Smitten (15 page)

Chloe’s soft laughter was infused with warmth. “Yeah, me too. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though. The supposed immortality is only a sweet perk. The real prize is having all of you guys to spend it with me. Speaking of, looks like they’re coming back.”

“He certainly makes quick work of the skinning,” Ēostre murmured as she watched the two dragons return. “What does he do with them?”

“Leiv uses them for furniture and stuff. He makes a good chunk of change selling some of the stuff he makes.” Chloe leaned forward in her seat and waved at her daughter. “Astrid, baby, it’s probably time to go clean up.”

Still riding the high from her first successful solo hunt, Astrid pounced on her father’s tail and bit him playfully. “I got ya!”

Saul roared in pain, tossing his head back prior to flopping dramatically to the grass. “My one weakness. Chloe, save me! She’s gotten me!”

“He’s a terrible actor,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “But she falls for it every time.”

“My tail may never move again,” Saul lamented, hamming it up.

“Thank the Ancestors that he doesn’t star in his own productions,” Ēostre agreed.

“Save me, Chloe!” Saul cried out in mock anguish.

“Nope. This tiny human is going to stay over here where she won’t get trampled, thank you very much.” Chloe grinned at them and bit into another cookie.

Astrid giggled and kept up her playful attacks until her father, feigning his own death, flopped lifelessly to the earth, unmoving and holding his breath.

“Daddy?”

Saul didn’t answer.

Astrid scrambled onto her dad’s ribs to peer at his face, introducing Saul to her claws. It got him up in a hurry then, her talons sharper than needles, puncturing his tough skin.

Chloe and Ēostre both laughed at him. “How long until dinner is ready?”

“Leiv has the grill warming up as we speak. He’s a much better butcher than I am, anyway.”

“Why don’t you cook it with your breath, Daddy?”

“Because, little one, I haven’t completely mastered the fine skill of searing meat, and I’d prefer it not to be charred and leathery. Our fire burns much hotter than the grill.”

“I like my meat pink!”

“Then let Leiv cook it.” Saul chuckled. “Go on and get changed, now, like your mother suggested unless you plan to eat with your claws.”

“Aww. Okay, fine.”

Astrid scampered away and transformed when Saul’s back was turned. Her naked rear disappeared into the house for a shower as Chloe called out, “Don’t forget to wash the blood from under your nails! You forgot last time!”

“I won’t!”

“Why’d you fib to her? You do well enough when we camp,” Chloe pointed out after the door was shut behind her daughter. Years after their initial meeting in the mountains, the pair continued to take trips away on the weekends, and sometimes Astrid remained behind with Ēostre, granting her parents child-free time alone.

“I know,” Saul admitted. “Still, you have to agree that dragon-fired meat isn’t as good.”

“Nope. Give me your charred camp meals any day.”

Ēostre smiled at her son’s flabbergasted expression and stepped back to give the couple some room. The love shining in their eyes for one another brought to mind her feelings for Max. Feelings she still hadn’t admitted to.

“Mother?”

“I’m going to see to Astrid. I’ll meet you both at dinner.”

Chapter 11

The one thing voters loved most about Max was his willingness to share his prosperity with them. Sacramento’s Convention Center bustled with activity. Long tables yielded a bounty of chips, snacks, and drinks, while backstage Max and his campaign staff stood by, watching screens showing the waiting crowd as well as election results coming in from across the country. Earlier in the evening, he’d given a speech after a catered meal, in which he’d been very candid about his spending and his hope for America’s future.

The remainder of October had passed in a flurry of final preparations, interviews, and campaign speeches in a final bid to win the American voters. Ēostre had never been prouder of him, and even if the night ended without a victory, her thoughts on the matter wouldn’t change.

There was no denying it any longer. She loved the man so intensely it hurt and tore open the raw wounds left by Fafnir’s death.

Was it possible to have two soul mates? Fafnir was dead and there was no bringing him back, but Maximilian was living, breathing, and supportive as ever, hoping to atone for the sin of allowing Brigid to terrorize her son.

Deep down, she’d come to realize he truly did love Saul with all the affection he’d hold for his own son. With all of the affection he’d had for his own cub.

“I’ll return soon,” Ēostre said abruptly. She stood in a small group with Max, his running mate, and the man’s wife, chattering about incoming reports on the large screen.

“Where are you going?” Max asked. “The results should be in soon.”

“To make a call.” After patting his hand in reassurance, she smiled. “I’ll be back before you’re on the stage again.”

Once Ēostre escaped the noisy auditorium, she strode quickly down a corridor until she found a quiet, semi-private place to whip out her cell phone. Saul picked up on the third ring.

“Mother?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Maximilian, watching the polls?”

“Yes.”

“Please stop answering me with single-syllable responses. What’s wrong?”

Ēostre spun on her heels and paced for a second longer. Although she and Max were both of similar age, their gap no more than two centuries, she felt like a child… a cub with her first crush on an older, more powerful dragon. “Do you believe me when I tell you how much I have missed your father over these years?”

“Of course I do, Mother. You slept for decades as you grieved him.” His voice softened even more, and in the background, Chloe asked if everything was all right. “I don’t know,” he replied to his wife. “My mother sounds troubled. Here. Speak with her.”

“Saul—”

The phone transferred hands and Chloe picked up. “Ēostre? What’s wrong? Do you know something that the news hasn’t reported yet? We’ve been watching the entire thing. Oh my God, this is so exciting.”

“This isn’t about Maximilian, well it is, but not about the race.”

“Saul, I’m starved, baby. Would you get me another one of those tiny cakes Leiv made?”

