Smitten (27 page)

“Sir? Mahuika is on line three.”

Loki snatched the phone from the cradle and raised it to his ear. “Where have you been?” he hissed into the receiver.

“In a safe haven,” she replied calmly. “Has our plan caused Maximilian and Ēostre the turmoil we desired?”

“You’ve caused all of dragonkind turmoil!” his voice boomed. “What were you thinking by engineering an eruption and exposing us all?”

Mahuika’s laughter filtered into the phone line, further incensing him. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Loki. If we achieved our goal, then no price is too large. We’ve brought them both pain, after all.”

Loki inhaled a deep breath then leaned forward to prop an elbow against the desk surface. When he spoke, his voice was low, measured, but brimming with undisguised fury. “When I find you, I will scatter the pieces of your corpse from here to Hawaii.”

“You will do nothing,” Mahuika replied at the end of a haughty laugh. “You’ll blow smoke from your fancy office and despair, but I did what the rest of us wouldn’t. Maximilian would have exposed all of us in time, but I’ve dealt him a wound Fafnir’s mere return could never have caused. Do you want to know why you will do nothing, Loki?” She paused, husky voice filled with amusement. “Because you’re as good as dead, too, if the council discovers your treachery. I’ve done nothing but expedite his awakening, but you… you allowed a witch to violate a fellow wyrm’s soul. You stood by as she denied him a final rest in the beyond among our Ancestors, and that, my friend, makes your crimes outweigh mine by far.”

As Loki shook with rage, Mahuika ended the call. She’d gotten what she wanted from him, but little did she know, she’d also made a lifelong enemy.

***

“The formal impeachment inquiry failed, Max. Whether it’s by the merit of your speech or fear of reprisal, this won’t reach trial.”

“Was it close?”

“Not even,” Kenneth said. “Although I’m certain they would have had you when it came to falsifying records, the House appeared to be reluctant for some reason.”

Max slid back in the seat, exhaling a breath of relief. The tension left his chest at last and a weight raised from his shoulders, leaving his body with aches created from days of anxiety. “Gee, I wonder why,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“How long have you been in the office?” Kenneth asked. “Dragon or not, you look like crap right now.”

Max raked his fingers through his dark hair and tried to focus on the words floating over the computer screen. Between phone calls to foreign dignitaries, other dragons, council members, and shapeshifter leaders, it was all beginning to blur together as a never-ending stream of making nice.

“Did you even go to bed last night?”

Max grunted. “Nocturnal. I don’t like to sleep at night anyway.”

“When was the last time you’ve slept
at all
?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with honesty. Three nights ago when he and Ēostre retired to their bed, he’d spent most of those hours watching her peaceful breathing rhythm before inevitably showering, dressing, and returning to work.

“Go catch a nap then. The press conference isn’t for,” he paused to check his watch and said, “another five hours. Plenty of time for even a dragon to get some shut-eye. You don’t want the American people to see you with bloodshot eyes and dark circles, do you?”

“They’ll spackle makeup onto me,” Max grumbled.

“And that makes for a grumpy dragon.” Kenneth’s grin widened. “Go. Sleep. Find your first lady and cuddle her. I saw Ēostre moping in the rose garden an hour ago. Spend time with her if you won’t rest.”

“Moping?”

Kenneth shrugged. “She didn’t seem herself, Max, what can I say? We both know Ēostre’s usual sunny disposition has been impaired by the recent developments. And considering what you’ve told me about Fafnir, I can’t blame her. I lost my first wife to a drunk driver twenty years ago. I would be a wreck if she were brought back to me now.”

“I’ll go see her.”

After Kenneth stepped into the hallway, Max opened the door leading to the colonnade. It ran the perimeter of the rose garden and he only had to take a few steps to see Ēostre seated on the grass, enjoying a lonely picnic for one.

He should have been out there with her. Feeling like the world’s most neglectful mate, he stepped down from the walkway onto the manicured lawn. “Ēostre?”

“Oh, hello dear.” She aimed a smile up at him but it didn’t make her eyes sparkle as it usually would. “Done for the day?”

“No, but I happened to have a glance out the window to see you here. Where’s my invitation?”

She offered out a chocolate-dipped strawberry.

It seemed like years had passed since their wedding day amidst the tulips and fragrant roses. He checked out their surroundings then sat in the grass opposite her to enjoy the sweet confection.

“You’ll ruin your suit.”

“I have plenty more.”

A hint of her usual cheer flitted across her face, only to vanish as quickly. Her sadness inspired a swiftly building idea in his head.

“Join me for dinner, love. Let’s go somewhere and leave the White House for a night. Let’s see a movie. Let’s… enjoy an evening of time alone.” He took her hands between both of his and raised them to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

“Can we even do that? Get away, I mean.”

“It may take a few days to make the arrangements with the Secret Service, and for that, I apologize—”

“I understand,” she said, voice so soft he barely picked up the words. “It isn’t necessary, Belenos.”

“It is,” he insisted. “I’ll let someone know we’d like to have a romantic evening out. We’ll visit some local restaurant, come back for a movie perhaps.” He aimed a sly smile at her, realizing days had passed since he and his wife enjoyed anything but sleep alongside one another. “And move on to other activities.”

“I’d like that.”

His security team and their supervisors had other thoughts on the matter.

“You can’t give us a few days’ notice about dining outside of the White House, Mr. Emberthorn. We need time —
weeks
to arrange such an event.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I
could
simply go on my own and you couldn’t stop me if you wanted. I’m trying to give you the courtesy and respect of going through the proper channels.”

“Oh hell.” The man rubbed his face then leaned back in his office chair. Director Nichols, the head of the Secret Service, was a no-nonsense kind of guy with a gray goatee and serious, deep-set eyes. “All right. I get where you’re coming from. You could probably gobble me up if you wanted.”

