The Queen's Dance (Emerging Queens) (8 page)

They stared at each other. He was dimly aware of the boat cutting through the lake, and he could see out of his peripheral vision that there weren’t any pesky sailboats in the way. Still, he eased off the throttle, slowing the boat down.

Her blue eyes had hints of sunlight in them. They dazzled him. Her hand clenched the fabric of his shirt as she leaned up for another kiss. Remy took her in his arms then, cutting off the motor with a sharp jab of his elbow. She felt like honeyed sunshine. He swooned, as adrift as they were on the lake, floating with the waves from the brisk wind. It was easy kissing her, a natural thing that his life had been missing. Now he understood why the studs put up with the Queens’ demands. There had only been five to make a dragon feel like this. Five to service a thousand studs. They’d just lost two.

Thank Nidhogg for the new Queens.

Of course, they could ask and receive anything they wanted. If he could have this every day… Remy was beginning to understand why the drakes risked their lives to take her. And why Reed wouldn’t give her any information that would put her in danger.

She broke off the kiss, because he didn’t have the strength. Heck, who needed air, anyway? Margery blushed and stuttered then took a deep breath and gave him another stunning glimpse into her beautiful eyes.

Please don’t apologize.

“Do you want to be my consort?”

Time stopped again. Instead of drakes attacking, the whole world narrowed down to the look in her eyes. Was she giving him an invitation or issuing a demand? Didn’t she realize that she could have anyone in the world, and she was settling for the first stud that kissed her? Should he be noble and tell her that for her own protection she should pick a stronger dragon? One that could fly. One that had arms and legs in dragon form.

“Remy?” she said as he continued to stare down at her.

She needed to give him a minute. Didn’t she realize she had made every dream he’d ever had come true? Every dragon stud dreamed of this, and only a small percentage ever became a consort. She was probably feeling grateful because he’d rescued her, and maybe she also wanted to make Casimiro jealous. Remy realized he didn’t care.

Margery’s eyes flared with the heat of anger. She punched his chest. “You can say no. I’m not going to force you.”

“Yes,” he said.

But she talked over him like she didn’t hear him. “It’s not like I haven’t been turned down before. I just thought that was one hell of a kiss, and you seemed to like it, too.”

“Yes,” he said again.

But she went on, “I know I come with a lot of baggage, and I’m probably more trouble than I’m worth.”

That he couldn’t allow. Since she wasn’t listening to him, he kissed her again.

When she understood he meant yes, she melted into his arms. He probably should drop the anchor, but he was afraid she’d change her mind if he stopped kissing her. After pulling down the tiny straps of the bikini she wore, he let it flutter to the deck. Then he had her breasts in his hands. Soft and full, they fit in his hands like they belonged there. Rubbing his palms over her nipples, he darted his tongue around her mouth.

She moaned and cupped his backside. If she touched his cock, he’d probably come immediately. Wouldn’t that make a great impression? He lifted her up to carry her down into the cabins, half opening his eyes so he wouldn’t trip down the stairs. Nidhogg, she was so beautiful, he couldn’t wait to get her into his bed. Her fingers were making short work of the button-down shirt he wore, and he shrugged out of it. The soft sigh she let out as her hands ran down the muscles of his arms nearly undid him. Pressing her against the wall of the stairway, Remy rubbed his entire body against her. Thank Nidhogg he still had his pants on, or he’d be inside her right now. Her hands fumbled at his belt. They were still kissing, her mouth giving as much as he was taking, and he reached for the doorknob. When it opened, he pushed them both through, where the air was dark and cool. Her shiver was violent, and she cried out.

“What?” he asked as she sank into a dead faint.

Chapter Seven

Margery was lying out in the sun again. She felt the heat press into her bones from the hard deck under her and the rays beating into her skin.

Bliss.

Listening, she could hear the creak of the deck chair and the splash of the waves. Where was Remy?

