t do to get killed in the process.

Shaking her head and tsking, Mrs. Slade moved toward Claire. Taking a seat in the red velvet upholstered Queen Anne chair—that the real Queen’s bum had no doubt graced sometime during her reign—at the side of the bed the phoenix prayed was
not
the asshole’s, the female griffin patted Claire’s shoulder and said, “My name’s Sylvia. I’m Malick’s mother.” She paused and looked lovingly at her son. Claire thought about puking on the older woman’s perfectly polished shoes but decided that would not go over well at all, so she simply stared at Sylvia like she had three heads and hoped to wake up from the nightmare she was presently living.

Turning back to Claire, Sylvia turned up her charm and her smile to a full hundred watts, making the phoenix think of a slimy politician, before saying, “You might as well tell me the truth, dear. I can feel your pain. I may not be as accomplished a healer as you, but I am nonetheless a healer. Let me take away your pain.”

Your son is a pain in my ass. Does that count?

Clearing her throat to hide the smile from the personal joke she’d just told herself, Claire worked hard to keep a civil tone and responded, “I appreciate your offer. Really, I do. But I’m fine. Healing quite nicely.” Ignoring the pain in every fiber of her being to prove her point, the phoenix pushed herself up into a sitting position, scooted back against the pillows, and pulled the covers over her bare legs before smiling as sweetly as her hostess.

As soon as this bird is outta here I’m gonna pluck, skin, and maim whoever took my clothes.

Narrowing her eyes, Sylvia pushed at the mental blocks in Claire’s mind. The old griffin was formidable but definitely out of practice and no match for the years of training and raw power the phoenix possessed. Not to mention, Claire figured Sylvia wasn’t aware that she was only but a hundred or so years older than the phoenix. There was really no way she could know. It wasn’t public knowledge that phoenixes as a whole lived much longer and aged much more slowly than any other species.

And I’m keeping that one under my hat. No need to be petty. I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna be her favorite person here real soon anyway.

The secrecy and mystic surrounding the phoenix species was something Claire had hated when she was growing up. All her aunties and cousins, shifters from other avian species and members of the Clan of the Sun, had the freedom to tell stories about their origins, talk about their customs, and share pretty much anything with anyone they wanted to...but not Claire. She was born phoenix, which meant everything about her was a secret to everyone outside their clan and even some inside their extended family.

So forbidden that if any of the members of her clan tried to speak of Lugh’s favored bird to an outsider, their voice, as well as their memories, would be taken from them. They would be shunned from the clan and made to live a normal human life without magic, family, or their bird to call. They would always know something was missing, long for whatever it was they’d lost, but never find peace. It was something Lugh himself had decreed at the creation of the fire bird and something the Sun God still took very seriously to the present day.

Tugging at the oversized men’s pajama top she was wearing and once again silently promising retribution to whoever had the nerve to undress her while she was unconscious, Claire thought about pushing back against Sylvia’s intrusion but then decided such a show of power would only cause more trouble.

Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, “But I wouldn’t turn down a cup of tea.”

“As you wish,” Sylvia answered and with a single nod, dispatched the hulk, who Claire recognized as the man who’d thrown her bike into the woods and carried her over his shoulder, to fetch tea. Visions of his mammoth paws clumsily fumbling the fine china made her smirk just before movement behind Sylvia drew the phoenix’s eye.

There stood Malick, hands behind his back and at attention, apparently waiting for mommy’s permission to join the adult conversation. Claire wanted so badly to make a smart ass comment but bit her tongue and shook her head. There was a time and place for everything. She’d have her say and a few good punches along with it as soon as she figured a way out of Castle de Horrors. 

Claire looked back to Sylvia just as she began to speak. “I want to apologize for the overzealousness of my son’s guards.” The older woman cleared her throat and slid her eyes to the men positioned silently around the room before painting on a smile and finishing what she was saying. “Malick has dealt with them accordingly and I will be speaking with his brother, Zanus, personally. He had specific instructions that you were to be escorted to our home
unharmed
.”

Chuckling like they were old friends, the older woman touched the phoenix’s hand and exuded so much false charm Claire thought she might gag. “Raising four boys alone had its challenges, but I must admit that I am proud of every one of them. I do hope you and Malick start having children soon. I long to hear the pitter pat of my grandchildren’s tiny footsteps.”

FOUR?! There are four Slade monsters terrorizing the neighborhood. Well, shit. WAIT! WHAT? GRANDCHILDREN?

Not sure whether to burst out laughing or sob uncontrollably, Claire welcomed the interruption of the hulk returning with her tea. The phoenix inside her screamed for them to escape, pushing against the confines of Claire’s mind trying to break free and wreak havoc on their enemies, but the matriarch knew the time was not right. If she was going to escape with all her feathers intact, she was going to have use some finesse and a whole lot of bullshit. She just prayed Rory had time for her to give the performance of a lifetime.

Touching his mind again for reassurance, she pushed more mental healing through their mating bond and smiled as both man and dragon unconsciously sighed at the contact. She was pleased that the hellhound toxin was sitting dormant for the time being. After checking Rory’s vital organs one more time, Claire pulled away and focused on her
hosts
. It was time to come up with a way out of this mess.

