"Aisling Grey, Guardian- 01 - You Slay Me" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAlister Katie)

I thought their eyes were going to bug right out of their heads as I stormed off to the far curve of the bar, where Drake stood with his back to me as he chatted with two redheaded men.
"Well, if it isn't Puff the Magic Dragon," I said to Drake's back. I didn't speak loudly, but the second the words left my mouth, a hush fell over the entire club. Even the music stopped, as if by magic.
And what a discomforting thought that was.
Drake's shoulders stiffened at my words. He slowly turned around, his eyes shining with a brilliant green light in the smoky darkness of the club. Figuring a best defense was a strong offense, and not wanting to admit that all of a sudden everyone's warnings about wyverns were scaring the bejesus out of me, I took a step forward and poked him in the chest. "You have something of mine, Drake. I want it back. Now."
"Aisling." His voice was just as wonderful as I remembered it, deep and rich, and as soft as velvet brushing against my skin. I shivered at the undiluted effect of it at close range. "I had not expected to see you here."
I pulled myself together enough to give him a disgusted snort. "I'm sure you didn't. I want my aquamanile back."
His eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared. The air of danger that surrounded him-so palpable, I could almost touch it-thickened. The people surrounding us surreptitiously moved back several paces as if they were expecting trouble. I wished I could join them. I felt as if it were high noon, and I'd just stepped into the main street of Tombstone, my trusty six-shooter at my side.
His voice swept over me again, deep with warning. "You are a very good actress. I actually believed your act earlier. I shall not make that mistake again."
I lifted my chin, my insides quaking. I was about to pick a fight I knew I couldn't win. Sometimes I truly am an idiot. "It wasn't an act. I've had a very informative day. I've learned about dragons and Guardians and imps and faeries, but all that is irrelevant. I want my dragon . back, Drake. We both know you have it. So, for that matter, do the police. If you don't want me to call them up and tell them where to find you, you'll give it back to me."
A smile flirted with his lips. Dangerous lips, I reminded myself as my heart started beating faster. He might be a dragon, he might be someone whose name instilled fear in other people, but boy howdy, he sure turned my crank. "Are you by any chance threatening me?"
I lifted my chin even higher. "Only if you intend on making things hard."
His gaze raked me as he took in the pretty poppy dress. "Things are already hard, sweetheart."
My knees almost melted at the double entendre, but I stiffened them and reminded my libido that he was a thief who had cruelly stolen my aquamanile and left me at the mercy of the gendarmes. "I doubt you're going to die from hauling a little wood," I said, purposefully misinterpreting his statement. "Let's stick to the point, shall we? You have my dragon. I want it back."
"I am immortal, Aisling-I cannot die. You, however, are refreshingly mortal." As he spoke, his fingers slid around my neck until his hand was gripping me in. a hold that was borderline strangling.
The silence in the club was so thick, you could have cut it with a piece of toast.
"You can huff and puff and breathe fire on me all you want, Drake," I said, my voice hoarse as his fingers J slowly squeezed the air from my windpipe. I kept my chin up, my gaze firmly on his. "I'm not going to back down. I am not afraid of you."
"No? We shall see about that, shall we?" He moved closer, and every nerve in my body screamed a warning, but I just stood there as he pulled me to him, his arms hard as steel behind me, his mouth swooping down to claim mine. One part of my mind protested the fact that he was kissing me in full sight of everyone in the bar; the other part felt a moment of fear flare to life as I understood the true relationship between a dragon and his fire.
Heat burst through me the second his lips touched mine, the flames of his desire scorching me, licking along my skin until it started infernos within me. Pinpricks of sweat formed along my brow and spine as his fever consumed us, wrapping me in a searing cocoon of fire that stripped the air from my lungs. His tongue touched mine, and the heat that swept through me started to boil my blood. My flesh caught fire. Smoke from my body and the incandescent shimmer in the green eyes before me obscured my vision. I was dying, burning from the inside out, Drake's fire setting every atom within me alight.
Just as I knew I was literally going to burst into flames, something miraculous happened. A door within my mind opened, a door I didn't know was there, one tucked away in the dark recesses of my consciousness. The door opened, and suddenly I had leashed the fire, controlled it, changed it from a destructive element that was meant to consume me into something that added fuel to the desire that flared between us. I turned the fire back on Drake and began to kiss him in return, reveling in the power that was flowing through me as if I were a conduit. He jerked but didn't stop the torturously wonderful touch of his mouth.
Everyone was still watching us, I knew, but that didn't stop me from leaning into Drake and rubbing my hips against him, fitting all my soft curves to the hard planes of his body. I wanted him, all of him, his fire and his body and his soul, right then and there, and I hate to imagine what would have happened if Drake hadn't had the strength of purpose to pull back from me. Unable to look away-let alone think-I stared into his eyes, seeing the flickers of our shared fire in their emerald depths mingled with something that looked very much like surprise, surprise that quickly changed into speculation. Slowly, atom by atom, the fire he'd started within me dropped down to a simmer.
