The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) (6 page)

If these were truly going to be his last few days of freedom before Kira told her successor who murdered her, he was going to enjoy the small things. The feel of the wind as he dove through the clouds reminded him of the fresh bite of victory after a battle. He would go out on his terms.

He’d find Viola, kiss her senseless, fuck her, and then once that was off his mind, the Cult of Humanity could be dealt with to make sure they never cursed dragons again.

If he died trying to eliminate them, well maybe someone would remember him fondly when the truth came out.

Chapter Eight

After a dismal night’s sleep, Viola used the dregs of her energy to power a last-ditch attempt to pick up the motorcycle from where she’d dropped it. With her back to the bike, she crouched down and held on to the handlebar with one hand and the back seat with the other. Pushing herself to her feet, she used the momentum to lift it upright. It was slow going. Both she and the Harley almost ended up back on the ground. Tears streamed down her face, but eventually it was upright, and she and the screaming pain in her back were on the road again. No one was coming for her, and as much as she wanted to see Sergei’s sexy, scowling face again, wishing wasn’t going to make that happen.

Viola stayed off the highways and took the local roads. When she was far enough from the dugout, she found an A
TM
and emptied her bank account. She knew that she could be traced by using her credit cards, but she was out of money and options.

Maybe the bad guys wouldn’t be watching and the good guys would. Viola would have to be able to run away at a moment’s notice, depending on what showed up. She gazed into the clouds. No dragons on the horizon. She kicked herself for hoping she’d see Sergei flying toward her. The roads were equally clear. So Viola deemed it safe enough and drove around, searching for breakfast.

What she found next to the bakery was like the heavens decided she deserved a break. Knit Wits was a homey yarn store with a cheerful logo and a cat curled up asleep in the window. All her stuff was with Carolyn, hopefully at the safe house, wherever that was, but that was no good to her now. After scarfing down a chocolate croissant and a café mocha, Viola went into the shop. Angels sang a requiem when she entered—or maybe that was all in her head. She hadn’t slept much last night.

The yarn shop even smelled like home—the way home should smell, not like her mother’s house did, which always smelled a little like Pine Sol and desperation.

“Are you okay?” the man behind the counter asked. He was in his mid-thirties and wore a stunning Fair Isle vest. Perched up on a stool, he was knitting a blue cabled sweater.

Viola refused to cry again, even though it was all she wanted to do. Not trusting her voice, she gave him a tight-lipped smile and pointed to the sock yarn. Putting her head down, she made her way there, wiping her hands on her jeans to make sure they weren’t dirty or sticky. Viola fondled the skeins, feeling a little bit of her soul slip back into place with each one she examined and caressed.

“As long as you’re not wearing makeup, you can rub them on your cheek,” he said.

At her surprise, he shrugged. “You look like you need to connect.”

“You don’t think I’m a lunatic?” Viola asked.

“I think you could use a cup of tea.”

And that’s when she decided to make him her second husband. But by the time she’d bought needles, a new pattern, and some outrageously priced—but well worth it—yarn, his husband walked in. Viola resolved herself to getting a bunch of cats and swearing off romance.

“Rick designed that pattern,” he told her, giving his significant other a squeeze.

“I’ve wanted to learn the magic loop method for a while”—she leaned in confidentially—“I hate double-pointed needles.”

“Then you’re going to love this. Let me show you the best way to cast on. And since you’re going to be knitting both socks at once, you’ll have the project done in no time.”

She sat between the men on the couch and listened to them bicker and chat. She got the hang of the pattern and using the two circular needles within a few minutes. It was always easier when someone showed you and then stuck around to make sure you really got it.

Viola was surrounded by her favorite things—a cup of tea, a bunch of yarn, and a new pattern to figure out. She relaxed for the first time in…well she couldn’t remember how long. Even before she shifted into a dragon, she’d worried about her mother, her job, or her dismal love life. Now that she had all of that taken away from her, there was a certain relief in hitting rock bottom. Her eyelids started to droop, even as her fingers knit and her brain recited the lace pattern as she did the stitches.

As she knit away, customers came and went. Either man would get up and chat with them. Every time she started to lull off to sleep, the shop’s bell would wake her, so she concentrated on her pattern. That’s why she didn’t glance up until the shopkeeper’s quick intake of breath made her aware that the energy in the room was now dancing along her arms, giving her goose bumps.

