Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(29)

“I know,” he said. “I’m doing the same. It’s driving me insane.” With a quick, impatient flick, he snapped the heavy chain that shackled one wrist. “I’m also beginning to realize how much I pace.”

“We’ll get you free.” She tightened her fingers, gripping herself hard. “Dragos, Eva brought up Liam. She wondered if he might be able to help you.”

His darkened gaze flared. “No! We’re not going to bring him into this mess.”

She jerked her head in a nod. “I had the same reaction. I could never knowingly put him in danger.” She searched his expression. “But what if we’re wrong? Your life could be at stake. Hell, mine and Stinkpot’s could be too.”

He shook his head, stubborn determination stamped on his rugged features. “We’re not there yet. Did you notice? The wound hasn’t gotten worse.”

Her breath left her, and she sagged. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t dare to hope.”

“I noted before—the ends of the streaks were just beginning to show at the edges of the bandage.” He held out his muscled forearm for her to inspect. “Look. They haven’t gotten worse. We’re holding our own.”

She sagged. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day.”

“Chin up.” Dragos’s voice had gentled. “Look at me.”

She lifted her gaze to his. He looked so wrong, with his fierce gold eyes darkened. It was like the sky going dark in the middle of the day. The sight made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck raise.

But his expression was all his, fierce and tender at once. Giving her a slight smile, he whispered, “I’m putting my hand to your cheek right now.”

The stubborn strength that had kept her knees locked threatened to give way. Closing her eyes, she whispered back, “I’m putting my arms around you, and leaning my head on your shoulder.”

“And I’m stroking your hair, and kissing you.” He took a deep breath. “And I am always, always going to hold on to you with all of my strength. Always, Pia.”

The adamant surety in his voice steadied her like nothing else could have. Following his lead, she breathed deeply, taking in the reality of him. Then she looked up at him again. “We’ll deal with whatever may happen next.”

His smile deepened, and she knew that he had gone back to the first time she had said it. “We always do,” he agreed. “Now, since I’m chained up here, and Quentin and Aryal have left, why don’t you go take a look at those maps and see how many areas this contagion has spread to?”

“Okay.” She nodded. “We need to know that. If it spreads too much further, they’re going to have to go public about this. I guess I can understand why they haven’t yet, but this might have grown into something they can’t control anymore.”

“If they continue to be reluctant to go public,” Dragos said, “then we will. I hate as much as anybody the fact that this appears to be yet another catastrophe instigated by the Elder Races, but people need to be aware of the danger. Too many lives are at stake. If there’s any political fallout from this, we’ll just have to deal with it later.”

“Understood,” she said. She searched his expression. “Do you need anything—anything to drink or eat?”

“I’m good.”

“I’ll be back soon.” She smiled and whispered, “I’m kissing you right now.”

He swore softly, frustration evident in the snap of his voice. “I’m kissing you too.”

With that she had to be content enough to walk away.

* * *

WWPD was not the only question Dragos asked himself. Sometimes he asked, What Would Pia Think? (WWPT?)

That question never failed to entertain him, because as smart as he was, and as good as he was at playing chess, he could never guess her thoughts with 100 percent accuracy. He imagined he could play the small mental game throughout the endless centuries like puzzling over an eternal Rubik’s Cube. He knew there had to be a magical combination that would unlock the entire puzzle, but he suspected he would always be doomed to failure.

Because they were polar opposites in so many ways. He was a predator; she was an herbivore. He was intensely male, and she was all woman. Often they didn’t laugh at the same jokes. Really, it was amazing they got along as well as they did. Sexual attraction helped, but it couldn’t be the entire glue for the relationship.

Somehow, magically, they clicked. She gave when he couldn’t—and he was honest enough to admit that she did it more often than he did. And when she couldn’t, he found a way to reach for her.

As he watched her walk away, he knew they had just experienced another point in time where their views divided, and he wasn’t even sure if she had been aware of it.

What he had said was true: too many lives were potentially at risk from this contagion. When she had agreed, he knew she had leaped to concern for all those who might be in danger, but he hadn’t.

People died all the time. They always had, and he cared about almost none of them. The dragon was not generous with squandering his emotions.

No, his concern about the increasing number of lives that might be endangered was strictly limited to two things. One was, how much danger did it mean for those few people the dragon did care about?