Sipping her tea, she counted six guards, all griffin shifters from their scent and aura. It occurred to her that the two humans who’d ‘helped’ with her ‘accident’ were nowhere around. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’d been used because they were easily controlled and hidden by magic and just as easily disposed of when their usefulness came to an abrupt and all too final end. Claire prayed she was wrong but knew in her heart she wasn’t. Everything she’d learned about Malick said he was a cold-hearted bastard capable of damn near anything, and meeting his mother had only reinforced that belief.

A knock at the door broke through the painful silence. Hulk—as she was now calling the obscenely large griffin who seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades—took a package and a garment bag from a tall dark man who’d let himself in and was currently inspecting Claire like she was a lab rat.

“Damien,” Malick growled a warning low in his throat at the newcomer who had the decency to look embarrassed before turning on his heel and slinking from the room.

Ignoring Malick’s outstretched hands, Hulk hung the garment bag on the front of the wardrobe across from the foot of the bed and laid the box on the bed next to Claire’s leg. Before she could ask what was happening, Sylvia explained, “I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of picking out your outfit for this evening’s festivities.”

Choking on her tea, Claire coughed. “Festivities?”

“Well, of course, my dear, I want to introduce my future daughter to our clan and what better way to do that than with a party?”

“Your what? A party? Now, wait one minute. I appreciate y’all not leaving me in the ditch like roadkill, especially since you caused my accident, but there’s no need for a party cause I’m not mating your son.”

Leaning forward, Claire got as close as she could to Sylvia’s face to make sure her intentions were clear, leveled her glare, pushed power into her voice, and continued, “The choice is mine and there is no way in heaven
or hell
I’d ever have anything to do with the likes of Malick Slade. I’ve promised my fire to the light and that is where it will go.”

Without batting an eye, Sylvia smiled and chuckled. “Every girl is nervous about her mating day but I’m sure after you’ve gotten to know my Malick, you’ll see he’s the mate for you.”

Ignoring me will not get you what you want, sister...

Throwing back the covers, Claire ignored the pain that shot through her back and legs and jumped to her feet. Swaying just a bit but blaming it on her accident, she planted her fists on her hips and, instead of continuing her conversation with Sylvia, took two steps forward and glared at Malick. “We’ve had this conversation. I told you where I stood all those years ago. Hell, I even banned you from my land and put up a magical barrier to keep your mangy ass out. What more does a girl have to do to get her point across? Shoot you in the ass?”

Malick’s image blurred. Claire shook her head then widened her stance to stay on her feet as the floor shifted under her. The griffin took a step forward. Claire stood her ground as the room started to spin.

Okay, I shouldn’t have jumped out of bed. 

Tiny bursts of light flashed in her vision, followed by huge black dots as she tried to stay upright. Claire had to stand her ground. Had to show them who was boss. She would not be pushed around by the likes of these worthless griffins. Rory was her mate. She’d made her choice and they’d damn well abide by it as Lugh had commanded. Besides, there was no way she’d ever be saddled with the man responsible for totaling her favorite bike.

“Party’s over, asshat.” Claire’s speech was slurred and her vision fading but she powered on. “Give me my clothes and get the hell outta my way. I’ve got places to be and people to save.”

Stumbling forward, she made it three steps before Malick scooped her into his arms. The thought of slugging him in his smug face was so strong Claire doubled up her fist and swung, but instead of hitting him in the face, she barely tapped his shoulder.

Moving forward, Malick laid her back on the bed before stepping back. Hurling every curse word she could think of and a few she made up on the spot, Claire tried with all her might to get up, but her body simply refused to cooperate. Her arms and legs felt like lead and moved like rubber.

Squinting against the ever-growing dimness of her vision, she saw Malick and Sylvia smile at one another. The bastards had drugged her. Just before she lost consciousness, Claire heard the old bitty say, “Give her another dose in two hours then get her dressed. I have enough of the herb to keep her docile until your mating is official.”

Well, hell...that’s just not fair...

“W
hat do you mean you lost her?!” What had started as a low growl quickly turned into a roar that not only woke Rory from his drug induced coma, but shook the windows.

He’d barely gotten to shake the cobwebs from his groggy brain when Max’s bellow joined Rian’s. The only difference was the King was yelling in a mix of English and Spanish that was hard to decipher but thankfully ended with, “How the hell did you do that?!”

It was the first time Rory had ever heard Max lose his temper. The King of the Big Cats was always calm, cool, and in control. He’d been called Rico Suavé so many times a few of the younger dragons thought that was his name. The youngest O’Reilly brother had let them address the Leo that way just to see the look on Max’s face. It had been priceless.

But to hear Max lose his cool took Rory by surprise. He also had to chuckle to himself and admit that it warmed his little heart to know it was all on his account. On the other hand, he felt really bad for Kellan and Juan Carlos as they stammered and stuttered, trying to explain to their respected leaders what had happened.