Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(12)

You got it.

The foursome continued to the tarmac, merged with the Light Fae troops, and was swallowed up by the motorcade.

Dragos followed the motorcade until it reached the outskirts of Bel Air, the affluent neighborhood where the Light Fae Queen’s residence was located. When the car carrying Pia turned onto Tatiana’s street, his eyes narrowed at the barricade that waiting troops moved into place across the street. After putting the barrier into place, the troops stood at attention behind it, facing outward.

The Light Fae Queen’s residence was in the same neighborhood as those of celebrities, musicians and movie stars. Ronald Reagan had once lived in Bel Air, and so had Alfred Hitchcock. Tour buses traveling through the neighborhood were a normal way of life.

As far as he knew, blocking the neighborhood off was something new. It looked as though Tatiana was taking no chances with the Lord of the Wyr’s mate, an attitude that he approved most heartily.

He had watched and waited, and touched base with Pia, and indulged in paranoia. Now, there was nothing more for him to do but bide his time until he could talk to her again.

He had packed his laptop. He could go back to the motel to work. Or he could just take time off. It was rare for him to have free time on his hands. He could go fishing again, and fly over the coast and spend the week avoiding other people, and while he liked the sound of that quite a bit, his nitpicking, paranoid discussion with Aryal left him restless and uneasy.

He contacted Aryal again. Have you arrived yet?

Yes, we’re here, the harpy told him. Nobody’s gone insane and stabbed all of us yet. Pia’s in the guest suite unpacking, and we’ve got the suite next to hers. Tatiana is in a meeting, but she’s supposed to have breakfast with Pia soon.

What happened to the Light Fae troops in the motorcade?

They went wherever Light Fae troops go when they fly back to the home hive. They sort of dissipated and soaked into the woodwork, no doubt on the Queen Bee’s orders. Aryal sounded cheerful. But maybe they’ll still swarm back and stab us all to death, before any of us can yell to you for help. You never know.

He snorted. Your sense of humor can be damn odd at times.

All I’m really saying is, maybe this time, our paranoia really was just paranoia. Of all his sentinels, Aryal was the most prone to impatience, but she didn’t sound impatient now. She sounded kind. For now, everything seems fine.

He told her, Good enough. Report back later.

Will do.

He had drifted south and east while they talked, over the Bel Air Country Club. Abruptly, he made up his mind, chose a direction and flew for it. While the distance would take a half an hour or so to drive by car, or even twice that, depending on traffic, he covered his trajectory within a few minutes.

When he came to Rodeo Drive, he waited for a lull in the traffic. He didn’t have to wait long—traffic was unusually sparse for such a popular area. Then he dropped down and shapeshifted as he landed. Still cloaking tightly, he strolled down one of the most luxurious shopping districts in the world until he reached Van Cleef & Arpels. After admiring the jewels in the showcase, he strolled down the street to the next jewelry store.

He stopped at a few other jewelry stores, admired Cartier’s display, then he came to a uniquely Elder Races jewelry store named Songs of Fire.

He had only intended to window-shop, until he laid eyes on the firebird.

It was a necklace, very high-end jewelry, the kind of showpiece that would sell very rarely and only to a relatively select clientele. After just a brief glance, he knew the cost must be in the high six figures, if not seven.

The body of the bird rested at the hollow of the mannequin’s throat. Made of fiery diamonds and rubies, it was easily as long as his thumb. The bird’s eye was an emerald the size of his thumbnail. The wings swept up on either side of the mannequin’s neck, tapering off gracefully so that the tips came together at the nape.

He loved having Pia as his mate for many reasons. She was sexy, and funny, and smart and wise, and far kinder than he. She curbed his worst impulses, as much as he would let her, and having sex with her was so smoking hot, they burned up the air around them when they coupled.

And one of the things the dragon loved best was to buy his mate jewelry.

Because she was his.

So when he gave her jewels to wear, they were his as well. All his, forever.

He loved to f*ck her when she was wearing diamonds and nothing else. She was jaw-droppingly gorgeous when she wore jewels, all lush and naked, delicately pink in all the most private places, and sparkling bright. Pia was the crown jewel in the dragon’s hoard.

He struggled with his impulses, briefly, while part of him knew it had been a foregone conclusion as soon as he had laid eyes on the firebird.

After a moment, glancing left and right, he waited until passersby on the street were either walking or looking away. Then he let his cloaking fall away, opened the door and walked inside.

It was barely after ten o’clock, so the store had just opened for the day, and he was the only customer.

Good. He liked it that way.

As a tall, model-slim woman hurried into the store from the back, he said, “I would like for you to lock your doors while I’m here. As I plan on making at least one significant purchase, it will be worth your while.”

The woman was Light Fae and beautiful, with long, thoroughbred bones, skillful makeup and designer clothes. She also looked tense and unhappy. “I’m sorry, it’s against company policy to lock the doors during store hours.”