The screeching noise of the accident echoed in my head as I lay gasping with pain on the floor of the taxi. My first instinct was to go straight into full panic mode, but I haven’t been working on meditative exercises for nothing. Despite my brain shrieking at me to claw my way out from the twisted remains of the taxi, I kept a grip on my emotions and slowly tried to sort out my impressions.

My ribs hurt where I had fallen in front of the train, but no worse than they had earlier, which meant nothing there was broken. I was trapped under something big, heavy, and hot…which breathed, so it wasn’t the car seat, as I had thought.

“Jim?” I asked, wiggling my feet to make sure my legs weren’t broken. “Are you OK? Is anything hurt?”

“Aaaaagg,” a familiar grumpy voice groaned. “Did anyone get the number of that wrecking ball?”

I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. If Jim could crack wise, then it was all right. “Get off me if you can; you weigh a ton. Rene? Are you all right?”

“I think he’s unconscious,” Jim said, the tremendous weight lifting off me. A shower of glass sprinkled down as the demon struggled to get out of what remained of the taxi. “There’s blood all over and he’s slumped into the steering wheel.”

I swore under my breath, flinching when I used my right hand to lever myself up off the floor. Around us, voices called out questions, horns honked, and far in the distance, an ambulance’s siren sounded. “Crapbeans. I wrenched my hand. Can someone help me?”

Hands reached in through the broken window to pull Jim out. I got to my knees and looked over the back of the front seat at Rene. Two men were trying to open the driver’s door, but it was smashed against the barrier. The door on the other side escaped the impact from the van that hit us, however, so the Good Samaritans quickly got it open and gently pulled Rene out of the car.

“Don’t move him,” I yelled as another man and a woman helped me through the broken window. I held my right hand close to my body but shrugged off the man’s request that I sit and allow him to check me over.

“Rene? Oh, god, there’s so much blood!” I crawled over to where he lay on the pavement, surrounded by our rescuers and interested bystanders. “Is anyone here a doctor?”

“I have first aid training,” a serious young man said as he handed his messenger bag to a young woman. He knelt down on the other side of Rene and did a quick examination. “He’s breathing.”

“Is anything broken? Does he look like he’s seriously hurt?” I asked, using the hem of my dress to wipe some of the blood off Rene’s face. A gash near his hairline explained the blood all over his face…but curiously, the wound wasn’t bleeding anymore.

“It’s difficult for me to tell,” the young man said, gingerly feeling Rene’s arms and legs. “But I don’t think anything’s broken. Internal injuries are beyond me, however.”

Rene’s left leg twitched. I was in the process of using an unbloodied bit of dress to put some pressure on his head wound, but instead I sat watching with stunned wonder as the wound closed itself and melted into nothing.

Two brown eyes opened to meet my astonished gaze.

I leaned close and whispered, “Who are you?”

“A friend,” he whispered back, a little twinkle flashing in his eyes. The siren of an ambulance grew louder and closer as I sat back, wondering for what seemed like the umpteenth time just who he was and why he was in my life.

I allowed the paramedics to pull me aside and check me over for injuries without one murmur of dissent. Rene, however, argued with them that he was just fine, and that the blood must have come from a slight cut in his scalp.

“Everyone knows how the wounds of the head, they bleed like the pig running around without its brain,” he told the nearest paramedic.

The woman looked a little surprised but couldn’t argue with the evidence Rene presented—he looked hale and hearty as he told everyone that he didn’t need further examination.

“I’m sorry about your cousin’s taxi,” I said a short while later, after signing a release form and getting a lecture about being checked out at the nearest hospital. I waved at the paramedics as they left. “I don’t know if it’s shock from the accident or what, but I’m not quite exactly sure what happened. All I remember was seeing a flash of white, then boom!”

Rene stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the wreckage of his taxi. A couple of nearby policemen were directing traffic around it, while in the distance I could see a tow truck making its way through the backup. “The car is not important. My cousin will be angry, but that is what the insurance is for, no? Do not derange yourself over it. You are certain you are not hurt?”

