Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)

They had too many dangerous secrets, but of all the secrets they carried, there was one they could throw out to appease the nosy Queen’s curiosity. Without a second’s hesitation, Dragos sacrificed it as a deflecting tactic.

He told Tatiana bluntly, “Pia’s pregnant. We haven’t decided when we’re going to go public about that yet—all we knew was that we were going to wait until sometime after she got back from this trip.”

Tatiana’s eyes widened. Her expression, as she glanced at Pia, was filled with both wonder and compassion. “Congratulations,” she said. “That’s amazing news. You must be thrilled.”

“Mostly, yes. We are.” Pia rubbed her face. “Except now this has happened.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” Tatiana told her. “Dragos has made it this far without turning. That’s not just significant. It’s unique. If we can figure out how and replicate it, it could save a lot of people’s lives.”

“Yes.” Pia’s gaze met his. She smiled. “I have a lot of hope.”

“Come into the house with me,” Tatiana said. “It’s been hours since you last ate something. And it’s been just as long, if not longer since Dragos ate something.” She told him directly, “You may not feel hungry, but you should try to eat anyway. I’ll have someone bring out a tray for you.”

He blew out a sharp sigh. “Fine. Thank you.” Then, as Pia lingered, he told her, “Go. I’ll feel better if you eat something.”

She gave him a look that said she knew very well he was managing her, but when Tatiana put a hand on her shoulder, she acquiesced.

He watched until the three women stepped into the house.

Just for shits and giggles, he tried to reach out telepathically to Aryal. How is the search for the Hounds going?

No response. But then he hadn’t really expected one. While he might be healing, he wasn’t healed yet.

Sometimes when Wyr were injured, they healed faster when they were able to shapeshift, so he reached as hard as he could for his Wyr form. He knew it was there, like he knew his own shadow, but no matter how he strained, he couldn’t quite reach it.

Not yet, at any rate, but he would keep trying. The receding streaks on his arm were all the incentive he needed.

He settled back against the Hummer, closed his eyes and reached for more patience. It came more easily as he thought of Morgan of the Fae, and the predator in him realized, it might not be time for him personally to hunt, but it would be again, someday soon.





Chapter Nine





The interior of the house was noticeably cooler than outside, where the heat of the afternoon had taken over. Pia lifted the bodice of her dress up to let the cooler air lick against her overheated skin.

“Is there anything in particular that you would like to eat?” Tatiana asked. “Or is there anything special that you need?”

Suddenly, she was ravenous again. “I feel like I could plant my face in a plate full of carbohydrates.”

“Certainly.” She flagged down an attendant and ordered food for them, and more for Dragos. Then she led Pia into a large, comfortable family room, where French doors looked out over the backyard.

When Eva hesitated at the door, Pia said to her, “Please wait here.”

Eva nodded and eased the doors shut behind them, giving Pia and Tatiana some privacy.

Now that Pia could see Dragos again, she was able to relax.

Tatiana looked out at Dragos too, with a dubious expression. “Is he all right out there in the sun? I can have guards put up a pavilion for him.”

“He’s quite comfortable. Unlike me, he could bask all day in the sun.” Pia chose a comfortable armchair where she could easily keep Dragos in sight and settled into it. She was too unsettled and distracted to search for the small, subtle shadow deep inside, but that didn’t stop her from resting her hand protectively against the flat of her stomach.

Evening was still a few hours away. They were still within their safe zone, and she had at least three more times, maybe four, when she could try without risk to heal Dragos.

Time to take a breath. Time to try to relax. She had been in several tense situations before where a safety margin of four hours would have felt miraculous.

How would Liam and the Stinkpot get along? The thought almost made her smile.

As Tatiana settled on the nearby couch, Pia said, “I can’t imagine how you must feel, knowing your sister might be trying to kill you.”

In the softer interior light, the Queen’s composed expression seemed to sag. “There is no ‘might’ to it,” Tatiana said softly. “Isabeau has already tried many times in the past.”