Chapter Three
Aryal’s argument with New York’s commissioner of development escalated to Dragos talking to the mayor in a conversation that spun into excruciating politeness.
In the past, the mayor had always been accommodating to Dragos’s initiatives, even eager to please. But his reluctance to publicly partner with Cuelebre Enterprises on the construction of the proposed new sports stadium spoke volumes.
The mayor wasn’t an especially strong-minded personality, but as a career politician he was a decent weather vane. He always turned in the direction the wind was blowing, and lately the wind had not been blowing in favor of the Elder Races.
Never mind that the stadium would draw in a great deal of money from both sports and entertainment events. The political climate for interactions between humans and the Elder Races had grown cold and unfriendly.
Finally Dragos told him, “We need to table this discussion for now. I have other things that need my attention.”
“Certainly,” the mayor said with thinly disguised relief. “And I have a meeting I need to step into. Perhaps we can look at this at a later date and see if there is a group of human investors we can bring to the table.”
Dragos did not bother with pleasantries. Instead, he punched the End Call button, then handed the phone back to Aryal. “Scuttle the project,” he told her. “I’m done.”
He listened to what he had just said. I’m done. That had a ring of finality to it, and it felt like it covered a lot more than just the sports stadium. But he didn’t have time to think about that.
Aryal made a face. “You sure? You sank a lot of money into the plans.”
“I don’t care.”
She shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised. It was doomed from the moment you gave it to me. You know my skills are investigative. I don’t have the patience for this kind of political crap.”
Dragos did know, but all his sentinels were overseeing areas outside their expertise as they covered the space left from Constantine’s death. He would have already selected a seventh sentinel except that his son, Liam, had begged him for a year to prepare for the chance to compete for the position. Against his better judgment, he had agreed.
“It’s a moot point now,” he said shortly. “So forget about it.”
The truth was, his heart had never been fully committed to the project. He had pursued it because on paper it looked like a lucrative opportunity, but in reality, his instincts were pulling him in another direction entirely.
He had far more interest in his building plans for a new community in the Other land that was connected by crossover passageways to upstate New York. He had started that project to create a bolt-hole for the Wyr demesne in case relations between humankind and the Elder Races grew too strained, but what had begun as a contingency plan had quickly become an obsession.
Lately his thoughts kept returning more and more to that vast stretch of virgin territory. For an Other land it was immense, roughly the size of Greenland. He had sent expedition parties out twice, and so far they had only found three crossover passageways that connected to Earth and Other lands.
Just thinking of that place held a sense of freedom and opportunity he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. But instead of focusing on that, he had turned his attention to the stadium project.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been doing a lot of things wrong lately, following old habits and patterns. Working on the wrong things, missing vital cues. Saying the wrong things. He scowled up at the billboard Pia had pointed out to him earlier, then glanced around. Their entourage had disappeared several minutes ago.
“Now that that excruciating piece of business is over with, I’m going to track Rune down,” Aryal said. “I feel an intense need to give him a noogie. Plus we’ve got to decide where we’re going for his bachelor’s party after dinner.”
“Text me when you decide,” he said. “I’m going to our suite.”
She stuck her thumb up. As they headed in separate directions, wrongness snapped at Dragos’s heels.
He’s nobody. Ignore him. Wrong reply.
You’re so big you actually need my help this time. Wrong thing to say.
He hadn’t needed to see the hurt that had darkened Pia’s eyes to know that had been wrong. He had felt it as soon as it had come out of his mouth. She was so big she actually needed his help, and in fact she’d been making jokes about that herself.
But while Dragos would never win prizes for his insight into feminine outlook and behavior, he was beginning to suspect her self-deprecating jokes weren’t really jokes at all but an attempt to mask something that ran much deeper. This pregnancy was wearing on her—it was wearing on them both.
He wanted to growl and bite somebody’s head off. He wanted to savage the sense of wrongness at his heels, but it didn’t have a physical body. And he needed to put his arms around her and apologize for being an insensitive ass. To kiss her neck and feel her lean back against him and rub his face in her hair.
As he let himself into their suite, the first thing he noticed was the sense of emptiness inside. There was a white folded paper on the hall table. He picked it up.
Gone sightseeing. I’ll be back in a little bit. Have fun with Rune. :) Love you, P.
As he read it, he fingered one corner, eyes narrowed in thought. Why had she written a note instead of texting? Lifting the paper, he inhaled. It smelled like her, which was also wrong. The drug she had to take daily to save their baby’s life had changed her body chemistry.
Carefully, he folded the note and tucked it in his pocket while he reached out to her telepathically. No connection. Since they were in Vegas, that wasn’t terribly surprising. Still, he never liked having any of his abilities or inclinations curbed.
Pulling out his phone, he texted, What did you decide to do, and when will you be back? And after pausing, he added, Also, I’m an ass, and I’m sorry.
Then, while he waited for her to notice his text and respond, he strode out of the suite and went to join Rune and the others.
He found them in one of the Bellagio’s luxurious private gambling rooms. Aryal texted the information to him as he reached the elevator. When he strode into the room, he found Rune, Aryal, Claudia, Luis, and Duncan sitting at the poker table.
Three beautiful women were in attendance, two of whom hung on Rune’s shoulders while the third woman acted as dealer. Duncan’s fiancée, Seremela, sat beside him, although she didn’t participate in the game.
Everyone hailed Dragos cheerfully. Amusement suffused their faces. Dragos studied Rune’s handsome features. The gryphon’s hair was mussed as though someone had been running their fingers through it, and his skin was darkened—it looked like he was… blushing?