“Immortal, remember?” I said softly, calling out my thanks to the serious young man as he and his lady friend finished talking to another policeman. He and the girl walked over to matching motor scooters. “It takes more than a little hit-and-run to do me in.”

“Oui, but you can still be injured, as can Jim.”

Jim glared.

“Yes, you can talk,” I told the demon, “but keep it low. I don’t need any more attention from the straight guys.”

“Meh. You worry too much about what other people will think.” Jim ruined its disinterested tone by rubbing its furry head on my leg. I knelt down and gave it a big hug, tears pricking my eyes in aftershock.

“Man, a little bang up, and she goes all girly,” Jim said, giving my neck a quick swipe with its tongue. “I’ve seen bunnies fiercer than you, oh mighty demon lord.”

“I’m sorry; I’m a girl. I’m strong, professional, and capable of dealing with life on my own, but that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in a bit of happy tears now and again. Do you think we can get another cab in this mess? I’m late already, and Drake is going to kill me if I miss this meeting.”

“It is important that you be there,” Rene said, spinning around to examine the massive traffic jam. “Non. It is not possible here, but there”—he pointed to a pedestrian mall that ran at right angles to us—“that is how you shall get out. I will arrange for it.”

I have no idea what he said to get the serious young motor-scooter guy and his friend to give Jim and me a lift, but before I could think of any one of a thousand rational reasons why I should not find myself perched on the back of a scooter, Jim crushed between me and the driver as we illegally zipped through a pedestrian-only area, we were through it and on the road again.

“Thanks again,” I told the young man a few minutes later, pushing a couple of pound coins into his hand. Jim shook itself, shot me a few looks to let me know it didn’t appreciate the mode of transportation we’d been forced to take, marched over to a nearby shrub in a big cement urn, and peed on it.

I waved off the couple with more thanks, smiled at a doorman helping an elderly woman out of a taxi, and sailed through the revolving door to the lobby of London’s famed Putnam Hotel just as if I wasn’t bloody, battered, wrinkled, and missing one sandal.

“You are late,” a man’s voice growled at me as I limped up to the reception desk.

“Hello, István. Nice to see you again. How’s life been treating you?”

The red-haired dragon who was one of Drake’s two ever-present bodyguards looked me over from the top of my head down to my one bare foot.

“Better than you. You are hurt?”

“No, this isn’t my blood.”

István nodded and turned to Jim. He said something in a language I didn’t understand. Jim bared its teeth in answer. Without another word, István turned and walked to ward the elevators.

I smiled brightly at the people nearest us, all of whom were gawking with unabashed curiosity.

“I’m a professional,” I muttered under my breath as we followed István to the bank of elevators. “I am a Guardian, and a wyvern’s mate, and a demon lord. What other people think of me walking into a nice hotel covered in dirt, blood, and powdered glass is immaterial.”

“Maybe, but I bet you’re turning a few eyes with the tear up the back of your dress. Hot pink undies, eh?” Jim said from behind me.

I hastily grabbed at the back of my dress, whirling around so my butt was toward the elevators. Which, of course, meant that I was staring out across the packed lobby.

Everyone was staring back.

“Why can’t I ever go anywhere without being embarrassed, attacked, or confronted?” I asked as I backed into the elevator.

István shrugged as he punched a button. The couple next to him took one look at Jim and me and hastily bailed out of the elevator.

“You are different from all others,” István said, folding his arms over his chest as he gave me a dark look. “You should be happy you are wyvern’s mate.”

“I would be happier if I were a wyvern’s mate who didn’t have a torn dress and a bunch of imps out for my blood,” I answered, closing my eyes and trying to get ahold of myself. I had to face Drake, and that took immense energy, even when we were in agreement about life.

“What?” István asked.

“Nothing.”

We were almost to the meeting area when István let it slip that Drake had brought along clothing for me (why, I wasn’t ready to consider yet). Rather than make a fuss over him pulling his usual arrogant crap, I allowed István to take me to Drake’s suite, quickly picked a new dress from the collection that hung in one of the closets, and even sent a little mental thank-you that I wouldn’t have to go before the entire sept grubby, disheveled, and torn.

