Me and My Shadow - Katie MacAlister [94]
“Fires of Abaddon,” Jim said, goggling. “He’s gonna boink her right there!”
“Quiet, demon,” Aisling ordered absently, blinking at the sight of the two lovers.
Drake was immediately at her side, gently pulling her over to a chair. “Kincsem, I said I would fetch you when it was time. You are early. You will tire yourself.”
“Stop fussing,” she said, but there was love in her eyes as she kissed his cheek when he bent over her. “I’m fine. What’s happened other than Cyrene and Kostya checking each other’s fillings?”
“It would appear that Chuan Ren hasn’t formally taken over control of her sept yet,” I said, watching the red wyvern.
Her lip curled at me. “Gabriel, tell your mate I will not repeat myself to her. I am the red wyvern. Nothing that puling little turd Fiat can do will change that, as you will see if you will have him brought to me so I may torture him as he deserves.”
“Excellent! I thought we might be late, but we’re just in time for the torture,” Magoth said, flinging open the door. He was dressed in his usual pair of black leather pants, with a black shirt open to his navel, his favorite bullwhip wrapped around his waist. Next to him was the sultry-eyed Catalina, listing somewhat to the side as if she couldn’t stand up straight.
“Mother?” Drake took a few steps forward, frowning first at his mother, then at Magoth. “What has happened to you?”
Magoth leered. “We had a very interesting night. Your mother is most . . . inventive . . . in her ideas of pleasure.”
Catalina’s hair was mussed, her clothing wrinkled, her mouth red and swollen, and her eyes looked a bit vague, as if she’d been through a particularly strenuous orgy. “Inventive,” Catalina agreed, her expression dazed.
Drake swore under his breath as he tidied her blouse to cover a breast that was almost exposed. “I expected better of you, Mother. You look like a loose woman.”
“Loose.” She weaved at him, looking like she might fall over.
Magoth grabbed her quickly and propped her up against the doorframe, rubbing his hands as he entered the room. “What sort of torture are you having at this dragon gathering, hmm? I’m happy to act as consultant as to what is the best for large-group participation.”
“No one will be tortured at the sárkány,” Drake said, gesturing toward his mother. Immediately Pál and István, who had been standing at the other end of the room, moved to her side and started to take her out.
The word “torture” seemed to bring her around.
“Release me,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I can walk.” She gave both dragons a haughty look before straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin, and sailing into the room with a pale imitation of her normal aplomb.
She was fine until she spotted the twosome. The sight of them seemed to give her new energy.
“What is this?” she demanded, stalking into the room to stand next to the Cyrene/Kostya entity. “Who is this besom sucking the face of my firstborn, my delicious Kostya? Drake, what are you thinking allowing this?”
“Kostya is old enough to deal with his women as he likes,” Drake said smoothly, although he shot his brother a look as he said it. “I would, however, appreciate it if he managed to refrain from outright sexual intercourse during the sárkány.”
“You know how to take the fun out of any get-together,” Jim said.
“I insist that he stop!” Catalina said, hands on her hips. She nodded to the two models. “Remove that naiad from the person of my dear son.”
The two models hesitated, eyeing Cyrene. “I dare not contradict the wyvern,” one of them finally said.
“You will do as I say,” she said, gaining control of herself with every passing moment. “Remove her!”
“We cannot,” the second model said, casting an appealing glance toward the male bodyguard.
“We answer only to the wyvern,” he explained, somewhat lamely to my ears.
Catalina didn’t like that.
“Drake!” she demanded. “Do something! She will smother him.”
“Mother, I told