Dragon Heartstring(37)

He squeezed my hand. “Come on.”

Before I’d even shut the door, he was at my side, an arm protectively around my waist, the backside of my wings brushing his skin. As one, we burrowed through the crowd of reporters and protestors, Demetrius firmly moving people out of our path.

I stared straight ahead, but one KORC sign caught my attention: Volt guns are a human’s best friend.

The carrier of the sign, a lanky college boy wearing designer jeans and an expensive watch, shouted, “Go back to your own kind!”

I blocked out the rest of the crowd’s shouting and the reporters jockeying to ask me questions as Demetrius ushered me past security and into the courthouse where the noise dulled to the murmuring of senators, attorneys, and officials there to witness the proceeding.

I caught my aunt’s gaze the moment I looked around. She glanced at Demetrius then back to me and smiled. My father did not. Rather, he scowled at our approach. Knowing this wasn’t the time to introduce dear old Dad to my human lover, I stopped Demetrius with a hand on his arm. “I’ll be fine from here.”

His brow pursed together in that familiar frown. He glanced at the Icewing clan, then back at me. “Are you ashamed of me?”

Slapped with that very unexpected question, I flinched. As if I could be ashamed of him. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why not introduce me?”

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Because my father will want to ask you a hundred questions, and his mind will stray from the task at hand. I’ll have them over for dinner as soon as this is over.”

“Promise?” he asked before gripping my arms just below the shoulder. His expression darkened to that stern countenance he so often wore. “You know, you said something to me at Julian’s party that has never left me.”

“I did? What was that?”

“You said it was men like me who weren’t ready for a world where humans and Morgons mixed.”

I glanced down, shameful now of that accusation. “I was talking about the clinic.”

“No, you weren’t. But that’s okay. I wanted to clarify something now if I could.” He shifted closer, way too close for a public place. The fixed look of adamant in his eyes made my heartrate skitter faster.

“Demetrius.”

He gripped me tighter to keep me from backing away, pressing his body close as he leaned down, his lips hovering near mine. Flashes popped outside the glass doors where photographers swarmed.

“Demetrius, what are you doing?”

“I want to be very clear about something.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“No.”

“Everyone is staring.”

“That’s precisely the point.”

“Then tell me whatever you need to say.” The weight of the stares was almost stifling. And Demetrius never moved his gaze from mine, as if the world didn’t matter at all. Only us.

“You were right in one sense. There are some men who will never be ready for the likes of us.”

“Us?”

“You and me. Morgon and human. But you were wrong about me.”

“I know, I—”

“You meant it at the time,” he said, cutting off what would’ve been my sad apology. “But I want you to know right now, Shakara Icewing, that the world can go to hell and burn for all I care.” One hand slid beneath my hair, wrapping my nape. “You are mine, and I am yours. And that is all that matters.”

He crushed his lips to mine, much to the photographers’ delight as flashes went off like fireworks. The crowd of officials buzzed around us. I froze, petrified.

Demetrius simply pulled away, smiled down at me, and said, “I’ll be waiting here for you after.” He marched past the gathering of my clansmen, every one of them gawking, including my father. He said, “Good morning,” and gave them a courteous nod as if he hadn’t just planted an extremely inappropriate kiss on me for the whole world to see. No one said a word, just stared at him as he waltzed by. Then he passed his own father and members of the Chamber of Commerce and said “Morning, Father. Gentlemen.” He marched on with a lightness in his step and head held high as he entered the double doors of Parliament’s White Chamber, where all hearings and sessions took place. Everyone remained staring, stupefied, including me, until the doors opened behind us.

Lucius, Jessen, and Julian entered, Lucius with one wing wrapped around their son. They stopped at my side.

“Good Lord, what did we miss?” asked Jessen, scanning the hall. “Everyone is stunned still.”

“I’ll tell you later. Time to get going.”

Lucius leaned over and brushed a kiss to Jessen’s cheek. “We’ll be inside.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, but he walked away looking less than comforted. When Lucius was gone, she asked me, “Have you see him? Aron Grayson?”

“No. I’m wondering if he plans to come at all. He may send a representative of the business.”

“That would be a relief. Let’s go then.”

We strode toward my clansmen, my aunt at the head, and joined them as everyone piled into the White Chamber.

“You two will sit at the front with us,” Aunt Asheera told me with a squeeze of my hand. “Are you okay?”