The Last Queen Page 7

“You’re the last of a species. You expect me to reproduce.” Her tone accused him of crimes he had yet to commit.

  “You think entirely too much,” Navarre murmured.

  Nikki nudged her. “He’s known you for how long?”

  Navarre kept his eyes locked on Adrianne. Unperturbed, he said, “Nikki, this conversation has turned private. Would you mind if Quince returned and gave you a tour of our ship? I assure you, no harm will come to your friend.”

  Adrianne wasn’t sure if that was meant to put her or Nikki at ease, but she was certain she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. Whether she didn’t trust her hands or his, she didn’t know. “No.”

  Nikki ignored her. “Quince is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

  Navarre’s lips quirked again. “Yes.”

  Nikki jumped to her feet. “Where’s he at?”

  “Nikki!” Adrianne turned on her friend.

  “Sorry, honey. You heard the nice alien, you’re safe.”

  “This is some bad hallucination. Maybe someone spiked our wine. You can’t leave me here alone.” Adrianne grabbed for her arm.

  Nikki stepped just out of reach and shot her a disbelieving look. “Things like this don’t happen when you’re tripping,” she said, with an air of authority. “That leaves two possibilities. Either we’re dead or this is real. In any case, I’ve just been offered the chance to be escorted around by a delicious-looking man who swears he’s an alien.” She winked at Adrianne. “I don’t get this chance every day.”

  Adrianne sat back, shocked. “I don’t believe you!”

  A panel slid open in the wall and Quince appeared. He offered her his arm. “M’lady.”

  Nikki put a hand to her heart and turned to Adrianne. “Doesn’t that just make you want to melt in place?”

  “Yeah, yeah. They’re trying to separate us. Can’t you see that?”

  “Mmm.” Nikki gave Quince a frank appraisal. She grinned, patted Adrianne on the head, then linked her arm through Quince’s. “Be a good girl.”

  “Go to hell.” Adrianne stood.

  “Relax, I’ll be back. Don’t look so worried.” The panel slid shut, cutting her off from her friend.

  Adrianne turned on Navarre. “Pretty sneaky. You think you’re so smart.”

  Navarre appeared unperturbed. “Please sit.”

  “I will not.”

  “You have had a traumatic few days. Do not unduly stress yourself.” His voice was mild, expression bland.

  “You’re looking for a breeder.”

  That sparked a fire in his eyes, but his face remained composed. “It is very complex.”

  “Try me.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Will you not sit?” He indicated the couch.

  Did she finally catch a hint of annoyance in his voice? Good. “No.”

  “Very well. We are shapeshifters. This is one form. We mate and reproduce in another.”

  Adrianne sat. “What?”

  Satisfied that he now had her undivided attention, he continued. “Our base form is what your language terms a dragon. This is a more efficient form for traveling.”

  She shook her head, unable to grasp all the implications his statement created. “You’ve lost me.”

  “Your friend could dally weeks on end with Quince and never become pregnant. We breed in our true form only.”

  She couldn’t hide her confusion. “Then you have no use for me.”

  When Navarre didn’t immediately respond, she stilled. She had scales on her arms, didn’t she? She slid up her shirtsleeves and ran her fingers over her forearms. In this light, she saw nothing unusual. “You’re trying to tell me I’m one of you?” she choked.

  Navarre leaned forward and tried to take her hands. She pulled back, twisting them in her lap. “Yes, it is our belief you are able to shapeshift as well.”

  Adrianne snorted. “You’re crazy. If Nikki wasn’t with me, I’d think this is another hallucination.”

  “But you are thinking that I am but a delusion. You are humoring me.”

  He was reading her mind again. “Will you stop doing that!”

  “Do not broadcast, then,” he retorted, a hint of a sharpness in his voice.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She preferred annoyance to the blanketing mildness he cloaked himself in. “Don’t you think I’d know if I was an alien?”

  “Does a monkey believe it is a monkey when raised with only humans? What of your parents?”

