"Allowed?" I gasped, struggling to keep my voice low. A few people sitting nearby glanced over at us, but no one else seemed to notice. My throat ached with the need to yell at Drake, while my body warred with my mind over whether or not it would be a good idea to throw myself in his arms and kiss the fire right out of him. My mind won the battle, but my body had its revenge—unable to resist the temptation, I pushed back an errant lock of his dark hair from where it had fallen over his brow. "You did not allow me to do anything, you scaly-skinned lizard. We had a little fling, it didn't work out, I left. End of story. There was no allowing going on anywhere."

"You are my mate."

"So you say."

A tiny little wisp of smoke curled out of his nostril, always a sign that I was pushing his notoriously short temper. "You came to me of your own accord last night."

"Only because I was being plagued by naked men, and you're big enough and bad enough to scare them off."

"You want me."

That last was said in a low, sexy growl that set my whole body vibrating. I thought about denying his statement, but I knew if I did, he'd consider it a challenge and feel obliged to prove he could arouse me with just a look.

"Yeah, I do. But you want me, too, so we're even Steven."

"I need you."

My mind ground to a halt at his words. I had a horrible suspicion that my mouth hung open a little, too, but I was too stunned by his admission to worry about that. "What?"

"You are my mate and an important member of my sept. I need you. The summit cannot continue without your participation."

"Me? What on earth do I have to do with anything dragonish?"

"Mates bear an important part in our society. If something was to happen to me, it would be you who would control the sept. It is tradition that mates are involved in all important decisions."

"But I don't know anything about you guys! I wouldn't know what to do at an important summit"

"You sit next to me and answer any questions asked of you. That is all. It will not be difficult. I will conduct the actual negotiations. Your role as mate is primarily one of showing assent and support for my proposals."

I shook my head, more to clear it than to negate what he was saying. "Drake, I appreciate the fact that you think I have a role to play with your clan, but we've talked about this. It's not going to happen."

"If you do not help me, the dragons will war, and although our peace has been tentative, a full war is something that has not happened for seven hundred years. The last time it happened, the mortal world suffered most grievously."

"How?" I asked, unable to keep myself from asking.

"Plague. As a result of the last dragon war, a plague struck Europe and twenty-five million people died. Do you wish to risk such an atrocity recurring?" I stared deep into his emerald eyes to determine the slightest sign of deception or ulterior motive. His eyes were unshadowed by anything but sadness. "Lunch is at two in the atrium. Wear something green."

The black plague. He had to be talking about the black plague, which struck Europe in the mid-fourteenth century and decimated almost half the population . . . wear something green" Drake walked away without waiting for me to answer. I ground my teeth, biting back all the things I wanted to say as I stormed into the hotel, swearing this was the very last time Drake would have the opportunity to manipulate me. Damn his finessing self, pushing me into doing his wishes by giving me a choice between two evils.

I could bring down a plague upon the world, or I could have lunch with a few bossy dragons. When put that way, it didn't seem like such a momentous choice to make.

I just hate it when I'm wrong about things like that...

   Chapter 8

"You forgot about me!"

"I did not. I just got a little busy."

"You forgot me and you left me. Two strikes, Aisling."

"I was held up, that's all."

Jim shot me an accusatory glare as we waited outside the hotel for Rene, "You said you were waiting for your appointment with Moa. How busy can you be just hanging around the lobby?"

"For your information, I was trying to deal with some non-Otherworld businessman staying here who wouldn't take no for an answer. He all but ripped down the door to our room when I tried to escape. I had to call security."

Jim rolled its big eyes. "Oh, right. Like I'm going to believe that?"

"It's true! I was accosted! Hit on! By some guy in a nice suit, and no, he wasn't old or insane—at least, he wasn't old."

"Ha!"

"Moa never showed up, either," I said, kicking irritably at a pebble on the pavement. "You'd think she would at least have left me a message on the message board, but no, she just left me waiting for her in the lobby, fending off randy businessmen."

"A likely story. You forgot me, pure and simple, leaving me to the nonexistent mercies of that butch Guardian who sent me into limbo." Jim's body shook. "It was horrible, a ghastly nightmare of nothingness, just me and a couple of late-night talk show hosts floating around with nothing to do but listen to them name-drop. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I don't know why you're complaining. They fined me a hundred euros for your containment. Do you see Rene's taxi?" I stood up from the wooden bench alongside the lobby doors and peered down the curved drive that ended at the front of the hotel. It was the only place cars were allowed on the whole of Margaret Island, and thus far Rene was ten minutes late.

"No. But fruit girl is at six o'clock and coming on strong."

I turned to smile at Tiffany as she greeted us. "Hello, Aisling and Jim. That is a very pretty dress, Aisling. I had one just like it when I was going through my Romany stage, although I quickly outgrew it when I realized that all those ruffles and flounces made my hips look positively huge. Why is Jim wearing a towel around his neck?"

I smoothed my hands down my lightweight gauze ruffly, beflounced broomstick skirt, wondering if Tiffany was being catty or if my hips did, in fact, look so massive she had to give me a gentle pointer. One glance at her white denim miniskirt and matching halter top left me be-beving the latter. She didn't look catty—she looked fashionable. "Jim managed to leave the last of its drool cloths in limbo, so now it has to wear a towel. Do you think if I belted this blouse instead of tucking it into the skirt it would be more flattering in the hip region?"