Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

I nstead of jumping in shock followed by trying not to kill whoever it was, I leaned back against my assailant and relaxed.

"Why aren't you in Many Farms?" My question was softened by my gladness.

"Gabrielle said you were trying to reach me." Mick's deep voice rumbled through my body, loosening all my tension. "I called, but you didn't answer. I figured I'd come and see what was up."

He'd have covered the hundred or so miles as the crow flew by taking them as a dragon. He'd had time to land, shift, and put on clothes while I was out here talking to Nash.

I melted into Mick, this dragon-man I'd astonishingly agreed to marry. So happy was I to see him that I nearly forgot what I'd been trying to contact him about.

The bag at my feet wobbled, forcibly reminding me.

Mick released me slowly, his attention riveted to the bag. The dragon tattoos on his arms began to writhe, their black eyes glittering.

"Janet, what are you doing with a dragon egg?"

Mick's voice held a mixture of hard concern laced with rabid curiosity. The world was a fascinating place to Mick, whether he found danger or loveliness.

"Drake gave it to me."

Mick stepped to the other side of the bowling bag and faced me. "Drake," he repeated quietly. "Why?"

"Because I was the most trustworthy person he could think of." I shrugged. "Or the most gullible. I haven't decided yet."

Mick bent down and carefully unfastened the zipper. He regarded the decorated oval, snug in its bed, for some time. The egg went very still under his scrutiny, no more wriggling.

"Cesnia's?" Mick asked.

Drake had used her long, Latin-sounding name—this was the short version, I guessed. "That's what Drake told me."

"Hmm."

There could be a world of meaning in Mick's Hmms .

"I hadn't heard of her before. Drake said she lived on a remote island?"

"She does." Sadness filled Mick's eyes. They changed from the deep blue I loved to the blackness of his dragon's. "But if this egg is here, it means she's dead."

I gentled my tone. "Drake said that too."

Mick gazed up at the sky, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes. "She was one of the good ones. Strong but patient, wise but without the total arrogance most dragons have. She tempered her ego, anyway. You would have liked her."

"Why don't know I know anything about her?" If she was so wonderful, why hadn't Mick spoken of her? Or Colby, who was more gossipy?

"Cesnia valued her privacy. She stayed on her island because she got fed up with the dragon council, dragon lords, and all their shit." Mick gave the dark sky one last glare and returned his focus to me. "I hadn't seen her in decades. Maybe a century."

"Drake suspects another dragon killed her."

Mick took on a fearsome scowl. "If that's the case, her killer is a dead dragon flying. Especially since she left offspring."

"How did you know the egg was Cesnia's?" I asked in curiosity.

Mick gestured into the bag. "The decoration on the shell. Each dragon mother uses a different design, different stones, different metals. I think the custom comes from the time when there were many more dragons and nests were closer together. Kept eggs from getting mixed up and also prevented others from stealing them. Everyone would know whose egg was whose."

I pictured a land of volcanoes and vast deserts in between, with dragon nests on top of mountains, packed with glittering gold and gem-studded eggs. Dragons of all colors would fill the sky, dancing on giant wings.

There were far fewer dragons now, according to Mick, and still fewer young ones.

I had a startling thought. "Mick," I said in a small voice. "If we decide to have a kid…will it start as an egg?" I really, really didn't want to think about how big that egg would be .

"What?" Mick's puzzlement was genuine. He stared at me for a long moment, then his eyes became azure once more, and a grin split his face. "Are you asking me if you'll lay an egg?"

I went hot with embarrassment. "Hey, I have no idea how a dragon and a human—or even a half-goddess mess like me—reproduce."

Mick roared with laughter. He pressed his hands across his belly and shook with it. The egg vibrated again, and I sensed amusement instead of fear.

"You can quit laughing at me now, please."

Mick drew a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes. "You are the most amazing woman, my mate."

"Hey, I can't help it if I know next to nothing about dragons, Mr. Cryptic." I was very glad he hadn't confirmed I'd be passing a bowling ball—not that human babies were much smaller—but I was irritated by my ignorance.

Mick shook his head. "Actually, I don't know any dragons who've had offspring with humans."

