Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(112)

Every ounce of Dragos’s formidable energy had been focused on taking Urien out before the Fae King had a chance to draw on his considerable Power and fight back. He hadn’t seen Pia get shot, but he had seen her bolt hit Urien high in the shoulder. It hadn’t been a killing shot, but it was enough to distract the Fae King for those few final seconds as Dragos and the sentinels dove down to the attack.

They had all seen her give Urien the finger. The sentinels made much of it as they sprawled on the couches with their feet up on the furniture, ate pizza, drank beer after beer and watched SOAPnet.

“I like that evil twin,” said Graydon, pointing his bottle at the flat-screen. “The other one’s too sickly sweet. Nobody’s that nice.”

“Fuck, no,” said Constantine comfortably. “But you gotta admit, that actress is smoking hot. You think they’re real?”

“Doubt it,” said Graydon. “They’re too globular.”

Constantine nodded. “I can handle globular.”

“Pun,” said Graydon. “Groan.”

Pia looked at them over the top of the Cosmopolitan she was thumbing through but refrained from comment. She supposed it could have been worse. At least they were more or less housebroken.

She was curled on one end of the couch, tucked under a light silk throw. After she had started to feel steadier, she had been able to convince Dragos to go take care of a backlog of things, but that only meant she had a steady, rotating stream of sentinels as visitors. She hadn’t had a moment to herself since the kidnapping.

When she complained to Graydon, he told her, “It’s just a precaution, cupcake. A few of Urien’s Fae are still being hunted down, and that Elven connection we were hunting for has disappeared. Damnedy damn it.” He snickered.

“I can’t believe he told you guys that,” she said. “I’d just twisted my ankle and was having a bad day. I wasn’t responsible for what came out of my mouth—or head.”

“You handled yourself like a pro,” he soothed.

“Yes, I did. I kicked ass,” she grumbled. “And anyway, I’m in the Tower penthouse. This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Nobody’s hunting me anymore. I’m sure not going anywhere right now.”

“Yeah, but you gotta remember,” said the gryphon as he tapped her nose. “You scared the shit out of the boss. He’s not used to fear. If you don’t let him fuss, I think he might blow up. You scared the shit out of us too, by the way. Besides, you’re family now and we’re having fun. It’s like a vacation.” He winked.

Family. Wow.

“Okay,” she muttered. She tried not to wiggle for joy and pretended to still be grumpy, but she gave him an affectionate smile.

A depressed Tricks came to thank her for her part in killing Urien and to say good-bye. The faerie was leaving to be crowned Queen at the Dark Fae Court. She had had the lavender dye stripped from her hair and no longer wore it with a perky flip on the ends. It was its natural raven black. Pia was surprised to see how much it changed the faerie’s appearance and made her look more serious.

“Please God, come visit soon,” said Tricks. “Don’t abandon me to the Dark Fae Court. We’ll do lunch again.”

She groaned. “Okay, but next time let’s do without the Piesporter and cognac.”

Tricks gave her a sly one-sided smile. “We’ll see.”

Pia told her, “I’m going to miss you.”

The faerie threw her arms around her. “I’ll miss you too.”

Lunch sometime with the Dark Fae Queen. Invitations to visit with the Elven High Lord and Lady. How strange her life had become.

On impulse she asked, “Did you find somebody to take over your PR job?”

“No,” said Tricks. “There hasn’t been time. Why, do you want it?”

She lifted a shoulder, feeling self-conscious. “Maybe I’ll talk to Dragos about it. You know, when I’m up for it.”

“Whatever you decide, you keep that dragon twisted around your little finger,” the faerie advised with a giggle. “It’s his karma after so many centuries of being the center of everybody’s universe around here. It’ll do him a world of good.”

Another visitor came one afternoon. Pia looked up as Aryal threw her six-foot body onto a couch beside her. The harpy’s black hair was tangled again, which seemed to be its usual state. She wore low-rider jeans, a sleeveless leather vest and the requisite sentinel weapons.

Pia studied her as Aryal fidgeted. The harpy’s odd gaunt beauty had nothing to do with dieting, and while lanky, her body was sure cut. Pia looked at her arm muscles and rippling stomach, thinking of all the hard work it took to look like that. Not in this lifetime.

Aryal glared at General Hospital playing on the flat-screen and jiggled a foot. She picked up a Harper’s Bazaar, thumbed through a few pages and tossed it aside. Pia thought she heard the harpy mutter, “I’m no good at any of this girlfriend shit.”

She raised her eyebrows and wondered if she was supposed to say something.

Aryal looked at the TV. She said, “Can you believe it—first, the witch Adela sold you a binding oath, the next day she put a tracking spell on you for Dragos and this week she contracted with the Dark Fae to find you. You turned out to be quite the cash cow for her.”