The dragons had evidently booked a small theater for their sept meeting. I had expected a few key players to show up, but I was stunned by the mass of people milling around, most streaming up and down the aisles looking for seats. At the bottom of the theater was a stage set up with two tables, each with three microphones, flanking a center podium.

“Good god. How many people are here?” I asked István as we stood in the doorway at the top of the theater. Long rows of steps led down to the stage. Most of the lower seats had been filled and more and more people pushed past us, some of whom stopped to look at us briefly before they found seats.

“There are more than two hundred here today,” István said, giving me a none-too-gentle shove toward the steps down. “You sit at bottom.”

“Hmm. Just how many green dragons are there altogether?” I asked, squeezing through clumps of people clogging the aisle.

“Two hundred and thirty-one.”

“Wow. So few. I thought there would be thousands of you. So almost everyone came to this meeting? Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yes,” István said, snarling something at a group of people that had their backs to us. They hurriedly parted and allowed us through.

“I wonder if Drake needs an MC,” Jim said, marching beside me as I made my way down the stairs. “I used to do roasts for one of my previous masters, and everyone had a great time. I was particularly known for my brilliance in mimicry. Oh, look, there’s Pál.”

I waved at the second (and much friendlier) of Drake’s two bodyguards, pausing to look at Jim. “One of your previous masters? You had a demon lord other than Amaymon?”

“Huh? Where’d you get that idea?”

Jim marched on, ignoring my obvious curiosity.

“From—pardon me, sir, I didn’t see your elbow—from you, you annoying little demon. You just said you used to do roasts for one of your previous masters. Who was your other demon lord?”

Jim didn’t answer, just kept hopping down the steps. I grabbed its collar right before we were at the bottom. “Jim, I order you to answer me—who else was your demon lord?”

“No one,” it answered, its eyes avoiding mine. “You going to stand there choking me until I hack up a hairball like a cat, or are we going to go get one of the good seats up front, next to the podium?”

“No, you’re going to…” The words dried up on my lips as Drake emerged from behind the curtained wings. He stepped out onto the stage and with a typically Drake possessive manner, began to scan the crowd. By the time his attention had focused on my side of the room—and me specifically—all thoughts of threatening Jim had melted away.

“Say what you will about the man, he has a hell of a presence,” I whispered to Jim.

“Yeah. And an ass you could bounce bricks off of,” Jim whispered back. When I widened my eyes at him, he coughed and added, “Well, that’s what you said before you dumped him for the umpteenth time!”

“Remind me to order you to wipe your memory each night.” I watched as Drake walked across the stage to the small flight of stairs that led to the theater floor. The way he walked should be outlawed—all sinuous, sleek power, more like he was a panther than a dragon. Yes, it helped that I knew well just how fabulous his human form was, but even fully clothed he was gorgeous. Today he wore black—or what I thought was black until he got close enough for me to see the material of his shirt and pants. The shirt he wore opened at the collar, a beautiful silky creation that had my hands twitching with the need to touch it.

“Mate,” he said, stopping in front of me, nodding briefly to István. “You wore the clothing I bought for you.”

“She was in accident,” István said, surprising me. It wasn’t like him to make an excuse for me. “She was very dirty and bloody.”

Drake’s green-eyed gaze narrowed on me as he examined me. “I see no injuries. You were not hurt?”

“The idiot driver didn’t hurt us, no,” I said, carefully skirting the issue of the incident in Paris. I needed time to mull over exactly what had happened before I decided what steps to take. Unable to stop myself, I touched the material of his shirt sleeve. “That’s a lovely shirt. I thought it was black, but it’s a shadowed pattern of very dark green, isn’t it? Oh. It’s…is that moving?”

I watched in disbelief as the vaguely discernable pattern in the shirt seemed to shift and rearrange itself within the cloth.

“Yes. It is dragonweave. It is worn by only the most powerful members of the sept. I have a dress made from it for you. You’re late, but if you were in an accident, I will allow the insult to pass without punishment.”