  “I never knew my real ones. I was adopted.” Her stomach clenched. She knew he must have picked that knowledge from her brain. It made her angry.

  “Adrianne, you stopped that plane on the runway. With the power of your mind.”

  “No.” She shook her head. No.

  “Yes. You did that. When you are roused, you toss your thoughts and emotions all about. One cannot help but hear you.” Navarre stood and held out his hand. “Come. I wish to show you something.”

  She eyed his hand warily.

  “Lady,” he said, finally exasperated. “If we wished you harm, we would have left you to the Hunter.” He looked like that was his greatest desire at the moment. “That Fate has wrapped a comely cloak around one so suspicious and cynical is infuriating. Doubt me not or the Dragoon will choose another to deal with you.”

  “Fine. Why waste your time with me?”

  “Because we are meant to be,” he hissed out on a breath. “You recognized me.”

  She tried to deny him, but the words lodged in her throat. Some part of her did respond to him, as if he were a comfortable friend, no, more than that, as if he were her lover. She colored. She had never met him before. She hid her face in her hands.

  His hand ruffled her hair. “I was harsh.”

  Her body knew that touch, had ached for it for centuries. No, she was picking up Navarre’s thoughts and they were muddling with hers.

  He knelt beside her. Taking her wrists in his hands, he pulled them down until she was forced to face him. His eyes were still that brilliant shade of green. This close to him she could see the swirl of color in their depths. Despite the inhumanness of them, the odd slit to the pupil, she recognized compassion.

  “What is happening to me?” she whispered.

  He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. “You have found your missing self.”

  “I’m falling apart.” She bit her lip. “Everything is falling apart.”

  He shook his head. “I will protect you. Come.” He straightened, offering her his hand once again.

  She reached up and took his hand. Her hand trembled. Something deep inside her unfurled wings, calling to him. His hand closed around hers before she could pull back. Need and duty tore at him. She could feel it through that shared contact. He wanted to taste her, to silence her protests with his lips. She shuddered. Abruptly his emotions were closed off to her.

  “How did you do that?” He stared at her with a mix of surprise and anger.

  “Do what?” she asked. He pressed his lips flat. She had the distinct feeling she’d just lost a valuable ally. “Please. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “You have a very sharp mind.” The mask of politeness was again in place, but his tone bit like a paper cut.

  “It’s weak,” she insisted. “It’s broke before.”

  He paused, his jade eyes probing. “How so?”

  She hadn’t meant to let him know. His eyes narrowed. She felt his mind touching hers and it was devoid of the tenderness she’d felt before. Flipping over her wrist, he ran his thumb across the scars on her left wrist. “Why would you seek to harm yourself?”

  She broke his gaze. “My life wasn’t worth living?”

  “You will not be permitted to hurt yourself here.”

  What had she expected from him, an alien? Sympathy? She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  He continued to stroke her scars. “What do you call this refusal to live?”

  The way he phra
sed it made it sound like she was a coward. She’d never thought of it as that, only as a release. “Forget I said anything, okay?” She tugged her hand free.

  Navarre was silent so long, she was finally forced to look at him. His gaze was directed inward, as if she were, as she suspected, forgotten. “We have a word for it,” he said finally. “Trulay.” He led her to the panel Nikki had exited. “Had we not found you, this too, would have been our decision.”

  His words were like dropping batter into hot grease. She flinched. “Oh.” Her existence kept them from killing themselves. She didn’t want that kind of responsibility. “Why tell me this?”

  “To make you aware of your importance to us.”

  To keep you from trying again, she heard. It was as gentle a chastisement as he seemed able to make, laced with understanding. That quiet understanding was more powerful than any drug the doctors had given her.

  They were in a windowed hallway, the windows looking out onto a forested area. Adrianne stared, open-mouthed, as the ground appeared three stories below. They wound around the edge of the ship, moving continually lower, until they reached a ladder.

  “You don’t have a tool that just beams you down wherever you wish to be?” she asked.

  “That is the stuff of fiction.” His tone was once again polite, distant.

