Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

Thirteen
    I dly, I rubbed my cell phone and wondered if I���d put the cart before the horse. Baltic hadn’t denied that he had killed those blue dragons, and yet I had seen a moment of hurt in his eyes before he answered with a typical dragon nonanswer. “I couldn’t love someone who was a murderer,” I said aloud to the empty room. “I couldn’t.”
    “What couldn’t you do?” Baltic asked from the doorway, causing me to jump.
    “I’ll tell you if you answer two questions for me.”
    His eyebrows rose as he strolled across the room to me, all coiled power and sexy hips. “Just two?”
    “Yes. The first is whether you had any involvement with the deaths of the blue dragons.”
    He paused for a second, giving me an unreadable look. “You have already asked me that question, and I have answered it.”
    “No, you gave me a nonanswer.”
    “What purpose would I have to kill blue dragons?”
    I ground my teeth. “You know, this dragon thing of not answering a question outright is driving me nuts.”
    “It shouldn’t. You are prone to the same trait.”
    “I am not! I’m human! I don’t do that! Now please, just answer the question—did you have anything to do with those deaths?”
    “Yes.”
    My stomach dropped like a lead weight. I was so sure he would deny it. “You did? You killed those dragons?”
    “No.”
    He stood near to me, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his dragon fire come to life. “You just said you did!” I all but wailed.
    “No, I said I had something to do with it. I did not kill them, but I knew that their deaths were possible.”
    “I don’t understand.” I wanted to run screaming from the room and at the same time I wanted to wrap myself around him, reassuring myself that he wasn’t the monster everyone thought he was. “Who killed them?”
    He said nothing.
    I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. “Baltic, this is important. The weyr thinks you are responsible for the deaths of all those blue dragons. In fact . . . well, we’ll talk about that later. But right now, I really need to know—who did kill them?”
    “I had forgotten how persistent you can be when you desire something,” he said with a sigh, placing his hand over mine. “I will tell you, but only because you are my mate and I trust you. Fiat Blu killed the dragons.”
    “Fiat Blu? He’s part of that sept?”
    “Yes. His sept was taken from him by his uncle.”
    “Why would Fiat kill his own people? And why would you know about it?”
    His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me into a gentle embrace. I let my fingers wander up the thick muscles of his arms, enjoying the solid feel of him, the tingle that seemed to come to life in the air around us whenever we touched. It was a sense of anticipation that left my body extremely aware of the differences between us.
    “I have no quarrel with the blue dragons or Fiat. A few decades back, when I returned to life, he gave me shelter. Later, when he lost his sept to his uncle Bastian, he sought my aid in recovering control, but he disappeared a month ago. I do not know where he has gone to ground.”
    “You didn’t try to stop him from killing innocent dragons?”
    A flicker of pain crossed his face. “I did not think he would carry out his threat. He is unbalanced, mate, but I did not believe he would massacre members of his own sept. I was mistaken.”
    “Those poor dragons.” I spent a moment sending up a silent prayer that they found a better life before something Baltic had said finally nudged my awareness. “Wait a second—a few decades back?”
    “Why are you making that horrified face?” He frowned, puzzled.
    “You said a few decades ago, when you were reborn.”
    He made an annoyed gesture. “I died after you were killed, Ysolde. I’ve told you that.”
    “But you were reborn right away, weren’t you?”
    “No. Life was not returned to me until almost forty years ago.”
    I stared at him in confusion. “But when was I reborn?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Dr. Kostich said my husband wasn’t mortal. If he’s not, and I was reborn right after I died . . . oh my god!”
    “What?” Baltic asked as I reeled back from him.
    I pointed a finger at him. “You’re younger than me!”
    The look he gave me was almost comical. “What does age matter?”
    “Oh, it matters if you’re three hundred years old and the man you’re dating is . . . what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
    “Thirty-nine.”
    “Great!