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Smoky was in the living room, waiting for me. His eyes slid over me, and he let out a slow breath. "Camille…" He swept me into his arms and met my lips in a delicate kiss. "You take my breath away," he whispered. "Is it any wonder I can't get you out of my thoughts?"
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. Obsession was a scary thing. But it could also be a heady elixir, and Smoky's charm was a powerful spell. I felt like I was standing on a razor's edge, a web spun by three men, all of whom I loved—in one way or another—and I wanted each and every one of them in my life. Just neatly organized, not standing around beating their chests like some manic episode of Tarzan Gone Wild.
He tucked my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger in turn. "Dinner is served," he said, extending his arm.
The lump in my throat began to melt as my reluctance began to slide. Would it be so terribly bad to be the consort of a dragon? Backtrack real fast, I thought. Playmate was one thing. Consort held far too many implications. I was a soldier's daughter, not some lady of the manor. Feeling distinctly out of place, I rested my hand on his elbow. He folded his other hand over mine, then escorted me through the door opposite.
The kitchen was as large as the bedroom. A woodstove, polished to a high sheen, crackled with warmth. An old-fashioned icebox stood in the corner.
I stared at the icebox. "You have electricity out here in the barrow?"
"Does it look like I do?" He shook his head, grinning. "Think, girl. I'm white and silver dragon. I may breathe fire, but my magic's based in ice, wind, and snow."
Duh. Chalk one up for playing the airhead, I thought. And I couldn't even claim blonde as an excuse. As I looked around, I noticed a table against one wall. Carved from a solid block of marble, with two matching chairs, it was set for two. I wandered over to it.
"Old-world china, place mats, Waterford crystal… you don't stint, do you?" I held up one of the goblets and very gently ran my finger around the edge. It rang, loud and clear. "I suppose you've had a long time to collect all of this. How old are you, Smoky? How long have you lived out here?"
"I hope you like steak," he said, ignoring my questions. "I happened to be passing by a cattle ranch yesterday, and there was this plump heifer standing there…"
Blinking, I abruptly put down the goblet. "Yes, I like steak. You eating with me, or did you gobble yours down raw?" Somehow, I didn't think a twelve-ounce sirloin was enough to stave off a dragon's appetite. Even with baked potato and all the trimmings. Maybe with cheesecake on the side, I mused.
He snorted. "I'm offering you an elegant dinner here. Work with me, girl." As I stared at him expectantly, he let out a long sigh. "You're exasperating. I think that's why I love you. To answer your question, yes, yesterday I ate most of the heifer. After I butchered off meat for the steaks and for barbecued ribs."
"Barbecue? You like barbecue?" I took my place at the table, letting him slide my chair out for me. I wasn't trying to be difficult. To be honest, I just wanted to get outside and talk to Morgaine. I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Underground was not my favorite place to be.
"Of course. I especially like hickory smoke flavor." He dished up our dinners. A good thick steak, some fried potatoes. I had the feeling he didn't eat many vegetables. I could manage without the carrots and peas. I was just grateful he hadn't left the beef on the hoof.
All through dinner, he talked and I listened, feeling like I was in some surreal dream. The Cleavers with a warped twist. Except I didn't vacuum in pearls, and Smoky blew Ward out of the water.
"Saint George has been having a bad spell," he said. "Estelle had to sedate him twice last week. I wonder what makes a human snap like that. She said that, as far as she knows, he was like that from birth. Always off chasing windmills. And dragons." He touched his lips with his napkin. "Would you like some wine?"
"Thank you, yes." As he filled my glass, I examined the label. It was old and rare, probably worth thousands, and he was pouring it into our goblets like it was water. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my thoughts on the conversation. "Georgio is luckier than most in his condition. Which reminds me. Tomorrow I have an appointment to see Ben Welter. At three P.M. I can't be late."
"I'll make sure you get home in plenty of time," he said. "You need to leave at daybreak in order to talk to Delilah, I assume?" A faint glower washed over his face.
I nodded. "Yes. Smoky, may I ask you something?"
"Of course. I might not answer, but you can always ask."
I slid my knife through the steak. It was fork-tender and cut like butter. Taking a deep breath, I said, "What will you do if Shadow Wing breaks through?"
He shrugged. "Probably retreat to the Northlands for awhile. Why? Are you worried I'd leave you? Don't be. You'd go with me, of course, and your sisters. I'll take Iris, and Delilah's man, and I'll even take the fox, if you like. I might consider rescuing Trillian, but that depends on how he behaves—"
Cutting him off at the pass, I shook my head. "You know very well that we couldn't go. My sisters and I are the only defense between Earth and the demons. We made a pact. We're in this for the long haul. I was hoping you'd stay and fight on our side."
He blinked, staring at me silently. Finally, he said, "We'll discuss the situation later, should it become necessary. Now, finish your meal, love, and then I want you to go talk to that blasted sorceress. I have errands to do this evening. When you've found out what you need to, come straight back to the barrow. Wait for me outside if I'm not home yet. Whatever you do, don't go wandering off the path without me."
I slowly finished the last bite of my steak and wiped my lips, not sure what I felt. Smoky was an incredible lover, and I considered him a good friend, but his continual use of the word love was beginning to scare me a little. When we'd first met, he'd threatened to carry me off, saying no one could stop him. Had that been a precursor of things to come?>"Oh, I want you, Camille, make no mistake about that. And I always get what I want." He smiled then, so softly it frightened me. The smile of killers, of kings, of dark knights who rode in and lured away the princess from her prince. "But no, I will not fuck you. I leave that to Trillian. However, I will make love to you."
The cloud of tears threatened to spill over as I quivered, needing him so desperately I wanted to scream. I let out a choked cry.
"Don't you understand by now?" He slowly began to lower himself into me, and I let out a whimper as his flesh met mine, stretching me wide and deep. "I thought surely you would have guessed. I'm in love with you, Camille. And I choose you to be my mate."
He plunged then, driving himself deep, dragging me out of myself, onto the astral with him. As our bodies found their rhythm, our spirits coiled together, darting, dancing, sparkling with his every thrust, with my every reply.
And with one long, guttural cry, I understood what it meant to ride the dragon.
Chapter Fifteen