  And this wasn’t? Adrianne stifled a laugh.

  He lowered himself down, then waited until she’d reached the ground as well. Once down, he took her hand again, and led her to a clearing beside the ship.

  “Watch.” Dropping her hand, he took two steps away from her.

  Adrianne blinked, then blinked again. In the moonlight, his form seemed to shimmer and blur. He threw his arms up and back. They split down the middle. One set lengthened and became wings, copper membranes edged with jade, the other, short arms sheathing themselves in scales and ending in claws. His body was a deep green, each scale a slightly different shade, so the overall effect was as if one were looking at the dappled canopy of a forest. His underbelly became a shimmer of coppery blond, the shade of the highlights in his hair. A row of overlapping spiked scales ran from his neck, along his spine, to the tip of his tail, the only sign of his emotional state being the nonstop flicking of the tail’s end. Multifaceted eyes, like that of a diamond, but reflecting moonlit rainbows, watched for her reaction.

  “Oh lord.” Her voice squeaked. She looked up. On all fours, the dragon before her was the length of a bus. When he reared back, he towered over her.

  Fly with me? he inquired, a now-familiar amusement-tinged voice within her mind.

  She gave him a bleak stare, trying to recover herself. Fantasy and reality now turned down completely separate paths. She chose the fantasy.

  He chuckled. Dress warmly. There are leathers beside the ship.

  She spun around and saw there was indeed a pile of leather at the base of the ladder.

  “You don’t scare me,” she said, but her insides trembled. She felt his presence within her mind, but he wisely remained silent.

  She slipped into a pair of fur-lined leather pants and jacket, pulled up the hood and fastened the clasp to hold it shut. A pair of boots and thick leather mittens completed the ensemble. The fur was soft on her cheek, like that of a rabbit. She cringed, wondering what animal it may have come from.

  “How did you know my size?”

  You have the same build as Adonthe, one of the Dragoon.

  She hesitated, then walked to his side. His eyes whirled, a kaleidoscope of color. He extended a forepaw, four claws forward, a fifth claw pointing back. He could rip her apart with one careless move.

  I will be very careful. His voice rang with indignation.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she closed her eyes. “Okay. I’m just a little worried. I don’t like to fly,” she trailed off. That probably insulted him even more.

  You will enjoy this, I promise. He clasped her about the waist with one paw, locked her legs with the other and tucked her against his chest.

  She turned in his grip, pulled off a mitten and laid her hands against the scales. They were smooth to the touch. She ran a finger against the scales.

  Take care.

  Too late. The scales were razor-sharp. She never felt the cut, but her skin parted and a single drop of blood welled at its tip.

  You are hurt.

  “No.” She put her finger to her lips, tasting blood. If she was indeed dreaming, it was entirely too real.

  Are you ready, then?

  She’d never be ready. She was terrified. And yet thrilled. Her heart hammered, whether from fear or anticipation or a combination of both, she didn’t know. “Yes.” She slipped her mitten back on.

  I will not be able to hear your voice speech while we fly. You must speak mind to mind.

  She swallowed hard again, focused. Like this?

  Well enough. He boosted them off the ground with a thrust from his hindquarters. Then they were airborne. Her stomach lurched. Nausea set in, her customary flying companion.

  Close your eyes.

  For once, she didn’t argue. The pressure in her stomach instantly eased.

  Stretch out your arms, he commanded.

  Her hands were wrapped in a death grip around his upper claw. Even cocooned in a plane, she hated to fly. He was asking too much.

  I will not drop you. Mild reproach filled his voice.

  Easy for him to say. Really, what did she have to lose? She already survived a plane crash. What were the odds she’d fall from a dragon’s embrace and die? Keeping her eyes closed, she took a deep steadying breath and threw her arms wide. The air rushed around her.

  She was flying. She lost her fear as she indulged in the sensations around her. The wind caressed her body, whispering a language she didn’t understand. She felt unencumbered, so totally free that she lost sense of her own body. She was but a part of the breeze, like a hawk that dipped and soared in invisible currents.

