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“You look beautiful. Now go in there and wow them. Just watch that mouth of yours, and whatever you do, don’t let on you have the unicorn horn.”
Cripes. She was right. Smoky was good about not swiping it from me but other dragons might not be so circumspect. I lifted up my skirt and unbuckled the garter that held it strapped to my leg. “Hide this. Please. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Delilah took it and gave me a nod. “I guess you’d better get in there.”
I steeled myself and marched back into the kitchen. Smoky gave me a nod of approval as he cast an eye over the clean clothes and my tearless face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as I looped my arm through his. Morio patted me on the butt as I passed by and I tossed him a wan smile. This wasn’t the way I’d envisioned meeting the in-laws, but then again, nothing in our lives ever seemed easy. Taking a deep breath, I allowed Smoky to lead me into the living room, right into the dragons’ lair.
I had no idea what to expect, and my first impression was one of sensation rather than sight. As we entered the living room, the power struck me like a sledgehammer, almost knocking me down. It was as if I were looking at two pillars of fire—one white, one golden. And they all but blinded me. When I blinked, in their place stood a tall—so very tall—man, and a woman whose beauty was so brilliant that it almost made me crash to my knees.
The man looked a lot like Smoky, but his hair was pure white instead of silver, and his face was craggy and far more rugged. He didn’t look old, but he felt ancient beyond counting. I had no idea how long this dragon had roamed the earth, but Smoky felt positively youthful compared to him.
He was at least seven feet tall, and broad-shouldered. His face was stubbled with whiskers the color of fallen snow, and his skin was even more translucent and milky than Smoky’s. The dragon’s shoulders were broad, and he wore a flowing robe made of what looked like silk. Silver embroidery adorned the crest on his pocket. I could barely look into his eyes, they swirled with pale blue and hoarfrost and the sparkle of snow.
Catching my breath, I turned to the woman. She felt about Smoky’s age, but her skin was warm and tanned and she stood a good six foot three. Her hair was the color of spun gold and fell to her waist, and she was built like a brick house. Sturdy, muscled, firm large boobs, narrow waist, thighs that could crush me like a coconut . . . oh yeah, she was fine. Her eyes gleamed as golden as the rest of her, and she let out a hearty laugh with full, luxurious lips. She was wearing a red robe that revealed as much as it covered, and had belted it with what looked like a gold-plated waist cincher. Nope, not even our most incredible beauty back home in Y’Elestrial could have competed with this nightmare of fantasy.
Smoky felt me waver and steadied me with a discreet hand. I sucked in a deep breath and waited for his cue.
“Father, may I present my wife, Camille te Maria.” He used my surname as it was known in Otherworld. “Camille, this is my father. Sir, what name shall I give her to use for you?” Of course. I still didn’t know Smoky’s real name. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to be offered up his father’s name.
His father gave me a look that froze my blood. Nope, he wasn’t happy. So not a happy camper. Big Bad Mean Dragon. And I was suddenly afraid that the big bad mean dragon might eat me. And not in the good way. I didn’t even want to think about him eating me any other way.
“I share my name with no human. None are worth even a throwaway name.” The man’s voice was cold and, in my gut, I knew his heart was frozen against me. I scooted closer to Smoky, who wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “You dishonor your true fiancée by bringing this woman into our presence.”
I took a shuddering breath and tried to keep my mouth shut. The female dragon laughed aloud—her voice rough and unpleasant. She took a step forward and leaned toward me.
“You dare to call yourself the wife of Iampaatar? How terribly amusing, but how terribly forward. You can’t even bear children for my fiancé.” She spit out the words as though she found speaking to me distasteful.
Iampaatar? I glanced up at Smoky, who looked ready to kill. “Is that your name?” I whispered.
“No,” he said evenly. “It’s my name to the world of the Northlands. I left it behind when I left the family dreyerie behind. My name is Smoky.” He gazed at the woman. “You assume far, far too much, Hotlips.”
Hotlips? Oh great, the perfect name for the perfect man-stealer. But by the sound of his voice, he wasn’t compliment ing her.
“Hotlips? Lovely, but at least you give me the respect of not mentioning my Northlands name in front of the slut.” She snorted. “And just what do I assume wrong? Looks to me like you picked a fairly ordinary trollop, my husband-to-be.”
“You’d best rein in that nose of yours before someone chops it off.” Smoky was glaring now, and I knew he was pissed because a cold breeze right off the Ionyc Sea bore down on us, chill and bone-numbing.
I tried to edge out of the way. The last thing I needed was to be caught between dueling dragons, but Smoky didn’t give me that option; he pulled me tighter to his side.
“Camille is my wife. We’ve undergone the Soul Symbiont ritual, so this woman is also my soul mate. She is not fully human, but half-Fae. But be she mortal or immortal does not matter. The fact is that I love her and I’ve chosen her to be my mate. That’s all either of you need to know.”
Smoky’s father let out a low growl and strode forward. He grabbed me by the wrist and flung me to the side, his touch rough and angry. I tripped over the footstool and scrambled out of the way as he raised his hand and landed a blow across Smoky’s cheek that left a red weal. The slap would have broken my neck.
“That’s for your back talk.” He backhanded Smoky again, and I stared as Smoky stood, taking it, not raising his hand in retaliation. “The second is for insulting your fiancée. She’s one of your betters.”
Blood, stark against the pallor of Smoky’s skin, trickled down from one nostril but my lover ignored it. He stood there, shoulders back, and slowly shook his head. “She may be your better but she is not one of mine. You’re a white wing, but I am born of a silver mother, and I bear her status. The golden wings are of worthy caste, but not of my stature.”
Hotlips’s eyes flared, but she said nothing, bowing her head in accordance.
“You dare to contradict me in front of a human? What a failure of a son you are! Have you forgotten every duty you owe your family?” Smoky’s father hit him once again, this time hard enough to leave a small gash on Smoky’s cheek from a silver ring the dragon wore. It looked like a wedding ring.
Again, Smoky took it, not raising his hand in return. But his eyes were swirling. “I no longer recognize your dominion over me. I would willingly serve my family if my family listened to me. But you have no idea what’s going on down here. You care only for your own gain through this . . . this . . .” He gestured toward Hotlips. “. . . this political alliance.”
He turned to the golden dragon and said, “You are being used, my lady. I will not demean you, but know this: I am not the husband you seek. An alliance with me may increase your family’s holdings as well as my own, and yes, it will increase my father’s honor and the honor of any children you bear. But the fact is, I do not love you. Like my grandfather before me, I refuse to marry out of duty. Beyond all of these issues, there stands another brooding matter. War is coming, and you have no idea just what we’re up against.”
I fully expected Smoky’s father to throttle him, but he stopped and cocked his head. “War? What sort of war?”