"I believe that round goes to you," he said softly, his voice thrumming through me, threatening to stir the newly banked embers.
I untangled my fingers from his hair and took a step backwards, extremely aware of the voyeurism that I had paid no mind a moment ago. "Yeah, well, maybe you'll think twice about messing with me again," I said with bravado I didn't feel, gritting my teeth over the shakiness of my voice.
The man Ophelia had named the Venediger appeared at my elbow. I turned to face him, grateful to have someone else to concentrate on. He didn't look at all the tyrant sort, as the sisters claimed, nor particularly powerful. Self-assured and confident, yes, but a tyrant? Hardly.
"Drake, you will do me the honor of introducing me to your companion."
It wasn't a question; it was a command. And with it a wave of his power washed over me, making me gasp for air. Maybe tyrant wasn't such a bad description after all. As I caught my breath, I couldn't help but notice that with his words, life in the G & T returned to normal. The music resumed. People started talking again. Waitresses floated through the crowd with trays of drinks and food. The wave of people swelled around us again, leaving us an island of three.
"Aisling Grey, may I present Albert Camus, better known to the immortal community as the Venediger. Aisling is newly arrived in Paris."
The Venediger made an odd sort of formal bow over the hand I reluctantly held out. "I bid you welcome. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you, Aisling. It is not often my humble premises are graced by a wyvern's mate, especially not one who is also a Guardian."
"Do I have a great big G painted on my forehead or something?" I asked, rather peevishly, true, but I really had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. "I don't even know what a Guardian does, let alone why you people think I'm one, but this I do know-I am not anyone's mate, especially not Drake's, so you can just get that idea right out of your head."
"You withstood the dragon's kiss," the Venediger said mildly, but as his pale gray eyes settled on me, I squirmed uncomfortably. An aura of power surrounded him, a leashed power not unlike what I felt with Drake, only the Venediger's was ... harsher. Less refined. Cruder and much, much more scary. "Only a mate could do that. It is clear to everyone what you are."
"I'm glad someone thinks they know what's going on, because I sure don't," I grumbled.
He made another little bow. "As I said, you are welcome at Goety and Theurgy. I am in your debt for providing my patrons with such an entertaining show. It has been a very long time since we've had the opportunity of seeing a wyvern claim his mate."
I blushed at his reference to our little smoochy session, but didn't have time to set him straight before he moved off.
"I am so not claimed. I'm not a mate, either," I called after him. He ignored me. I turned back to Drake, dreading the look of mocking assuredness that I knew I would see in his eyes. A man like him-one who knows he's drop-dead sexy-couldn't help but gloat over the fact that he had really rattled my chain.
I gritted my teeth and raised my eyes to his, but he was looking at me with a puzzled expression that was 100
percent gloat-free. His brows pulled together in a little frown. "You are telling the truth. You truly do not understand who you are."
"On the contrary, I know exactly who I am. It's you guys who seem to be confused. In case you need it spelled out to you, I'm a robbery victim. I am also a murder suspect, thanks to you. Since you are responsible for both situations, you're going to fix things, starting with returning my dragon."
He turned toward the bar and signaled the bartender. "What will you have to drink?"
"Dragon's blood," I snapped vindictively.
He tipped his head as he considered me, his slow smile turning my legs to mush. "Really? Guy, two Dragon's Bloods."
I stared open-mouthed as the bartender returned with two wine glasses filled with a liquid so dark red, it was almost black. "You're kidding, right? That's not really ... er... blood?"
"No. It's a beverage favored by my kind, however."
I sniffed at the glass. It didn't smell like anything other than spiced wine. I took a small sip, gasping as liquid flames burned down my throat, quickly warming my stomach, the heat from the wine flowing out through my veins to every point in my body. "Holy cow," I croaked, blinking back the tears that formed. "That's potent. What's in it?"
"You don't want to know," he said, grasping my elbow and steering me to an empty table in a dark corner. "Now, perhaps we can discuss what you desire of me."
I sat, aware of a distinct sense of loss when he removed his hand from my arm. To distract myself from the unwanted temptation he posed, I lifted my glass again, this time just dipping the tip of my tongue into the liquid.
"Oh, great, now my tongue's gone numb. If I find out this has something harmful in it, you're going to be history."
He grinned. "Nothing harmful."
I relaxed and took another sip, braced for the roar of fire that flooded my body.
"Not to dragons, that is. I've never heard of a mortal drinking it and surviving."
The fire from the drink seeped into my blood, pooling low, in my groin. "You know, it's not so bad this time. Maybe I'm getting used ... What do you mean no mortal has survived drinking it?"
He shrugged. "Just what I said."