The newcomer filled the room, wearing black leather and oozing attitude. Viola’s mouth twitched in a relieved grin.

“This is the third shop I’ve been to.”

“Sergei,” she breathed, not sure if she was thrilled to see the scowling muscle head or not. “You’re all right. Wait.” She blinked. “There are two more yarn stores around here?”

“They’re not as nice as this one,” the shopkeeper said.

“Of course I’m all right,” Sergei huffed. “Let’s go. We need to fly.”

Shame crushed over her. “I can’t.”

“You have to try.”

“It’ll attract attention and then we’ll be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” the shopkeeper asked. “Do you want me to call the police?” He held up a size-thirty knitting needle and waved it threateningly at Sergei.

“No, that wouldn’t help,” Viola said, putting her knitting down.

“What does he mean, fly?” the shopkeeper’s husband asked, looking at her. “You can take the bus or a train.”

Sergei snorted in derision.

“I’m a dragon,” she said, at the same time Sergei said, “Don’t.”

The shopkeepers exchanged a glance and she saw one of them hide a smile behind his hand. “Of course you are, dear.”

“Well, you’re going to have to fly because I don’t have a car.” Sergei started to gather up her things.

“Be careful with that.” Viola snatched the needles out of his hands and folded up the work so the stitches wouldn’t slide off the needles. “I’ve got an idea. We can take my bike. You can ride bitch.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He darted his hand out to grab her tongue, and she fell back on the sofa in shock. “No,” he said, grinning at her expression. “You saw how well riding worked the last time.”

“I’m devastated about the ’Busa.” Viola looked down at her shoes. That had been a sick bike. And it was totally ruined because of her.

Sergei shrugged. “Better the bike than me.”

“Is that going to be expensed, too?”

“Damn right it is.” He winked.

“You can rent a car down the road,” the shopkeeper pointed out.

“How far away are we from the safe house?” she asked.

The shopkeepers traded nervous glances. That apparently wasn’t as amusing as the concept of her being a dragon.

“The purpose of the safe house means that not everyone knows about it. I’ll go get a car. Stay here and, for the love of Nidhogg, call Carolyn so she knows I’ve found you.”

“My cell phone is dead.”

He tossed her his.

“I don’t know her number.” Viola stared at it. It had a lot of bells and whistles.

“Scroll through the contacts.” He twirled his finger.

“I can give you money for the car,” she stood up to reach into her pocket.

“Expense account, remember?”

Avarice filled her. “Can you expense other things?” She looked at the shelves of yarns, sorted by color in every hue she could imagine.

“Like what?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She spun around, her arms indicating the entire store.

Sergei slapped his credit card on the counter. “Two bags. I’m getting something little and fast, not an SUV. Got it?” He pointed a finger at her.

“Wait,” she said, biting her lip, even as she was gathering hanks of cashmere in her arms. “Who’s paying the expense account?”

“You are. Or your benefactors.”

“But I don’t have a job or benefactors.”

“Sister, once I get you to the safe house you can have anything you want. Except for Madagascar and Australia.” He snorted.

“What?” she asked, but he was already out the door. Viola looked away from the yarn long enough to admire the tight fit of his jeans.

…

Viola kissed her new friends good-bye, and put the two overflowing shopping bags of yarn into the backseat of a Ford Fusion. They promised to guard her Harley until someone from the dragon embassy came and collected it. Giddy from her new purchases, she slid into the passenger seat. She buckled up, plugged her cell phone into the car charger, and continued knitting.

“Happy?” Sergei asked in a tone that suggested he couldn’t care less.

“Thank you for coming and getting me, and thanks for the yarn.”

“I’m not paying for it.”

“I didn’t ask you to. If you hate me so much, why didn’t they send Carolyn to pick me up?”

“Queens don’t go anywhere unescorted, and she and Reed are in Mexico talking to Queen Esmeralda.”

“Wow,” Viola breathed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico.”

“I wouldn’t get my heart set on travelling until you’ve established your Protector and consort.” Sergei accelerated and passed every car on the road.

“Can it be the same person?” Viola angled her head back to see if they were being followed.

“In your case, I’d go for two. The more people you have protecting you, the better.”

“Protecting me from what?” Viola sat back and tightened her seatbelt.

