His cold gaze ran over her bold, attractive features. He didn’t care that her dark gaze still snapped with anger and dislike. All her facial muscles had moved in a close approximation of a smile, and that was all anyone else would see.
He walked her over to a buffet table where they helped themselves to refreshments. As two congressmen approached, he left her to converse with them and circled back around to find Pia.
Pia did end up dancing twice, once with President Johnson, and a second time with Ferion, while both times Dragos held himself in a clench and managed not to bite anybody’s head off.
Not even Johnson’s relative age helped. Despite being a politician in his sixties, Johnson wasn’t an old, ugly fucker. He was still a handsome, fit son of a bitch, and as he whirled Pia around the dance floor, she threw back her head and laughed more than once.
And watching her waltz with Ferion felt like someone just out of eyesight was raking talons down a blackboard. His hands tightened into fists as he imagined grinding the handsome Elf into the polished floor.
“Dragos, is that a flame I see coming out of your nostrils?” Niniane asked.
As he had been obsessing over Pia’s dance, the little Queen had maneuvered to stand directly in front of him, her head tilted sideways as she squinted at him.
He sucked in a breath, swallowing down the fire, and growled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It was too. That was a tiny little flame.” She pointed an accusing finger at his nose. “What are you trying to do, create a general panic and destroy everything everybody is trying to achieve here?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “I was holding myself in check, goddammit.”
She considered him for a moment then said telepathically, I actually believe you think you are. Tiago said you and Pia were in a mating phase.
We are. Goddammit, of course Tiago with his sensitive sense of smell would pick up on that. Dragos might just buy some KO Odorless Odor Eliminator and join the Right to Privacy movement himself.
“Well, just so you know,” Niniane said aloud, patting his arm, “I’m pretty sure I overheard Ferion and Pia setting up an assignation for tomorrow at noon, for somewhere called the Paradise Motel.”
That snapped his gaze away from the dancing couple. He glowered at Niniane. “What the fuck are you talking about? Pia would never set up an assignation with Ferion.”
“I know, right?” Niniane let out a peal of laughter. “Even smart men can be such dumbasses.” When he glared at her, she sobered somewhat and told him, “Stuff that mating nonsense down deep somewhere before you do something stupid. I mean, Dragos . . . Pia and Ferion? Come on.”
“You never used to talk to me that way when you lived in New York,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
“I never used to do a lot of things before I became Queen,” she said matter-of-factly. She gave him a small charming smile. “Besides, you like me, and I’m not telling you anything your brain isn’t already telling your hormones. You’ll deal with it.”
“Dictatorial little shit,” he muttered. “I don’t see you dancing with anybody.”
Her smile faded, and she looked sidelong at Tiago, who stood with his arms crossed, talking with Bayne.
“Yeah, well, I can call out irrational behavior, but I can’t necessarily stop it, can I?” she muttered in reply.
That snagged his full attention. Turning away from watching Pia on the dance floor, he studied Niniane as he switched to telepathy. Everything okay, pipsqueak?
She gave him a quick smile. Oh, everything’s fine. Don’t worry. Tiago and I just have a completely different relational dynamic than you and Pia. You and Pia are all out there—rings, public displays of affection, matrimony and a child, etc. But Tiago and I have to be more discreet about our relationship.
He frowned and rubbed his jaw. Is that a problem?
She shook her head. No, not as things stand currently. I’m pretty sure we’re a well-known secret in Dark Fae society, but as long as we don’t flaunt anything, they’re accepting it. They’re accepting him.