“Really, there is no need,” he said forcefully to the grinning women draped over him. “You are both very beautiful. Whatever she paid you, I will double it if you stop.”
Aryal and Seremela laughed harder.
“Oh honey,” Aryal cooed at the closest woman. “That’s okay if he doesn’t want you. I do. My mate is all the way back in New York, and my lap is lonely.”
Dragos suppressed a smile. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t even want to know,” Rune muttered.
“Yes, I do.” Dragos stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels while he waited for the explanation.
“Well, I don’t want to talk about it.” As Rune spoke, one of the women draped her arm around his neck. He pulled it off again and said to her, “What are you, an octopus? How many arms do you have—and where were you when I was unmated?”
Chuckling, Duncan said to Dragos, “Carling and Rune traveled separately. She got in last night.”
“We’re staying in separate suites too until after the wedding,” Rune said, frustration evident in his voice. “Although I don’t know why I agreed to that…. Ladies, come on!”
“You agreed because you thought a little abstinence would be sexy, but now you’re regretting it.” Aryal snickered. She told Dragos, “Carling set some booby traps for Rune before she went to bed. Literally, get it? Boob-y traps, ar ar ar. She paid all the single female servers to fawn over him. Whenever he goes anywhere, he gets mobbed by beautiful women.”
“I’ve been hiding in here playing poker ever since,” Rune said. His face was lit, and he looked happier than Dragos had ever seen him. He had to give Carling credit for that—she knew how to keep Rune’s cat nature amused.
Dragos said, “Want me to sit in for you?”
“No, no! That’s okay!” Everybody responded at once.
“Nobody ever wants to play poker with me,” he murmured as he checked his phone. No reply yet. “A pity—it’s my favorite game.”
The dealer told him, “Carling is hosting a roulette table in here. Of course, your gambling ban applies to anywhere else in the Bellagio and in Las Vegas, but in this room, you’re welcome to play roulette if you like.”
“No, thanks,” Dragos told her. Games with dice and rolling balls held no interest for him. Blackjack was okay in a pinch. No, he liked the math and the strategy involved in poker, the experience of looking into his opponents’ eyes and assessing their game—and then beating them. “I’ll watch the card game instead.”
Within a few hands, he had the probabilities sketched out. When one of the women peeled off Rune to serve everyone drinks, he ordered a scotch and checked his phone again. Still no reply.
A light bulb went off inside his capacious mind.
That was why she had written the note instead of texting him earlier. She had wanted to put some distance between them. She hadn’t wanted him to respond right away, and if she had texted he would have.
Was that why she hadn’t told him where she had gone?
He’s nobody. Ignore him.
Ah, of course. The light bulb got brighter. She hadn’t told him where she was going because she knew he wouldn’t approve. He had shut her down on the subject after all.
“Goddamn it,” he said abruptly, and the banter around the poker table paused. He tossed back his scotch. “I need to step out.”
“Want some company?” Aryal asked. She had coaxed one of the women onto her lap and looked as relaxed as the others.
“No,” he told her. “You’re not on duty. Stay and enjoy yourself.”
“Duty schmuty.” The harpy gave a casual shrug, but her gray eyes were sharply attentive. “Call or text if you need me.”
Aryal was a lunatic, of course, and she had the social skills of a buzz saw, but her instincts were as sensitive as butterfly antenna. He had always appreciated that about her.
“Goes for both of us,” Rune murmured.
Dragos dropped a hand on Aryal’s shoulder and gave Rune a nod. “Will do.”
As he strode out and made his way through the labyrinthine casino, his mood grew blacker.
What else had he expected Pia to do? She had done what he would have done, the most logical thing. When she couldn’t get an answer out of him, she had gone to find answers for herself.
As he stepped outside the main entrance, his phone pinged. He snatched at it.
The text was from Pia.
Of course you’re an ass. You’ve always been an ass. You’re a murderous monstrosity that should have been hunted down and exterminated centuries ago.
What. The. Fuck.
Dragos stopped dead as he stared at the small screen. That text wasn’t from Pia. A new landscaped unfurled in front of him, and in it everything was scorched black.
Rapidly he texted back. Where is my wife?
His phone pinged again almost immediately. Wife. LOL, isn’t that cute? Beasts don’t marry. They mate. They spawn. They make more monsters like themselves unless they’re stopped.
He punched the Call button, but all it did was ring. His hands shook and talons sprang out, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears so that he had difficulty typing out another text when all he wanted to do was crush the phone into powder, but his phone might be the only link he had to Pia.
And if this stranger had Pia’s phone, she might already be dead.
Wouldn’t he feel it if she had been killed? Wouldn’t he know something? He thought of the man on the billboard, and convulsive tremors ran through his muscles.
What do you want? He managed to finish and hit Send.
Again, his phone pinged right away. Good boy. Pat, pat. Now sit! Stay! And keep your phone with you. I’ll let you know what I want soon. Here’s proof of life. She looks tired. I don’t think you’ve been good for her. Or maybe that’s the monster pup she’s trying to whelp.
The photo was of Pia, standing on a pavement out in the sunshine. She wasn’t restrained or injured in any way that Dragos could see. She simply stood looking at the camera, arms wrapped around herself, her expression clenched and sober. Dark shadows circled her eyes.
She did look tired.
Instinctively he tried again to reach out to telepathically. Pia? Goddamn it, PIA, ANSWER ME!
There was no response.
His phone remained silent.
An agonized rage welled up inside. Like the birth of a tidal wave, it couldn’t be stopped. He had to release it.
Throwing back his head, the dragon roared.