Max grinned. “I gave up humans a long, long time ago.”

“Lucky us,” the man said, his dry tone brittle as a cracker. “The matter of your security isn’t an actual issue here. It’s the red tape. Can you give me a week?”

“Gladly if it means my wife can enjoy an evening on the town.”

***

It happened in two weeks, not that Max was counting. As the presidential motorcade cruised down the street toward a restaurant of their mutual choosing, he couldn’t help but feel a swift surge of pleasure. His mate was smiling again, and every second of it was radiant. He could have basked in it as if she were the sun, and in a way, she’d become exactly that for him.

Riding in the enormous, bomb-proof limousine had become a convenience, but he never appreciated the chauffeured ride until the moments when Ēostre sat beside him. Tonight, she was clothed for their date in a midnight blue, strapless dress, and designer flats that fit her like slippers.

His Ēostre never missed the opportunity to wear heels, and he’d become accustomed to her meeting him at eye level. Being the perfect height for receiving his kisses. On top of the unusual change, she’d let Chloe pamper her with eyeliner, foundation, and the whole nine yards. The woman beside him was transformed.

“Are you trying to go incognito?” he teased, nudging his foot against hers.

“Have you ever tried running in heels? I figured these would be more suitable if we decide to make a break for it.”

“Don’t let our agents hear you saying that.” Max laughed and relaxed back into the seat.

Police officers had blocked the street, and a counter-sniper team watched the approaching vehicle from the roof. They entered the restaurant through a tent and were taken to the upper level where a private table for two awaited them. Nearby, the management had arranged a table for his security detail.

“Hello,” Max greeted a few diners in passing. He smiled at an owl-eyed waiter and became the very model of goodwill, with a broad grin on his face for anyone who dared to glance up from their individual meal to look at them.

Max drew a chair out for Ēostre and took the opposite seat. “It’s good to see you happy again, love. Perhaps later, you’ll speak to me of what bothers you.”

A brief flash of guilt flared in her eyes. “No, Max, it isn’t like that. I’ve been worried, is all. The impeachment movement stressed you out so much.”

“And it’s behind us now,” he assured her.

Within moments, they’d tuned out his security team, letting him imagine it was only the two of them out on a normal date. They ordered appetizer plates to share and a bottle of wine, which came with prompt service. By the time their main courses arrived, he had Ēostre laughing like her old self.

“And then, Kenneth came in the office behind me and Spartacus decided it was time to begin singing about all the single ladies. Apparently, Lynette made him into a Beyoncé fan a few months ago.” Ēostre giggled into her linen napkin. “She thought if he learned the song, we’d get a move on the wedding sooner, but the stubborn bird didn’t decide to actually begin singing it until now.”

Max groaned. “I’ll have to reeducate him. They warned me having a parrot would be like having a child again, but I didn’t listen.” He imagined the bird chastising him in its gravelly voice that if he liked it, he should put a ring on it.

“Good practice, then.”

Once they were stuffed and unable to have even another bite, Max summoned the check and left a generous tip. It felt nice to pay for his own meal, to spend his own money on something frivolous, and to have a taste of the freedom he’d surrendered when chasing his dream to become president.

One of his usual agents, a lean man with thinning brown hair and a brown eyes leaned close to him. “Sir. We have a slight change of plans. We’re going to take you down through the kitchen and exit via the rear of the restaurant. ‘The Beast’ will meet you and Mrs. Emberthorn there.”

“Why?”

Agent Roberts smiled apologetically. “Slight dust up with a restaurant patron out front. Claims we infringed on his rights. Nothing serious.”

“All right.”

She’s so happy again,
Max thought, pleased with the night’s outcome. He didn’t let the security matter concern him again until they were stepping outside of the restaurant into the evening air. The balmy summer weather greeted them, contrasting the air-conditioned restaurant.

“Are we heading back or can we still see a show?”

“Hopefully they’ll allow us to enjoy the showing as planned—”

“We need you to get into the vehicle right away, sir,” Roberts said. “Security has been compromised.”

“Where?”

“Please get into the vehicle,” Roberts insisted. “We have no time to waste.” Another agent opened the door and gestured for them to enter, but Ēostre lingered beside the door, waiting for him.

When the agent attempted to help Max into the limousine, he found an immobile man unwilling to enter the vehicle. Exercising his inhuman strength required no effort for the stubborn dragon.

“Where?” Max repeated. “What’s happened?”

“Possible bomb in a parked car out front. You and your wife are our first priority at the moment. Bomb-sniffing hounds are en route, but we need to remove you from the area.”

His eyes darted from the stoic agent to Ēostre’s worried features. There was a tainted smell in the air, permeating the alley, and he could tell she smelled it too when her nose crinkled in distaste.

“What is that?” she asked.

“It…”

With an agent flanking them on both sides and many more occupying the narrow alley space, it made an ideal, secure area to usher the president to his vehicle in privacy without subjecting them to cameras and busybodies. But it also made for a cramped space.

The bomb wasn’t out front, and if it was, it was only a decoy. The real thing had been tucked into the alley right beside them.

“Move!” Max shouted, dashing toward the trash dumpster mid-shift. He burst from his clothes, sending shreds of a fine dinner suit and linen shirt in every direction. His necktie popped from the dramatic increase in width, and his tail batted aside the young man who was to his left.

The strong odor of oily plastic and tar filled his nostrils. A split second stretched like an hour, allowing Max to see everything happening at once — his screaming mate, the concerned faces of his security detail transitioning to raw fear in the presence of his dragon form, and members of the counter-sniper team above them gazing down with bewildered expressions.