“No. The bed is wet.”

I looked at the bed. “Oh, man, we forgot a condom. And ... er... is that all me?”

“No, it was the ice cube melting.” He laughed at the no-doubt horrified look on my face that faded with the assurance that I wouldn’t need to be visiting my gynecologist in the very near future. “You’re not heavy. If you insist on talking, you have to stay here.”

I allowed myself to fall back onto his chest, rolling onto my belly, resting my chin on my stacked hands.

“Deal. I have a couple of things I want to know, but first, you get a big gold star and an A for the semester for the ice cube idea, although the next time it’s my turn.”

“I look forward to that,” he said, a smile in his eyes. I kissed his eyelids. “What else did you wish to say? If you want to know what I’m thinking, I’m afraid it’s beyond me to describe the rapture our lovemaking generates.”

“No, I’m not going to ask you that,” I said smugly, drawing a protection ward on his chest. It burst into flames as soon as I gave it a bit of power. I frowned, patted it out, and rested my chin on my hands again. “I want to know what Dmitri meant by saying you were more human than dragon. Why did he call you Drake Fekete, and why on earth did he say I should ask you about your father?”

Drake’s chest rose and fell in a sigh I felt down to my toes. He was silent for a moment, his hands warm on my behind. “I suppose you should know my history.”

“That would be nice. And just so you know, this falls under the sharing category, so you get bonus points for doing it.”

He didn’t respond when I nibbled on his chin, but his fingers tightened on my butt. “Fekete was my father’s surname.”

“OK. So that was your original name before you took over the sept and got to use Vireo as your name?”

“No, my name has always been Vireo.” His eyes were a dark green, the irises so narrow, they were mere slits of black. I wondered at that telling reaction—Drake’s eyes only went dragon when he was highly aroused or under the influence of a strong emotion.

“Sweetie, if you don’t want to tell me this, you don’t have to,” I said, aware that beneath me, he was tense. “I’m not going to push you into telling me anything, Drake. If it’s something that you don’t feel ready to tell me yet, I can wait.”

His hands slid up my back, wrapping around to hold me close. I felt cherished, protected, safe ... and as if he was clinging to me like a lifeline. I snuggled my face into his neck and kissed his pulse point.

“It’s not that I’m unwilling to share this. I’m just not sure how I can do so without dealing with a lot of history that would probably bore you.”

“Doubtful. Try me.”

He sighed again. “Fekete in Hungarian means black?’

“Black?” I pushed up for a moment to look at him. “Black as in black dragons?”

“Yes. My father was a black dragon.” He pulled me back down onto his chest. I traced the line of his collarbone as I thought about that.

“But your mother is human. So how did you end up wyvern of the green dragons if you’re a black dragon?”

“It’s complicated. Dragons take their lineage from their father’s family, but in special circumstances, the paternal grandmother provides the bloodline.”

“And you were one of those special circumstances?”

“Yes. My grandmother was a green dragon. When I was born, she had no male descendants in the green sept.

She claimed me even though my father belonged to the black sept.”

“Hmm.” Drake pulled the blankets over us as I snuggled closer into him, breathing in his usual spicy scent, and the faint residual odor our lovemaking had left. “Wait. .. I’m confused. Dmitri’s your cousin, right?”

“Yes.”

“That means you guys share a grandmother. But if your dad was a black dragon, that means his father must have been, as well.”

“Yes. But my grandmother mated twice—first to my grandfather, who was beheaded by the French in the late fourteenth century, and later to a green dragon.”

I pinched his waist. “You told me dragons mated for life!”

“They do under normal circumstances, but my grandmother’s life was anything but normal. She was a reeve.”

“What’s that?”

“The closest mortal approximation would be princess.”

I pushed back on his chest so I could look at him. “Your grandma was a princess? A dragon princess?”

“I just said that.” His eyes were just barely glowing green. I smiled at the disgruntled look on his face, kissed the tip of his nose, and resumed a snuggling position. “That doesn’t make you a prince or anything, does it?”

“No. I am a wyvern—there can be no greater honor for me. Reeves are a special class of dragon. Their bloodlines are purest, and they are much sought after by families as mates since their children have exceptionally pure blood.”

“If Dmitri is an example of what exceptionally pure blood can do, I’d rather have a mutt like you.” I kissed his neck just to prove that point.

“I am not a mutt!” he said, outrage dripping from his voice, his hands tight on my waist.

I giggled, and his hands relaxed.

“You have much to learn about genetics.”

“I have a lot more to learn about dragons,” I answered, relaxing against him, a feeling of happiness swelling over me. Yeah, we had problems, and yes, my life wasn’t all I wanted it to be, but all in all, things were settling down. I began to hope our future together wasn’t going to be as stressful as the last few days had led me to believe.

Boy, do I need to be whomped upside the head with a premonition stick.

15

“How’s the lady of the manor doing?”

I set down the Field Guide to Imps, Kobolds, Pixies, and Demonic Minions and gave my own little demon a glare. “One interview. One interview with a potential staff member does not a lady of the manor make. Besides, Drake asked me to check out potential domestic staff. I was just doing as he asked.”

Jim rolled its eyes and sauntered into the small sitting room where I’d curled up to do a little studying. “Don’t tell me you’re not loving the thought of having servants waiting hand and foot on you. You were all Lady Bountiful to that woman.”