“Of course.”

Seconds later, after her son must have left the room, Chloe’s excited outburst made Ēostre wince. “You love him, and you want Saul’s approval!”

The weight raised from Ēostre’s shoulders, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like crying. “I don’t want him to believe I’m replacing his father,” she admitted. “As if I have moved on and forgotten everything he meant to us both.”

“Ēostre, Saul would never believe that. He knows how you felt about Fafnir and had only the best things to say while you were hibernating. He loves you. Your son loves you so very much that the only concern he has is your happiness.”

“I know,” Ēostre admitted after a quiet sigh. “You are right. I should make the first step, tell him how I feel. I planned to do it tonight after the elections ended.”

“You shou— holy shit, he won! Ēostre, he won! Thompson is giving his concession speech!”

“What?” She spun around and cracked open the door. Wild cheers filled the hallway. “Chloe I need to—”

“Go on! You can call me later.”

“Thank you.”

Ēostre rushed back to the main room, the cacophonic cheers from the crowd overwhelming the patriotic music blasting from the speakers. Red, white, and blue balloons rained down from the ceiling where they’d been restrained by a net, and party poppers sent confetti fluttering through the air. The energy in the room was incredible, and it washed over her in a powerful wave.

On the stage, Max and his running mate were exchanging hugs and handshakes with their campaign staff. Ēostre had barely caught her breath when Max pulled her out from the side wings and lifted her from her feet, hugging her tight. He spun her in a circle before setting her down on her feet.

“You did it.”

“
We
did it,” he corrected her. His eyes gleamed bright in his exuberant face.

“Go on. Go say something. Everyone wants to hear from you.”

Max moved away from her and stepped to the front of the stage, closer to the joyous crowd. With a handkerchief clutched in her hand, Ēostre watched the group erupt into a fresh round of applause and boisterous cheers.

“Allow me to begin this by saying I’ve never had a more humbling moment in all of my life. Thank you for coming to celebrate this night with me. Thank you.”

The crowd cheered again.

“I want to thank each and every one of you who voted this day. Whether it was for me or the other guy, you chose to make your voice heard. But if you did vote for me,” he began, with a proud grin on his face, “I want you to know how much I appreciate your trust. Know that I aim to do my best to live up to the faith you’ve placed in me this day. It was a fierce battle to reach this point, and I give my respect to Senator Thompson for running an impressive campaign. I respect you, sir, and hope to have understanding between us in the future.”

The crowds cheers filled the room.

“Of course, I can’t forget to thank the man who stood by me through thick and thin, who worked just as hard as me during this incredible journey. The Vice President-elect of the United States, Kenneth Palmer.

“I’d also be remiss if I didn’t thank the mastermind behind our campaign. She’s been the rock that has grounded me when I threw out some pretty crazy ideas for the election road — my campaign manager, Ms. Ēostre Feuersturm.” Max glanced upstage and caught her gaze, his eyes burning with intensity, before returning his attention to the crowd. “Without her, none of this would have been possible. I am forever thankful for the brilliance and loyalty of my entire campaign team.”

Ēostre watched the remaining speech through the haze of triumphant tears. They’d won. In that moment, little else mattered beyond sweet success and the flutters of anticipation in her tummy.

“Thank you, America,” Max said to the crowd again as Palmer joined him at the front of the stage. The two men exchanged words and fond embraces before the cameras, and eventually the night wound to its end, and it came time to steal Maximilian away from his supporters and political acquaintances.

He looked so handsome, so sure of himself, exuding an aura of confidence unlike anything she’d ever experienced in his presence before. Before she knew it, she was blinking back tears again and smoothing her palm over his shoulder.

“Maximilian. Come with me,” Ēostre urged him. “Excuse us, ladies and gentlemen, but I do believe the President-elect needs his rest,” she called out. “It’s been a long, very thrilling day.”

Blinding camera flashes followed them from the convention center, but the man beside her grinned through every photograph.

Tonight was the night she would share her heart and hope, above all else, he felt the same way.

Frankly, she didn’t know who was guiding who to his car, and she didn’t care if the crowd continued their speculation about the newly elected president and his campaign manager.

Some journalists were already beginning to put her into the White House as Max’s first lady, and while the idea of it all thrilled her, her foremost concern was whether he wanted her at all.

Hoping she hadn’t read the signs wrong.

The drive home passed like a blur, and there were reporters camped on the sidewalk outside of the governor’s mansion, hoping to glimpse their future president. Max groaned as Andrew, their driver, slowed down to a crawl.

“Should I speak with them on the lawn?” he asked. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Absolutely not,” the security agent said.

“Agreed,” said the other agent in the front passenger seat.

Ēostre took their side. “No. You’ll do plenty of press conferences in the next few days after you’ve had time to rest.

“Should they see you entering beside me at this late hour?” The anxiety finally faded, giving way to a crooked grin.

“Actually. You’re right about that. I’ll see you inside, Max. Goodnight, Andrew. Goodnight, Carl.”

Magic surrounded her and she pushed her way through the portal into the formal parlor. As far as any of the reporters would know, Maximilian had returned alone. Even Lynette, his live-in maid, had taken the night off, making the evening ideal for her confession of love.

“Governor Emberthorn, Governor Emberthorn! Can we have a moment of your time!” a woman cried from beyond the waist-high black fence surrounding the immense property.

The security agents hurried him inside and took their posts. After the door was shut behind Max, Ēostre stole a peek through the curtains to see if the crowd was beginning to disperse. It would take some time before the last stragglers were gone.