  She wanted this, no, needed this. A hunger grew in her, possessed her with a ferocity and desire she had no idea how to soothe.

  Open your eyes. His voice, although soft, startled her out of her reverie.

  She peered cautiously through squinted eyes. Her breath lodged in her throat. My God. Eyes wide open now. They were rushing over an expanse of water, his wingtips skimming the half-frozen surface on either side of her. Her heart beat in rhythm with his. She felt it against her back and thudding through her veins. She kept her arms outstretched, the hunger in her insatiable. He soared upward and did a slow roll where she saw nothing but the stars above her. The moonlight caressed her body. A hint of dawn gleamed in the distance. Navarre dipped to the tree line again, slipping through an opening so narrow the branches tickled her chest and arms.

  She felt him land, a jarring sensation that rippled through his body into hers.

  Don’t stop, she pleaded.

  Without answering her, he set her carefully free. She stumbled as if unaware she possessed feet. She didn’t realize she was crying until she pulled a mitten free and felt the tears’ heat as they spattered the back of her hand.

  Please. She didn’t know what her heart asked for. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against his bulk for support.

  His wing cupped her body, sheltering her from the breeze. Turning, she dropped her mittens and laid her hands flat against the membranous tissue. Blood to blood, something called deep from inside her, yearning to give birth to wings. The tip of his tail flicked over her shoes. The tears continued to flow. She felt trapped. Sliding to her knees, she stretched out her arms as he had done before transforming before her eyes. Nothing answered her.

  His body rippled beside her, then he was human again. He dropped to his knees, took her arms and gently lowered them down, then cradled her to his chest. He did not know how to ease the pain he created in her, could only watch as it blossomed and exploded in her eyes. She could feel his guilt as if it were her own, but she had no idea how to wall herself away from him.
He had pushed her too hard and too fast.

  But she had to be made to understand. She had to believe.

  I believe, she wanted to scream.

  She buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed. They racked her body, worsening when she tried to catch her breath and stifle them. He gave her no answers, merely stroked her hair and murmured words she didn’t understand into her ear.

  When she had finally cried herself out and held still, he pulled them apart. He wiped the last of her tears away with the back of his hand. Touching his lips, he tasted her salty tears.

  “The Dragoon do not cry,” he said softly.

  She sniffled, embarrassed. “I usually don’t either.”

  He brushed back a tendril of hair on her cheek with his knuckle. “I am sorry for that. I need you to believe.”

  “I don’t know what to accept as true anymore.” Flying dragons. A woman who did not burn. A forty-five-year-old woman with a sixteen-year-old’s libido. The last roused her. “Do you know who my birth parents were?” She had to ask.

  He shook his head, eyes full of regret. “The Dragoon were far-flung and prosperous for many centuries. Then the Hunters came. How your parents managed to escape the purging, I cannot answer.”

  She trembled in his arms, too afraid to give voice to what burned in her heart.

  “If they gave you up, it was because they were dying or had been found out,” he continued.

  Part of her always knew they were dead. She accepted it now. She could see the pain she was causing with the answers she forced out of him, but she couldn’t cease. “How did the Hunter find me?” And you, she wanted to ask. How did you dance into my dreams?

  His face was that of a bronzed god’s, immobile and immune to emotion, but his eyes and voice betrayed him. “You stopped hiding when you halted the airplane.”

  She stilled, suspended her disbelief and chose, finally, to believe. If this was no more than a deep drug-induced hallucination, she was willing to die in it. “Can I fly?”

  “I hope to Heavens it is so,” he replied fervently.

  Then he surprised them both, bent his head, and kissed her. His lips were firm, possessive and impossibly hot. His breath filled her and she tasted fire. The spark continued as he seized her lower lip in his. Their eyes opened, gazes locked for a moment. His were liquid green with the hints of the rainbows she’d seen dancing in their depths. She kissed him back, giving in to the purely physical desire she’d felt for him since she first saw him.