Dragos Goes to Washington (A Story of the Elder Races)

She made a face at herself in the mirror. When Dragos got tired, he just looked more rugged and dangerously sexy, with a piratical hint of dark beard shadowing his lean cheeks. When she was exhausted, she looked like something a cat might throw up.

He left the bathroom, totally nude, and climbed into bed, and it was her turn to use the bathroom. She forced herself upright and went to brush her teeth as well, and splash the last of the cream off her face. Her skin was still blotchy from where she had rubbed it with tissues. She frowned at her reflection and shimmied out of her dress.

Then she reached for her body lotion and propped her foot on the rim of the bathtub to rub lotion on her irritated skin.

A large bright, angry red patch covered the expanse of her thigh. Freezing, she stared at her leg. Then she looked over her shoulder again at the reflection of her still blotchy face.

“Oh, God,” she sighed. This was the last thing she needed.

She hadn’t said it very loudly, but her mate had ears sharper than any other creature she had ever personally met. Dragos said from the bedroom, “What is it?”

“I’m all blotchy,” she complained.

He appeared in the doorway, frowning as he took in her appearance. “Did you eat any of the hors d’oeuvres?”

“Yes, but I made sure to ask if they were vegan first. I always do.”

His frown deepened as he touched her leg with one forefinger. He motioned for the bottle, and when she handed it to him, he began to spread body lotion gently over her leg. “Recipes can be sneaky. Maybe the servers made a mistake, and something had a trace of meat, fish or dairy in it. Do you feel nauseated at all?”

She was vegan, not only by choice, but by nature too. Her digestive system simply didn’t recognize any meat, fish, or dairy products as food.

“No, but I’m still wearing the diamond necklace.” She made a face at him. “I don’t want to be blotchy this week, not while the world’s going to hell in a handbasket.”

He studied her with narrowed eyes. “Take the necklace off.”

Sighing, she complied. As soon as the pendant left contact with her skin, her stomach heaved. Tossing it with a clatter onto the nearby counter, she lunged for the toilet.

While she struggled to rid herself of everything in her stomach, strong hands came down on her, one cupping her forehead and the other bracing her back. Feeling too sick to indulge in self-consciousness, after she finished vomiting, she leaned her trembling body against his large, steadier frame.

“That was utterly vile,” she muttered.

He stroked the damp hair off her face. “It’s better to throw up than have it take the long way through your system. Hopefully after a good night’s sleep, you’ll feel better by morning.”

“True.”

After he helped her to her feet, she brushed her teeth again and followed him to bed. He opened his arms to her, and she crawled over to curl around his long, stretched out frame. Comfort sank deep. Nuzzling the bare, warm skin of his shoulder, she closed her eyes.

Just before she fell asleep, the tired fog lifted from her mind and she remembered.

She had been nauseated well before eating the hors d’oeuvres that evening, and her skin had begun to feel irritated too.

Time to make an appointment to see Dr. Medina when they got back home.

Then darkness called, and she was unable to resist its inexorable pull.


When awareness dawned next, she discovered that she had curled on her side, and Dragos lay spooning her from behind. The room lay in deep shadow, although a sliver of light at the edge of the curtain indicated it was close to dawn.

His warm mouth traveled across the nape of her neck, while he stroked her torso from breast to hip. His large, hot erection pressed against her buttocks.

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