Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(3)

He was the anomaly in the perfect suburban setting. He was a lion sprawling in the midst of a flock of plump, clucking pigeons, a dark, brutally elegant Mephistopheles taking a silent stroll through a placid country church, and some instinctive part of them knew it. A couple of the women looked frankly covetous. One in particular looked covetous and a little afraid at the same time.

As that described to a T the beginning of her relationship with Dragos, she understood exactly how that woman felt.

Pia didn’t like to think of the lonely days when she had been forced to steal from Dragos, leave her life behind and go on the run. Those early days before she and Dragos had developed feelings for each other were some of her most uncomfortable memories.

She had been so frightened of him. Then, when she had met him, she had been so frightened and attracted to him at the same time, she had been one confused cookie.

He had been just as confused—angry at the theft, mistrustful, and sexually drawn to her at the same time. When he had first found her and tackled her on the beach, he had fingered her hair while examining her with that laser-sharp focus of his, and his erection had pressed against her hip.

So, is that your long scaly reptilian tail, or are you just happy to see me?

It had been the first thing she had ever said to him.

How on earth did we find ourselves here, of all places? she wondered as she looked around.

All at once the humor in the perfect suburban scene struck her. As she walked toward their Cadillac Escalade, she found herself laughing and wiping her face at the same time.

On the trip home, Dragos remained silent.

Liam was full of excited chatter about his day, and the football practice, so he didn’t notice anything odd.

However, Pia was excruciatingly aware of how quiet Dragos was. Nerves closed up her throat, and she responded to Liam just enough to keep the boy’s momentum going, while she sneaked glances over at Dragos’s hard, unrevealing profile.

He still wore his sunglasses. He wasn’t hiding the expression in his eyes from her, was he? Biting her lip, she stared out her window at the passing scenery.

When they reached the house, they walked inside through the kitchen. Dragos told Liam, “Get yourself a snack. Your mom and I have something we need to discuss, so we’re going up to our suite. We’ll see you at supper.”

“Sure.” Liam glanced from Dragos to her. “Can I go swimming in the lake?”

Even though they had an Olympic-sized, heated swimming pool, Liam preferred swimming in the lake because he liked to dive for fish. Clearing her throat, she said, “Go right ahead. Let Hugh know, so he can go with you.”

“Okay!” He opened the door to the fridge and stuck his head inside.

Turning to leave, Pia walked through the ground floor and climbed the stairs on shaky legs. She knew exactly when Dragos left the kitchen to follow her, and not because she heard him. Even for such a big man, he could move in complete silence when he chose.

She could feel the heat of his Power when he came around the bottom of the stairs and drew closer. She picked up her pace until she was almost running down the hall. Leaving the suite door open, she looked around their untidy bedroom.

Clothes were strewn on the king-sized bed, suits for Dragos to wear, and her own outfits that she had laid along the edges of the bed and dropped various pieces of matching jewelry on top. None of her outfits were from Target, not for this trip.

She had forgotten that she was in the middle of packing. Sighing, she walked into her closet and dragged her largest suitcase off the shelf. As she walked back into the bedroom, Dragos stood in the middle of the floor, his hands on his hips, watching her. He had finally taken his sunglasses off.

Not quite looking at his face, she asked, “How long are we going to be in D.C. again?”

“I’m waiting on confirmation now, but it might be eight days, depending on when the demesne leaders meet,” he said. “You should count on at least a week.”

Packing for a week’s stay in D.C. wasn’t like packing for a week on vacation. She did some quick mental calculations.

She wouldn’t be attending any demesne meetings between the leaders, so she dismissed that as irrelevant. Seven days, with possibly three functions a day, meant she needed to think about taking as many as twenty-one outfits, and seven of those outfits needed to be evening wear. She might be able to get away with wearing the same outfit throughout the day, but she couldn’t count on it.

One of those evening functions was a gathering she and Dragos were officially hosting at the Wyr residence in D.C., but other than designing and approving the menu with the Wyr event staff last week, thus far she hadn’t had anything else to do except get ready for the trip.

Rubbing her eyes, she walked back into her closet, grabbed another suitcase and hauled it into the living room.

Other than his inky black eyebrows lowering in a frown, Dragos hadn’t moved. He said, “Stop that.”

“I can’t, not if we’re going to leave at eight in the morning.” She dropped the second suitcase beside the first.

“It doesn’t matter if we get a later start. Our first obligation isn’t until tomorrow evening.”

“The White House thing,” she said. Sometimes her life boggled her mind. Once, never in a million years had she expected to attend anything at the White House as an invited guest.

“Yes, the White House thing. Come here.” Quick as a cat, he snagged her arm and pulled her toward him.