“Sure, dollface,” Eva said. “Any little thing herself wants, herself gets.”
As Eva signaled and cut right from the fast lane to the exit lane, Pia watched the other woman in the mirror and thought, Imma have to kick your ass before the day’s out, aren’t I?
Yeah, it was shaping up to be a great trip so far.
And they were on a mission of diplomacy.
The other Cadillac cut across traffic to join their SUV, and the two vehicles took the next exit ramp. Their choices for stopping included two gas stations, a McDonald’s, a Denny’s and a Quik Mart. Eva pulled into the McDonald’s lot and parked. Pia stepped out and headed for the restaurant. The other six surrounded her so casually it seemed to happen by accident. The psychos had smooth moves; she would give them that much.
Feeling an increasingly urgent need, she found her way to the restroom, accompanied by Eva and Andrea. So far the seven-month pregnancy didn’t show all that much—a fact that pretty much freaked her out if she thought too much about it—and she could keep it completely hidden if she dressed strategically. But the peanut, bless him, was beginning to exert some influence on her bladder. That was going to get much worse before it got better.
The women’s restroom was more or less clean and empty. She pushed past the other two women, slammed the stall door shut and enjoyed a few minutes of what was likely to be the only alone time she would get that day.
Resentment and antagonism were two of the troubles that had followed her. Pia hadn’t really gained acceptance from the Wyr over the past seven months. Oh, she had from some of the sentinels. All the gryphons had embraced her, and Graydon had become one of her best friends. They also knew what kind of Wyr she was and why she and Dragos kept it secret.
The gryphons were the only ones who knew. Not even the other two sentinels did, although that didn’t seem to cause gargoyle sentinel Grym any problems, but then it was hard to tell what he was thinking, since he didn’t talk much. And she had achieved a kind of uneasy truce with the harpy sentinel Aryal—at least enough to spar with the harpy on the training mat several times a week, although they didn’t share confidences or socialize.
As far as all the other Wyr went, in the early days of her mating with Dragos expectation had turned to puzzlement, and then suspicion as the whispering began.
She didn’t reveal to anyone what kind of Wyr she was, because she was stuck-up.
No, she was a fugitive from some other demesne, because Dragos wasn’t the only one she had stolen from.
Or, she didn’t bother to reveal what kind of Wyr she was, because she was one of the antisocial ones, and she didn’t care if she made friends or didn’t fit into any of the packs, herds or prides.
For the Wyr, it was hard to warm up to someone who kept something so fundamental to their nature hidden from everybody else. Knowing that and understanding the reasons why it was there weren’t much help. The low-level resentment and subtle ostracization still felt sucky.
More than half a year later, Pia still felt like an uneasy guest in what was supposed to be her own home. The only real friends she felt like she had were Graydon, who knew everything; the new Dark Fae Queen, Niniane, with whom she steadily corresponded; and a few people from her old job working as a bartender at Elfie’s.
Quentin, the bar owner, didn’t need to know all of her secrets, and she didn’t need to know all of his. And of course there was Preston, the half-troll barfly, who liked to describe himself as an eight-foot hunka burnin’ love, and who really was a sweetie through and through. Preston didn’t care if anyone had any stinking secrets. If you were willing to share a dozen orders of baked potato skins, lathered with cheese, bacon, sour cream and chives, and drink beer while watching the NBA playoffs, you were all right by him.
But Graydon was increasingly busy, and letters from Niniane, while fascinating and wonderful to receive, weren’t enough to satisfy Pia’s social needs, and Pia couldn’t hide at Elfie’s twenty-four/seven. She could only visit a couple of times a week. As far as she was concerned, there were only two things that made living in Cuelebre Tower worth it. One of them was the peanut—and she really had to stop calling him that, because the little fetus was already so smart, she could tell he thought his name actually was Peanut.