“From little incidents like last night. What happened anyway?” Sergei’s voice was gruff.

Her cell phone rang, playing Fun’s “Some Nights.”

“I should get that.” She groaned when she recognized the number. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Sergei said.

Viola held up a finger. With Sergei’s dragon hearing, he’d be able to hear both sides of the conversation. “Hi Mark, long time no talk.”

“Viola, don’t be like that,” her ex-husband said in that calm, rational voice that always made her want to throw things at his head. “I called because I’m worried about you. I saw you on the eight o’clock news.”

Was she wearing pants? Oh God, please let her not have been flashing her vajayjay on prime time.

“I called your mother, but she told me she no longer had a daughter and hung up on me. What did you do now?” he asked. She could almost see his lips twisting in derision.

Viola’s heart thumped in pain. “What do you want, Mark?”

“I can’t believe that you’re one of the new dragon Queens,” he said with such false cheer that Viola’s teeth ached.

“What makes you say that?” she hedged.

“Why else would dragon thugs be forcing you into a car?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Viola glossed over the incident. “It was a big misunderstanding.”

“I wanted to let you know that if you needed a place to stay, Barbie and I would love to have you.” He sounded sincere, and if she didn’t know what a social-climbing boor he was, she might have fallen for it.

“Her name seriously isn’t Barbie, is it?” Sergei asked.

Viola nodded and rolled her eyes.

“Who’s that?” Mark snapped.

“Let me guess, money’s a little tight and you think you can cash in to the tabloids for selling dragon pictures. I hear they’re paying a grand a pop.”

“How did you know that?” Sergei asked.

“Everyone knows that,” she said, covering the microphone.

“That’s an outrageous assumption,” Mark said.

“What? That you’d use me for money and then leave when you got what you wanted? Ooh, let me see. Can’t think of a time
that
happened before.”

He started to sputter, and she hung up on him.

“Bitch,” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Not you. Him. Although, I guarantee he said it, too.”

Her phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Sergei said, reaching for it.

“It’s not him. He doesn’t like confrontation. Oh, it’s old-home week,” Viola said when she saw the number. She should let this one go to voice mail.

“What?” Sergei noticed her discomfort.

Might as well get this out of the way, too. Viola blew out a breath. “Hi, Turk.”

“Oh honestly, now you’re fucking with me,” Sergei said.

Viola shook her head.

“Hey sweetcakes,” Turk’s voice used to cause her to shiver with reaction because he sounded so dangerous.

“Sweetcakes?” Sergei said.

Now,
there
was a dangerous man worth shivering over.

“I missed you, Mama,” Turk continued, not realizing she wasn’t thrilled to hear from him.

She cleared her throat. “Hi.” It was a little embarrassing to talk to her exes with Sergei in the car.

“You’ve got to be kidding?” Sergei said incredulously and reached for the phone.

Viola curled back into the passenger side and shielded it next to the window. No way. This was her moment to get a little revenge for the jerk who’d conned her out of a bike. He hadn’t returned any of her calls when she was in the weak, post-break-up place. Now he wanted to talk?

“Where are you?” Turk said.

“Why?”

“I thought we’d go for a ride.”

“I’d like that.” Viola flinched at the rumbling sound that was coming from Sergei’s chest. Was he growling? “Wouldn’t Ruby get upset?”

“Man, that ho is so drugged up half the time she doesn’t even know where she is. So where do I meet you?”

“I’m a little busy right now.”

“I get it. You’re going to play hard to get. Pay me back for shacking up with Ruby.”

“I
am
hard to get,” Viola said with a little steel in her voice.

“It’s cool. I like it. You give me a call when you think I’ve suffered enough. We’ve got some time to make up. I got a new tattoo.”

“Yeah?” He had great ink. Too bad he was such a jerk.

“It’s of you.”

“Me?” Sergei was frowning at her, so she wiped a stupid grin away.

“A dragon on my forearm.”

Viola’s ego deflated. She’d been hoping for her name or a picture of the instrument her mother named her after. “What makes you think I’m a dragon?”

“Saw you on the internet, girlfriend. You’re a Queen and I’m going to be your King.”

“That’s it,” Sergei reached out and pried the phone out of her hand. “That’s disrespectful.”

“You give that back to me,” Viola shrieked and flailed about trying to get it.