“Thanks; it wasn’t exactly my choice of ways to start the day, either,” I said, hackling up a bit at his high-handed attitude. Why had I ever thought Drake could change? It was obvious he was set in an unyielding mind-set of arrogance, dominance, and all-purpose dragon-knows-best. To expect him to compromise in a relationship was…well, it just wasn’t awfully realistic.

“Hi, Drake. I’m here, too, in case you didn’t notice. I wasn’t hurt in the accident, either, although Rene was for a bit, but then he healed himself. Can I have a collar made of dragonweave?”

“No,” Drake said, waving a hand toward the stage.

I sighed an inner sigh at having to take my place on the stage, where more than two hundred dragons would have me in their sights, but reminded myself that I had agreed to be his mate, and that meant I had to take my place at his side for formal functions such as this.

“What exactly is going on here today?” I asked quietly as I took a seat at the end of one of the tables. István, Pál, and a couple of other dragons filled the other spaces. Drake stood between me and the podium, his arms crossed as he watched the audience. A potent silence fell. The last couple of people who had been standing in the aisles greeting one another and chatting hurriedly took their seats.

“I call to order this meeting of the sept of the green dragons on this fourteenth day of August in the year one thousand eight hundred and twenty-two.”

“1822?” I asked, leaning to the right slightly, to where Pál sat next to me.

“The dragon year begins with the formation of the first weyr. Eighteen hundred years ago the black and red dragons formed a weyr.”

I wanted to ask Pál about this mysterious black dragon sept, but Drake began speaking again, so I sat looking attentive, professional, and thoroughly supportive of whatever it was he had to say.

“We will conduct this meeting in English for the convenience of certain people present,” he said, turning to look at me. I smiled a bit hesitantly, not sure whether I was supposed to thank everyone for that courtesy or not. “The first order of business is the formal recognition of the wyvern’s mate, Aisling Grey.”

Drake’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I rose, smoothing down the pretty green dress, grateful I didn’t have to do this all bloody and torn. “Do I say anything?” I whispered to him.

He shook his head, pulling me so that I stood smashed up against him. My brain went into Drake-deprived overdrive, filling me with all sorts of new pain, longing, and a sad, hopeless feeling that I’d never be able to work things out with him, or entirely let him go.

The dragons rose as one giant group, looked at me for the count of three; then all of them, men, women, and children, knelt down and bowed their heads. It was totally unexpected and, for some reason, touched me greatly. I knew that to many of them, I was an unknown, a stranger to their sept, but that they’d accept me so easily made me feel incredibly warm and fuzzy. I sniffled back a couple of happy tears.

“You know, frequent bouts of crying are another sign of early pregnancy,” Jim’s voice whispered from where it sat on the other side of Pál.

I glared Jim into silence, but judging by the shocked look on Pál’s face, followed by his quick inspection of my midsection, he had heard what the demon had said, dammit.

“Dmitri Askov, you do not recognize my mate?”

Drake’s voice rumbling next to me brought me out of a lovely daydream in which I was sending Jim back to its former demon lord. One man, one lone man, stood in the theater of people all kneeling to honor Drake and, by extension, me. The man had the same ageless quality of all the other dragons, appearing to be in his mid-to late thirties, but was probably several hundred years older than that. I hadn’t yet met a dragon under eighty.

“I do not,” the dragon named Dmitri said in a noticeable English accent. Like Drake, he stood with his arms crossed, his dark hair swept back from his forehead in a similar fashion. He was probably a few inches shorter than Drake but was built a bit heavier. I squinted slightly, noticing a faint resemblance in the man’s jawline. All in all, he was a pretty handsome man but not nearly as drop-dead gorgeous as Drake. Could this be a relative? I was shocked for a moment at that thought. I’d never considered Drake having any relatives, despite the fact that he must have had parents at the very least. What happened to his family? “I do not recognize this human as your mate. You have violated the rules for the last time, Drake Fekete. This time you must pay. As will this human you think to inflict upon us!”