She wanted to open her eyes and sit up, but she didn’t know where they were. Would she be flashing all of Lake Champlain? Her hands inched around on the deck hoping to find her bikini. No luck. But she did feel a sheet balled up at the very edge of her reach. Snatching it, she wrapped it around herself and sat up and wobbled—she’d had tequila hangovers that didn’t feel like this. When her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she realized she was alone.

“Remy?” she called. She didn’t feel up to standing, so she sat there on deck and wondered why she’d passed out. It had just been starting to get good, too. Margery touched her lips where Remy’s kisses had left their brand then smiled and hoped he didn’t think he’d frightened her.

While she’d gotten really cold, and the dark did remind her briefly of being a prisoner below deck with the pirates, that’s where the similarities ended. Margery knew Remy would never hurt her. She wasn’t sure why she’d passed out, but it had nothing to do with him. Concentrating, she tried to emerge into a dragon so she could fly around the lake, but pain jackhammered into her skull until she was retching bile over the side of the deck.

“Shit,” she gurgled.

She thumped back to the deck and closed her eyes until the pain went away, which took longer than she expected. Luckily, the sun’s warmth bored into her every pore, and the headache eased to a mild throb. Margery stretched and rolled over so she wouldn’t get sunburned.

Too bad she’d passed out. She didn’t quite get the politics of the consort thing, but if it was a choice between Remy, Casimiro, and a total stranger, her best bet was Remy. It didn’t have to be love, after all. Not yet, anyway. It would have been nice to have a night of mind-blowing sex and fall asleep cuddled up in a man’s arms. Ever since Casimiro did a number on her heart, Margery wasn’t too keen on letting that organ decide her bed partners. Her libido had good taste, and right now Remy would fit the bill. If she could stay conscious for it.

A big wave lifted the boat, and she clutched at the deck as the vessel swayed nearly to tipping. Then Remy launched onto the deck. He was fully dressed and not even dripping.

She squinted up at him. “How do you do that?”

“Did you have a nice night?” he asked, turning his back on her to go to the helm and raise the

anchor.

Picturing an outfit in her mind, the sheet shifted into navy chinos and a peach sweater set.

She could get used to this. No more digging through her closet trying to find something to wear. Getting up, though, was harder.

“What do you mean, all night?” She had to shout to be heard over the roaring of the engines as he started them up. It didn’t do the pounding in her head any good.

Sinking into the seat next to him, she held on while he took them around in a circle at a fast clip. Averting her eyes from the lake water so she wouldn’t freak out, she tried to judge his mood. “I have a feeling I’m missing something.”

“You passed out and slept the entire night, and now we’re late for a meeting with Viola and Sergei.”

“I’m sorr—” She cut off her words at the enraged glare he shot her. “What?”

“Let’s just get through this meeting and then we can figure out where to go from here.”

Margery sat on her hands so she wouldn’t strangle him. “Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Nothing.”

“Whatever.” She could do passive-aggressive, too.

It was a long trip down to Burlington Bay, made even longer by Remy’s stone-cold visage. She wanted to tell him she hadn’t meant to pass out, but did he actually think she’d done it on purpose? Margery had an argument with him in her head that made her feel marginally better by the time he docked his thirty-eight-foot yacht. Her headache faded to a dull pain behind her eyes, which left her feeling drowsy and a little bitchy. She could use a cup of tea.

When he cut the engines, she climbed out of the boat unassisted, too mad at him to wait. But she did turn around for him when she realized she had no idea where they were going. She noticed the boat’s name was
Nessie
.

Margery smiled.
He can’t be all bad. He named his boat after his mama.
His grim expression, though, didn’t budge, and it scared off a few of the autograph seekers. Jamming a ball cap on his head, Remy pointed up to the parking lot.

“Blue truck,” he said.

Well, that was a start. It was two more words than he’d spoken to her for the past hour. She climbed into it after he unlocked it, and they maneuvered around the pedestrians as they made their way up past College Street.

The farm was only about fifteen minutes away. It was a shock after the busy commercial streets they’d just left to be surrounded by parks and other farms. Remy took a dirt road that had seen better days farther into the forest, and she held on as the trail bounced her around the cab of the truck. The sight of sheep grazing in the pasture made her stomach growl.

