Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(40)

“Oh, Stinkpot,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

And so frightening.

This was the creature that carried the fiery Power that Liam had sensed. Those eyes, that coloring, were so like Dragos. If its personality was as fiery as its Power, it would have a royal temper. A temper that might even override all the instincts of its Wyr nature, instincts that would urge it to run and hide, or take the less obvious path to avoid detection and danger.

Swishing its tail, Stinkpot bent its head to nibble at the yellowing grass. While it acted like it was distracted, Pia carefully, carefully tightened her stomach muscles and leaned back to see if she could catch a glimpse between its slender, gangly legs.

Oh my God. Stinkpot was male. Delight, wonder and sheer terror clanged through her head like a three-bell alarm.

She whispered, “Are you okay if I pick you up now, darling?”

At the sound of her voice, Stinkpot flicked an ear but didn’t appear to be otherwise concerned. Moving slowly and gently, she twisted around to stroke his neck. His body was that of a newborn foal, but he carried the promise of power in the regal arch of his neck, and in the deep width of his chest.

He would be fast, she knew. Faster than almost anybody else, and he would be able to run for miles without tiring. She could see it all too well in her mind’s eye. He would be talented at running all right, but instead of running away from danger, he would run straight toward it.

Stinkpot shifted and reached, as if to nibble at another blade of grass. It also happened to bring his neck closer underneath her hand, so that she could scratch more skin.

“I see what you’re about now, young man,” she crooned gently. “And I already know that you’re going to like keeping your secrets. Are you going to be sneaky too like your daddy?”

He let out a whuffle, as if agreeing, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching around him, she picked him up and gathered him close. He didn’t protest or struggle. As she settled him in her lap, he folded those ridiculous, overlong legs and tucked his head in the crook of her arm. Bending over him, she buried her face in the thick, coarse hair of his mane.

Funny how love works. Peanut had stolen her heart, and she adored Liam with all of her being. Now Stinkpot stole her heart all over again.

Both her sons were thieves, yet somehow she felt her heart still in her chest, beating hard from wonder, and it was full to bursting.

A large hand cupped her hip, traveled up the curve of her torso and flattened against the middle of her chest. Dragos murmured in her ear, “Pia, it’s all right. You’re just having a nightmare. Wake up.”

As she startled, the dream vanished.

“Ssh, calm down.” Dragos’s voice was slow, deep and easy. He kissed the back of her neck. “Your heart is racing ninety miles an hour.”

“Mm,” she croaked, her voice rusty from sleep. Lifting her head off the pillow and squinting, she looked around to get her bearings.

They were in bed together, in her suite at Tatiana’s residence. The room lay in deep shadows, so it was some time in the middle of the night. Somehow she had lost her clothing, and Dragos had too. She knew who the culprit was for that. He spooned her from behind, under the bedcovers, his larger, harder body providing a protective shell around her.

Their position was so familiar, so necessary, that even though they were still in southern California, a sense of well-being flowed through her, along with a feeling of being home.

Stretching, she yawned and twisted around to cuddle closer against him. As she rested her cheek against his warm, bare skin, she let her fingers follow the pattern of dark, silky hair that fanned across his wide, bare chest.

He cupped the side of her face, cradling her, and she felt warm, relaxed, completely protected and surrounded.

“Does Tatiana know you’re here?” she mumbled.

“Yes.” His deep voice was a quiet rumble in his chest. “We both agreed the circumstances of the day had been unusual enough that nobody would have a problem if I stayed for tonight. Are you still up for visiting the rest of the week with her? We can call this whole thing quits and go home in the morning, if you’d rather.”

“And have to possibly come back again? Not on your life.” Yawning again, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “There’s only six more days to go, and then the whole damn thing is over. Although I shudder to think what tomorrow will hold. What do you think—flood, fire or act of the gods?”

He snorted and pressed his mouth to her forehead. “What were you dreaming about?”

Remembering, she smiled with a small wordless croon. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I was dreaming about Stinkpot.”

“Really?” A smile entered his voice. “I’m sorry I woke you, then. Your heart was racing so hard, it woke me up.”

“S’okay.” Rubbing her face against his skin, she murmured in his head, Do you want to know what I dreamed, or do you want to be surprised?

You can surprise me right now. Easing her gently back on the bed, he kissed her lightly.

Telepathizing in bed was one of her very favorite things to do. They could have entire conversations while kissing like horny teenagers. The only problem with it was she lost control of her train of thought. That, and often her verbal skills degenerated to things like: Holy shit, do that again. My God! Ah, so good … please—please—