Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(22)

Graydon’s thoughts must have followed in a similar vein, because he said, “You all went crazy when you mated. I may want a mate, but I don’t want to go crazy.”

Dragos smiled wryly. “I may remind you of that someday.”

“Yeah well.” Then the other male said, wistfully, “Don’t suppose you could tell Rune all this and apologize.”

“Things cannot return to what they were, Gray,” he said. “Even if I were to apologize—even if Rune apologized for his part in creating what happened—we cannot go back. Maybe we can find a new definition, but he will not ever be my First again. That time is done.”

“Well,” said Graydon. “Suppose I had to ask.” He sounded disappointed but not surprised. “Do you mind saying—why me?”

Dragos considered. “Because not only do I trust you but Pia does too. It matters to me that she loves you, and that you’re close to her. I want you to talk to her if you ever feel the need. I know she’s young, and she may not have experience with administrative shit, but she has more understanding and compassion for people than I will ever have. I think that may lend us a stability that Rune and I didn’t achieve in the end.” He smiled. “She won’t let me be too hard on you.”

His rugged face sober, Graydon said, “Thank you for telling me.”

Dragos nodded to him. “Let me know when you’ve decided.”

“I’ve decided,” Graydon told him. “I’ll do it.”

They talked for a few more moments, then the gryphon took his leave, and with that Dragos reached his limit on meaningful talks for the day. He needed out. Out of the crowded complex that was filled with so many vulnerable creatures and such a strong scent of blood. Out of the crowded city.

He left the building and launched into flight, and let the burn of the icy winter air take him until solitude gave him a measure of balance. He would stay in the air until darkness covered the land. Then he could hope to find peace with Pia, in a dream.

He supposed this was love. The thing of it was, he had seen examples of love that were twisted, small-minded and unhappy, so he wasn’t quite sure. The immensity of experience he had with Pia was so much more than that.

When they came together, he felt a deep knowledge in massive bones that were as old as the Earth. The knowing was a vibration that altered the fabric of his existence. It became the sound that mystics claimed was the absolute reality in the universe. Having never, ever embraced mysticism, he thought he must have gone more than a little mad.

She was his, his only true treasure and one possession, and part of what created that trueness was that she chose it too, and she claimed him, and he was hers. What existed between them was active and passionate and elemental, a hinge upon which everything else pivoted.

A Prime, indivisible. That pure, that strong, that essential.

Without this, he had nothing. Everything else might cease and pass away, but this one thing would never fail. And the rest of his life became as if seen through a glass, darkly.

• • •

Since he knew Pia’s true Name, bringing her into a dream was easy. Still, he took time with this one and worked to get the details right, brushing them into place with his mind like an artist putting the finishing touches on a painting. Then he cast it out, an invisible net woven with Power, and he went to sleep himself and waited.

Part of him marked the passing of time even as he drifted quietly. Then he felt her presence slide into the dream, and he came alert.

The setting was cool and quiet, and a light, delicate wind blew. He had recreated the subtle hues of night.

She was outside. The light, musical tinkle of bells danced through the air. “What the . . .” she said, sounding disoriented and puzzled. Then she laughed, and the sound was more beautiful than the bells.

He smiled, rose from the couch where he had been reclining and lifted the flap of the tent to look out.

Sand dunes rippled underneath the silvery cascade of moonlight. Several feet away from the tent a small oasis of water, little more than the size of a comfortably large hot tub, was surrounded by a collection of ferns and palm trees, which didn’t make any ecological sense, but still, the scene was pretty.

Pia stood on the path between the tent and the oasis, looking down at herself. Pleasure washed through Dragos. She was a symphony of the precious colors he loved the most, silver, ivory and gold, and those gorgeous sapphire eyes. Her loose hair rippled down her back, and the harem outfit he had devised for her to wear was skimpy in all the right places. Bracelets and anklets of tiny bells adorned her graceful wrists and ankles, and her slender, arched feet were bare.

She looked up, still laughing. “You made me look like a belly dancer . . . oh my. Oh, very much my.”

“What?” he said, strolling toward her with a slight smile. He was barefoot as well. He wore a simple linen robe that wrapped and belted at the waist, with thin cotton pants underneath. “The belly dancer outfit was my favorite part.”

“How very sheikh-ish you look.” Her face tilted up as he neared, and her midnight-colored eyes were wide.

He played with her jewelry, letting the dangling earrings slide over his fingers. The heavy, gold linked necklace at her neck was shamefully erotic. It highlighted the delicacy of her throat and collarbones, and evoked the concept of bondage. He said deeply, “You should wear jewelry more often.”