Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

the trip back home telling us about the many wonderful mummies and mummy-related items he saw, purchased, and planned to do. I was aware the entire time of Baltic’s ire regarding the meeting with the wyverns, but we both knew there was nothing he could do to get out of it.
    “What did you and the silver mate discuss that was so important you had to leave me to be harangued by Gabriel?” Baltic asked when Brom ran out of steam.
    “We summoned the First Dragon.”
    His eyebrows rose. “Why?”
    “Because I was tired of trying to figure out what he wanted me to do.”
    “And what did he say?”
    I slid him a quick glance. “He wants me to return Constantine’s honor.”
    “He had no honor to return!” Baltic declared.
    “I’m not debating his actions, simply telling you what the First Dragon said. He pulled May and me into another vision, this time of the events right after he had resurrected me. He said that death of the innocent had stripped honor from Constantine, and I was supposed to return it. But how I’m supposed to return honor to him when he is dead is beyond me. Do you have any suggestions?”
    The look he gave me was unreadable. “Yes. Do not try.”
    “The First Dragon asked me to do it, Baltic. I don’t think it’s going to be a good idea if I don’t at least try something.”
    He shrugged, and changed the subject. “Why did you not tell me the meeting with the wyverns was tomorrow?”
    “Why did you not tell me that Constantine is the First Dragon’s youngest son?” I countered.
    “What does it matter to you who the First Dragon’s children were? They were all dead by the time Dauva was destroyed,” he said in typical dragon evasion.
    “I give up even trying to have a conversation with you when you’re in this mood,” I said, irritated and yet at the same time sympathetic to his unwillingness to continue the subject. I knew the fact that he had been kicked out of his own sept and incurred the wrath of the First Dragon was a touchy subject with him, so rather than push the point, I simply told him that we would talk to the wyverns about the whole ridiculous weyr war.
    “I have work I must do if I am to spend tomorrow in such folly,” he told me when we arrived home. “Later, once our son has gone to bed, you will do all those erotic things you have been thinking about doing to me.”
    I glanced at him in utter surprise as Brom hauled his newly gotten swag to the basement, where he had a little lab. “How on earth did you know I was indulging in smutty thoughts about you?”
    He smiled and pulled me against him. “I can always tell. Your eyes go liquid with desire, and your breathing increases. And you repeatedly shoot me speculative glances, as if you were formulating and discarding several plans. I suspect you have been indulging in more inventive fantasies about me.”
    I bit his shoulder, reveling for a few moments in the scent and feel of him. “You love those fantasies, and I was doing no such thing.”
    He squeezed my behind.
    “Oh, all right, just a little one, but it only involved a chase scenario, so you can hardly call it inventive.”
    “Chase?” His head rose from where he had been nibbling on my neck, a strange light in his velvety dark eyes.
    “Kaawa said it was something dragons do.”
    “It is.” He breathed deeply for a moment. “You used to leave me little notes, urging me to find where you had hidden. You were very good at hiding, but I could always find you. You wish to play this way again?”
    “Perhaps,” I said, moving the chase scenario up to the top of my mental to-do list. I gave him a long look as I strolled toward the sitting room. “We shall see, shan’t we?”
    A low rumble emerged from his chest, a strangely erotic sound that sent shivers down my arms. I left him standing in the hallway, making a mental note to ask Kaawa what other dragon games had been lost to my memory.

Chapter Ten
    T hala returned unexpectedly from Paris that evening, seriously inhibiting my ability to tackle Baltic about the First Dragon, the upcoming meeting, or even how I was to go about finding information on the ouroboros dragons with whom Kostich’s granddaughter was involved.
    “I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous,” I growled to myself as I stalked out of Baltic’s study, where he and Thala were bent over her laptop, going over the video she’d taken of Suffrage House.
    “Why would you be jealous?” Brom asked, sitting on the stairs with a