"No?" My trepidation returned. "Not reassuring me, Mick."

"I meant they exist, but I'm not acquainted with them. They have kids the human way, I'm pretty sure."

"You're pretty sure? Are you saying I should bone up on my jewelry-making skills?"

Mick cupped my shoulders with strong hands. "I'm saying it's not something to worry about. We'll have time for all that later. At present, I want to know who killed Cesnia, and why Drake didn't take the egg to its father. Male dragons are sucky parents, but they defend their own offspring."

I remembered Drake's offhand possibly, possibly not when I asked if he was the dad. "It might be Drake's. If so, then he is taking care of it the best he can by having us watch it."

" Might be Drake's?" Mick said in surprise.

"He wasn't certain."

"Shit. Cesnia and Drake?" Mick's gaze went remote. "I guess I can see that. They both like solitude. Though since Drake is still alive, it could mean he's not the father."

Mick had once told me that female dragons sometimes turned around and killed their lovers once they were finished with them.

"Maybe she really liked him," I offered.

"Could be." Mick pondered the question. "Cesnia was reasonable, and as I say, not selfish and arrogant. I'll have to investigate further. Meanwhile, we need to keep the egg safe."

"Not easy with the other crap happening." I quickly filled him in on the lightning mesh attack, the man who dispersed it, and our unexpected guest, Carl Jones.

"Interesting," Mick said when I finished. "I can guess where Nash inherited his stubbornness."

"Carl seems more ready to let his guard down than Nash is. Maybe too much so."

"When some humans approach the end of their life, they become reckless." Mick shrugged. "What have they got to lose?"

"Or, he enjoys terrifying Nash," I suggested.

"Could be." Mick slid his arms around me, resting his hands on my hips. "We'll have to guard against more of these weird attacks. Shall we strengthen the wards?"

I knew he didn't mean following Cassandra around chanting as she waved a burning sage stick. Mick had taught me the power that could be found in tantric rites, though we did them privately and didn't join a group.

My entire being tingled in anticipation. Mick knew how to give me an explosion of pleasure that scoured me clean. I'd love to surrender to that right now, blotting out the troubles of the world in mindless joy.

I pressed a kiss to his hard chest through his shirt. "Let me make sure the hotel is secure first. I don't want to be interrupted."

Mick released me to take my hand. "I'll check it out with you."

Carl was still in the saloon when we entered it. He raised his beer to me and went on with a conversation he'd begun with the Wiccan couple. The other guests were talking calmly together, no one worried now that the magic lightning was gone.

Cassandra had returned to the reception desk, taking this quiet time to work on her budgets, which she enjoyed. She was excellent at accounting, and I always let her get on with it.

A motorcycle pulled up in front of the hotel as Mick and I crossed the lobby, and a tall woman in jeans and leather jacket dismounted. She was a wolf-Changer with black hair smoothed into a tight braid, very gray eyes, and a perpetual scowl. Pamela was Cassandra's mate, and never failed to show up if Cassandra didn't leave on the dot of seven in the evening.

Pamela nodded to Mick as she entered the hotel, ignored me, and moved to lean against the reception counter. "Dinner too much trouble for you?" she demanded of Cassandra.

"I just want to finish these projections," Cassandra answered without concern. "The hotel is doing well—lots of reservations now that the weather's nice."

"It can't project without you?"

Cassandra raised her head and sent Pamela a smile that would melt the stoniest heart. "Not really. I'm almost done, promise."

Pamela softened a little, though only someone who knew her well could tell. She was prickly with anyone she perceived as a threat to Cassandra, which meant most people.

"The weather sucks," Pamela announced. "Lightning everywhere. Are you messing with the storms, Janet?"

"It wasn't a storm," I said. "Magical attack. Don't worry, we got rid of it." I decided not to mention we'd only done so with the help of a stranger. That would raise too many questions I couldn't answer.

"No, you didn't." Pamela swept her leather-jacket clad arm toward the back of the hotel. "The lightning's all over the place out there, especially toward the canyons. I'm hoping I can persuade Cassandra home before we all get struck."

Cassandra looked up in alarm. Mick and I exchanged a startled glance before we headed at a run, bowling bag and all, to the door and out into the night.