“You can’t eat the sheep,” Remy said.

“I remembered that part.” Margery wished they’d stopped for breakfast, but they were already running late, apparently. Her stomach didn’t settle down until they were in Burlington Bay.

A biker dude with lots of scars and tattoos stood at the junction of the road. His arms were crossed, and his feet were planted in a wide stance. His mirrored sunglasses glinted in the sun as he stared at them when Remy stopped the truck. Margery was halfway out the door when he yanked her back.

“I’m your protector. I go first.”

“Is he going to be a problem?” He certainly looked like he was going to be a problem.

“That’s Sergei. Viola’s mate. He’s her protector and consort.” Remy slid out of the truck and ambled up to the man, and Margery hurried to catch up to him. She remembered Sergei as a purple wyvern—he was part of the dragon team that had rescued her from the pirates.

“Hi, I’m Margery. I don’t think I ever got to thank you properly.” She held out her hand while the male dragons continued to stare at each other. “I hope I’m not interrupting the pissing match, but I’m dying for a mug of tea.”

“What type?”

Margery looked beyond the big shoulders of Sergei and saw a blond chick knitting a hat. She wore an intricate sweater and jeans.

“We got white, green, black, and red. The red one is—”

“Rooibos,” Margery finished.

They shared a delighted smile.

“Is that Fair Isle?” Margery asked, pointing to the woman’s sweater.

The blonde’s face lit up. “We’re going to be best friends.”

Sergei groaned. “Oh, here we go. No, we’re not going shopping.”

“Did you just say no to a Queen?” Remy said.

“Between Carolyn’s books, Viola’s yarn, and…” Sergei leaned over to her. “What’s your hoard, honey?”

“I don’t have a hoard.”

“Of course you do,” he said. “If I dropped you off at a shopping center, what’s the first store you go into?”

“The bookstore,” Carolyn said, walking down the road from the house.

“The yarn store,” Viola said, smiling at her.

They all looked at Margery.

“Tea.”

Sergei clubbed Remy on the shoulder. “Way to your Queen’s heart, Champ. Dried leaves. You’re welcome.”

“I think I’ve got a book on tea,” Carolyn said.

“Of course you do.” Sergei nodded.

Carolyn gave Margery a hug and introduced the blond woman to her as Viola.

“I didn’t recognize you without your other heads,” Margery said. Now it made sense why Margery immediately liked her. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

She heard Remy sigh at her gratitude and ignored him. Being a dragon for a few months wasn’t going to erase decades of being human.

“All in a day’s work,” Viola said.

“So Carolyn tells me you worked with Smythe,” Margery said. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure, let’s get some tea and we can have a Queens’ circle,” Viola said. “No men allowed. No offense. We want to bitch about you without your feelings getting hurt.” She smiled at the studs and then took Carolyn and Margery’s arms and led them back toward the farmhouse.

…

Remy watched the trio go with more relief than he’d expected to feel. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been wound ever since Margery passed out in his arms last night. Had he come on too strong? Scared her? What else couldn’t he do right like other dragons? He’d never been with a Queen before. Maybe he could learn something from Sergei and Reed without giving away how much of a novice he was at politics.

“They going to be all right all by themselves?” he asked Sergei.

“There aren’t any studs in the area but us, and Reed is doing long-range surveillance. I’ll take the air and you take the ground.”

Not that he had a choice.

Tamping down on that bitter thought, Remy watched as Sergei shifted and soared into the sky.

He’d never missed flying. He wouldn’t give up his expertise in the water for anything, but he couldn’t deny he lacked the advantage of arms and claws in a fight. Still, it was a vote of confidence that Sergei trusted him to protect his Queen.

Remy walked a perimeter around the farm. It was as quiet, as Sergei said; the only thing he scented on the wind was alpaca shit and the faint smell of pot from a few miles away. He’d been a little short with Margery this morning, and regret ate at him—not knowing what to expect from her had him on edge. A normal Queen would have had him flogged or worse for mistreating her. Even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong, Remy hadn’t been sure of his welcome.

