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Smoky relaxed just enough for me to notice. “If you thought Grandfather’s war was bad, what we face here is ten times worse. The demons are breaking through the portals and all worlds will be at risk. If they overrun the Earth and Otherworld, they will overrun the Northlands eventually.”
The elder dragon narrowed his eyes and glanced at me. “What does she have to do with this?”
“More than you realize,” Smoky said, nodding to me. “Camille and her sisters are our primary hope. The last thing I need to think about is a marriage I’m not interested in, children at this early age, and kowtowing so you can move up the social ladder. And if Mother were here, she’d agree with me.”
Smoky’s father scowled but he said nothing. Then, he slowly walked over to me, looking me up and down like I was a prize cow. I steeled myself, ready to make tracks if he decided to land a fist on me like he had his son.
“Camille, is it? So you’ve enchanted my son. You must have some incredible talents to pluck his heartstrings thusly.” A slow, lecherous smile crept over his face and he leaned too close, crowding me. “Or perhaps it’s not so much his heartstrings that you pluck, but another part of his body. Your Fae blood may give you something worth tasting, after all. You are comely enough, for your kind.”
His gaze fastened on my boobs. He reached out with one hand and stroked my chin. I shivered. His touch was covetous and grasping, not smooth and caressing like Smoky’s. A touch that promised to overpower, to take what he wanted with—or without—permission. Yeah, the old rape-and-pillage mentality, but he had the force to back it up. I steeled myself and looked him straight in the eye as he leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips. His tongue played against them, but I refused to open my mouth and he let out a soft grunt.
“Welcome to the family . . . for as long as we decide to humor my son’s whims,” he whispered in my ear. “But remember, as Iampaatar’s father, I have the right to demand access to anything he possesses and it is his sworn duty to hand it over, to use or abuse as I wish.”
I did stumble then, and he caught me up, his fingers too eager to rub against me as he deposited me on the sofa. I wanted nothing more than to crawl away and take a shower to wash the feel of his hands off of me.
Turning to Smoky, who looked as close to pure rage as I’d ever seen him, he said, “We have much to discuss. Whether I will allow you to pay the release fee for the marriage is still to be determined. But we must talk to the council about this war. You will tell us what you know, my son. And then, we will discuss your nuptials.”
Hotlips looked pissed. Arms folded across her chest, she tapped one gorgeous clawed nail against her skin. “You’re a fool if you let him talk you out of this marriage, Hyto. This will strengthen your position in the council chambers.” Apparently, she had no qualms about revealing the elder dragon’s common name in front of me.
Hyto merely shrugged. “The final decision will be up to my wife, of course, since she bears the higher ranking. Meanwhile, we shall return to the Northlands and explore this warfare my son speaks of. Iampaatar, come.” The word was definite and even I knew that Smoky couldn’t get out of the trip.
He nodded, bowing ever so slightly to his father, and walked over to me; he picked me up, bundling me in his arms. His gaze fastened on mine, he carried me out of the room, into the parlor. There, he shut the door and pulled me over to the far corner, into his arms.
“I am so sorry about my father. If he had tried to actually harm you, I’d have fought him off. Please, never think anything else. But this is such a delicate balancing act . . .”
I sought his lips, and he kissed me long, slow, his tongue coiling around mine, his hands holding me firmly, reminding me I was his. I relaxed finally. The difference between him and his father was as huge as the Grand Canyon. The apple fell far, far from the tree in this case.
I melted into the kiss, afraid that when he left, I’d never see him again. “Come back to me,” I whispered. “Don’t let them keep you there. Come back to me . . . to us. We need you. I need you.”
Smoky leaned down and placed his forehead against mine. “Camille, I promise you on my word of honor. By my smoke-stacks and whiskers, I won’t let them separate us. I will return to you and your sisters. Your family is now my family, and if it ends up being the only family I have, then I can accept that. You belong to me. I belong to you. Nothing—not demons, not dragons, not promises made before I was born—can ever change that.”
Tears were streaking down my cheeks now and I clung to him, my arms tight around his neck. “I lost Trillian,” I whispered. “And though I know he’s coming back, what if something goes wrong? I can’t lose you, too. I can’t lose any of you. You and Morio and Trillian are my loves, my life. You make me whole. You keep me sane.”
He pressed his finger against my lips. “Sshhh . . . everything will work out. I promise you. I am not like my father. My mother has honor, though she’s haughty and stern as is her birthright. My father has the white dragon’s grasping nature. He comes from a lower caste and married into his position, and he’s always seeking something higher. My grandfather, though . . . is more like me. You’d like him and he’d like you.”
“I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to meet him,” I said, unaccountably sad.
“Never say never, my love.” Smoky kissed me again. “I am not going to marry Hotlips, regardless of whether it gets me thrown out of my dreyerie.” He paused, then slowly said, “I mean it when I say we’re soul mates. The ritual bound us together forever. Camille—before I go, I have to tell you something. I think I’ve discovered a way that we can have a child.”
I stared up at him, the meaning of his words crashing in on me. “What? That isn’t possible!”
“Yes, it is. I know of a magical ritual that can pave the way. The child would be a true shifter—a dragon shifter, though not fully dragon.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I stared at him, terrified. He wanted me to have a child. His child. A dragon child. Thoughts of C-sections and movies like It’s Alive raced through my head.
“Just think about it,” he whispered. “If we were to have a child, this would cement you into my family. And it would take care of one of my duties to pass on my heritage. Please don’t say no without thinking about it.” He swallowed, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him.
I let the possibility settle in my heart. Then softly, so softly I was barely speaking aloud, I said, “You know I have no maternal instincts. But I . . . I’ll think about it. I can’t make you any promises, though.”
“We have plenty of time, and your promise to think about it is good enough for me,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Remember—there are nannies who can look after the children. And now, I must go.”>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.
