Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(67)

She scowled. “That was a mistake. I already said that and apologized. I would also like to point out that if I had been a good little girl and followed every single thing you told me to do when you were throwing orders around, I might still be sitting in my cell. My initiative saved your ass.”

“I already said that too,” he said, eyes narrowed. He went nose to nose with her. “You’re deflecting. You really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

She backed away from him, rounding her eyes. “What part of ‘don’t ask me any questions about this’ gave you that idea?”

He followed, on the prowl, his body moving with liquid grace. “So, let’s see, what do I know? No lock can hold you, you’re an herbivore, you have to wear a dampening spell to appear human, and your mother was revered by the Elves.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. It felt like he was peeling her alive, exposing everything.

There was no mercy in that predator’s gaze. “You know, I felt the Power in your blood when I cleaned you off in the car. Then on the plain, when you put your hand on me, I thought you were going to knock me to the ground. But you weren’t sure it was going to work. It’s because you’re a half-breed, isn’t it? All those abilities are from your Wyrkind blood. You got them from your mother.”

She turned away and looked around the room. It seemed so much smaller than it did before. She went to the French doors, threw them open and rushed outside, desperate for fresh air.

That was just before she saw there was no railing or wall, just a straight, flat ledge to open air. Sharp whistling gusts of wind teased her hair. Everything whirled around her and started to tilt. Hard arms caught her and held her fast.

“Shit,” she said, shaking. She clutched his arm. “There’s no railing.”

“You did so well on the flight. I thought you weren’t afraid of heights,” he said. He pulled her back inside and kept one arm around her waist as he shut and locked the doors. He frowned down at her. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“I don’t have a problem with heights—when there’s a rail! Or a wall, or some kind of barrier!” She pointed out the window. “That’s a straight eighty-floor drop. Not so small a deal to someone with no parachute or wings.”

“Pia, the edge is a good twenty feet away now.” His hand was gentle as he rubbed her arm.

“I know that. Did I say I was being rational?” she said. Embarrassment and fright made her even more irritable. She found her balance and straightened out of his hold. There was a sharp rap on the door. Rune and Graydon walked in. She threw up her hands and snapped, “And does anybody in this place wait for an answer when they knock?”

The two men froze. They stared at Pia, with her disheveled blonde hair and furious face, pink thigh-length robe and delicate contoured legs down to the red-tipped polished toes. Then they looked at Dragos, in his black silk pajama pants, bare chest and blonde braid of hair on one dark wrist.

Dragos stalked after her as she stormed into the bathroom. She slammed the door. He put his hands on his hips and raised his voice as he told her through the panel, “We’re not through discussing this.”

The bathroom door yanked open. She snapped, “And my mother is none of your business!” She slammed the door again.

Dragos turned to look at the two men. Graydon, the brawniest of the gryphons, had begun shaking his head and backing out of the room. Rune just stared.

Dragos said, “What.”

“Who are you,” Rune said, “and what have you done with Dragos?”

He gave them his machete smile. “I had no idea this could be so much fun.”

Rune said, “We just thought you’d be ready to get on with your day. There’s a backlog of issues waiting for your attention.”

Graydon said, “We’ll go now and come back much, much later.”

“No, don’t bother.” He strode over to the serving cart and started inspecting the contents under the silver covers. One hid oatmeal with walnuts and apples. He covered it back up. The other had a pound of fried bacon and a half-dozen scrambled eggs. He picked up the plate and a fork.

He told Graydon, “Make us a pot of coffee.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Please.”

Graydon turned his head to the side and widened his eyes at Rune while he said, “Yes, my lord.”

Dragos settled on one couch, grabbed the remote and turned on CNN. He ate breakfast in quick, efficient bites. Rune sprawled on another couch. Graydon brought three cups of coffee from the wet bar.

Eyes on the morning headlines, Dragos said, “No more barging in.”

“Never again,” Graydon said. The gryphon had a fervent note in his voice. “We’ll pass the word.”

“The breakfast faerie has no doubt already done that,” Dragos remarked around a mouthful of bacon. “You two clowns just missed the memo.”

“The breakfast faerie.” Rune pinched his nose and coughed. Amused gold eyes met his, then turned back to the running ticker tape on the plasma flat-screen.

“What things need to be addressed?”

He finished his meal as he listened. They ran down a list of things, a variety of domestic, administrative, business and military issues. He responded with his customary decisiveness. The two gryphons started relaying his orders telepathically to the appropriate people.