Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(14)

Dragos tightened his hold on her fingers. “You need to eat.”

“Ten minutes,” she said. “I want the quick tour. I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes were sparkling and the color was back in her cheeks, so he reluctantly let her go. As the two women jogged up the marble staircase, Bayne appeared, strolling down the hallway.

As the sentinel on duty for the week, Bayne was in charge of all the security details. Instead of wearing his usual jeans, T-shirts and boots, which was the standard attire for all the sentinels at home in New York, the gryphon wore a dark gray suit, with a black shirt and tie. The outfit emphasized his large, tall build and short, tawny hair.

Dragos ran a critical eye down the other man’s figure. The excellent cut of the suit hid his weapons well. Bayne would be an acceptable addition at any except the most formal functions, and for those, he had brought a black tux.

As the other man reached him, Bayne gave him a nod in greeting. “One of my guards wanted me to apologize to you on his behalf,” the sentinel said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. “Rather profusely, I might add. So, he’s really, really sorry. What’d he do?”

Dragos blew out a breath through his nostrils in an inaudible growl. It was going to be a long damn week. “He almost took Pia’s hand to help her out of the car, and I snapped at him.”

“I see.” Bayne’s tone was neutral.

He shot the other man a look from under lowered brows. “Pia can get out of a f*cking car by herself. She doesn’t need males tripping over themselves to touch her. And in any case, I’ll be the one to escort her. At all times. You hear?”

Eyebrows raised, Bayne pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. I also sense there may be some, ah, underlying tension?”

Dragos strode for the dining room, and the other man fell into step beside him. Telepathically, he said, Keep this confidential. We’re trying to get pregnant, and yes, it’s brought back the mating frenzy. So, make sure everyone is warned.

Bayne began to smile. And I was worried this week might be boring. I’ll prep everybody to take care.

In the dining room, the long, gleaming antique mahogany table had two place settings at one end.

They lived very informal lives in upstate New York. Even when they stayed in the penthouse in Cuelebre Tower in the city, more often than not, Pia chose to cook. But here in D.C., appearances were everything. He noted in approval the gleaming polished silver, formal bone china, and heavy cream linen napkins.

Two uniformed staff were in the process of bringing dishes of hot food from the kitchen—pasta with sundried tomatoes and garlic in olive oil, a kale and artichoke salad, ham sliced fresh off the bone, roasted potatoes, and green beans garnished with something colorful and red, perhaps peppers.

“Set another place at the table,” Dragos told one of the servers. She nodded and headed back into the kitchen. He said to Bayne, “Stay and eat with us. I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing and what you’ve heard so far.”

“You got it.”

“Make that two places,” Pia said to the server from the doorway.

She and Eva walked into the room. At first Pia made as if she might go to hug Bayne—something that was perfectly acceptable under normal circumstances, and very like her usual affectionate style with all the sentinels—but Bayne took a nimble step back, and she jerked to a halt and redirected to pick up one of the place settings.

It could have been ridiculously uncomfortable, but dancing around sensitive mating issues was such a way of life for the Wyr, everybody adjusted smoothly, and within a few moments, they were all seated at the table and serving themselves from the silver platters of food.

“Almost all the other demesne leaders have already arrived,” Bayne said, as he piled ham onto his plate.

All of the U.S. demesnes had committed to coming—Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen from Los Angeles; Ferion, the new Elven High Lord from Charleston; Dragos, as leader of the Wyr in New York; Isalynn, the head of the witches demesne from Kentucky; Jered, the current head of the Demonkind assembly from Houston; and even Niniane, the Dark Fae Queen from Chicago, had come, despite the fact she spent most of her time in the Dark Fae Other land Adriyel.

Dragos shook his head. All the demesne leaders convening in D.C. at the same time. That had never happened before. To anyone paying attention, that alone said more than anything else about how seriously the demesnes were taking the human unrest.

He asked, “Did Julian come?”

“Well no, not Julian,” Bayne replied. “He’s still adamant about taking a year off from the political scene, but Xavier is here as Julian’s regent and Nightkind representative. From what I heard, Isalynn was arriving sometime this afternoon too. Tric—Niniane and Tiago got in last night. Eva and I had dinner with them.”

“We ordered a shit ton of pepperoni pizza,” Eva said with a grin.

Pia’s tired face lit with pleasure. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. How are they?”

“Really well,” Bayne told her. “All the fresh air and potential assassinations in Adriyel are good for Tiago. And Niniane looks happy. Only it’s more than that.”

“How so?” Dragos asked curiously.

Bayne frowned. “I guess I want to say she looks settled.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Pia smiled.