“Yes.” He was silent for a moment, at last giving her a smile. “He will hate every second of it to the utmost of his being. I call that penance for all the suffering he’s brought the world.”
“Indeed it is,” Rowan said, then tipped his head a little and nudged me. “And what is your second question?”
I leaned close and said softly, “When you were in dragon form, what did it feel like?”
He took a long, deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. I felt his fire stirring deep within him, and an answering burn inside of me coming to instant life. “Run,” he said.
Chills ran down my spine despite the heat of his fire. “Really?” I asked, glancing at the other dragons. “Right now?”
“Run,” he repeated, opening his eyes. They glittered brightly with passion and desire… and yes, love.
I felt as if I were drenched in fire. “Okay, but this time, let’s have a game plan. Where exactly do you want me to—”
“RUN!” he yelled, and I didn’t wait; I took off.
But as I skidded through the door, I heard Gabriel say, “A chase! What an excellent idea. We haven’t had one of those in far too long, little bird. Rowan, what say you take the lowest level of the ship. I’ll take the middle for our chase, and Constantine can have the upper…”
Twenty
Fall in St. Petersburg may have been Kostya’s idea of lovely, but it certainly wasn’t balmy by any stretch of the imagination. I shivered in the small anteroom that had been assigned as my dressing room. Aisling (heavily pregnant, but downright glowing with happiness), Ysolde, and May bustled between the three rooms given over to us brides, each updating the other.
“All the grooms are present and accounted for,” Aisling announced, her demon dog padding after her.
“As are their assorted hangovers,” Jim said with a snicker.
I glanced at them in the mirror, which I sat in front of while a stylist fussed with my hair. “Oh, dear. Even Rowan? He’s not really a drinker, although I know he would have had a few drinks last night during their joint stag party.”
“He looks like he was dead, got run over with a heavy cart loaded with oxen, was resurrected, and then the oxen trampled him to death again,” Jim said, sniffing at the table that held a plate of snacks, evidently provided by the caterers to keep the brides from fainting away with hunger. “You gonna eat that cheese and bread?”
“Oh, he does not look anything like that,” Aisling scolded her demon, then gave me a brilliant smile. “Rowan looks dashing, absolutely dashing, and I know he’ll be just fine as soon as the headache meds kick in. Jim, leave the food alone! You’ve already eaten both Bee’s and Aoife’s ‘don’t faint while you walk down the aisle’ snackies, and you don’t need Sophea’s as well. Honest to Pete, I can’t take you anywhere…”
They drifted out the door just as May leaned her head in. “How are you holding up? Oh, your hair looks nice. I like the little leaves twined through it.”
“They’re not leaves, actually,” I said, wincing when the stylist, with a mutter to herself, adjusted one of the metal decorations that curled through my hair. “They’re tiny little dragons.”
“Very nice,” May said. “Almost makes me wish we’d done a proper wedding, not just the civil ceremony that Gabriel’s mom demanded we have. Almost.”
She grinned when I made a face at her. “This isn’t my idea of bliss, but it’s kind of nice having a group celebration with Rowan’s sisters.”
“Gotcha. Oh, you have a visitor.” She pulled back a moment, then poked her head back in. “You up for it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, slightly startled. “Who’s the visitor?”
“It’s me!” Mrs. P pushed past May, rushing to me to give me a hug. “Or should I say, it’s us. The other priestesses are in the hall, getting good seats. What a lovely idea you had to get married in a Russian palace. It’s very grand.”
“It is, but it wasn’t my idea at all. For that we can thank the head wedding planner, and by head I mean just that—Gary might not have much to him, but I’ll admit he whipped together a hell of a wedding. How are you? Where’s your Bo?”
“I’m blissfully happy, and my Bo has just run to town to fetch a tuxedo.”
I thanked the stylist when she murmured the hair was as good as it was going to get, and she toddled off to help the next bride. Carefully, so as not to wrinkle my flowered 1950s style dress with sleeveless bodice, bell-shaped skirt, and crinoline underpinnings, I turned to face Mrs. P. “I’m sure he doesn’t need a tux for the wedding. We’re not really being that formal. Aoife’s dress is more of a short dinner dress than a wedding dress. Bee’s the only one who went in for the full princess-style wedding dress and veil. From what Rowan said, not even the men are wearing tuxes. They have some sort of dragon outfit planned, although he wouldn’t tell me just what.”