Margery confounded him by acting like nothing was wrong, although she hadn’t mentioned him being her consort again. Did that mean she’d changed her mind? It would be just his luck that he blew his one chance to be with a Queen.

In the distance, he noted a stud flying in, quickly intercepted by Sergei, who allowed him to land after a brief discussion in the sky. Remy gritted his teeth. It was too much to hope that Casimiro would have fucked off. The strutting peacock shifted into human form and sauntered up to him.

“How was your night, Chump?”

“Amazing,” he drawled and was rewarded with Casimiro’s fierce scowl. The asshole didn’t have to know that he’d spent the night at the bottom of Lake Champlain with a case of blue balls.

“You know you are just temporary.”

Remy shrugged. He wasn’t going to play this game. “Whether I am or not, it has nothing to do with you. Or me, for that matter. Whatever the Queen decides, we will abide or be killed.”

Casimiro frowned. “I don’t think Margery has it in her to call for our heads.”

“She’s a Queen. She’ll learn.”

They both looked up as the sky darkened when Reed blocked out the sun.

“Nidhogg, he’s big,” Casimiro said.

Remy wouldn’t want to go up against him in a fight, either.

After a moment talking with Sergei, Reed also landed and shifted to human. Sergei remained in the air, flying cover over the farmhouse.

“Any news?” Remy asked Reed when he joined them.

“The investigation is in its early stages. However, I’ve received a message from Margery’s sister, Carla.”

Casimiro looked as blank as he did.

“She has a sister?”

“Affirmative,” Reed said. “She would like Margery to contact her.” He handed Remy a cell phone. “She can call her with this phone. The number is programmed in already, and it’s good for one use.”

“Isn’t that a little paranoid?”

“Her background check came back with some colorful incidents in the past.”

“She have a record?” Remy pocketed the phone.

Reed nodded. “Minor larceny convictions, a blackmail scheme. It’s enough that I’d caution you to try and convince Margery to keep her sister at a distance until we can set up her court. Have you decided on a location?”

“La Motte or Cedar Island,” Remy said.

Casimiro snorted in disgust. “Too small.”

“Easier to protect,” Remy gritted out. “You got a better idea?”

“Burlington.”

“What part?”

“All of it,” Casimiro said.

“Burlington isn’t a deserted island that we can claim. There are good people who have businesses and homes there.”

“I do not care for these humans’ little lives. Have them move.”

Remy’s hands clenched into fists. “No. This is my territory and my people. They trust me to preserve their way of life, not run roughshod all over it.”

Casimiro shrugged. “Then perhaps Vermont isn’t the place for this Queen.”

“What about Grand Isle Park?” Reed asked. “It’s almost twice the size of La Motte.”

“Why not all of Grand Isle?” Casimiro asked then sighed dramatically when Remy glared at him. “Let me guess. People.” He spat out the word like one would say “cockroaches.”

Truthfully, Remy would prefer Isle La Motte. It was remote, surrounded by water, and only had a population of five hundred people. Most of whom would be happy to accommodate a Queen’s castle or at least take a large payout to move. Which brought up an important question.

“Who’s paying for the relocations?”

“It’s the Queen’s court’s honor to do so,” Casimiro said with a snide smile. “Of course, until she has one, her protector will take on any financial burden.”

Oof.

“Some of us don’t have rock star salaries coming in,” Remy said to salvage his pride, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the means.” He hadn’t been expecting to finance the Queen, but then again, he hadn’t expected any of this.

“If you change your mind…” Casimiro trailed off.

“The dragon embassy also has funds set up you can apply for,” Reed said.

“I can handle it,” Remy snapped. He might have to sell off some of the finer golf clubs from his hoard, but he’d do it. He’d be damned if these studs would consider him lacking in yet another area.

Or he could take the easy way out. Petition Margery to rescind her offer of protector. His reputation would take a hit, but who gave a shit what the dragons thought. He was happy on his land. Everything was just fine until the Queens started emerging.