TDWP: The Lady and Her Dragons Ch. 14
A persistent knock on the door did little to disturb the merriment happening in what had become, by default, a variation on a family room, in the hotel suite. The twins were using a full body player game system, which Marie had bought (using Miranda's account) and brought (in haste) to the hotel. She had been invited to stay, by Andrea, but had declined in favor of going home. Andrea had informed her of some of the open after-parties scheduled that night and the next, and said that she'd probably find some co-workers there if she wanted to visit, but otherwise did not halt the stalwart assistant from her chosen option.
"I'll get it." Andrea uncurled from Miranda's clasp. They'd been rooting all the youngsters on, and enjoying the evening, despite the fact that neither of them had gotten to take that earlier wished for private moment. They had actually been having a lovely time. Rafe and Ginny were bright and generally happy children, each with their own likes and dislikes, but compatible enough with the girls that fun was being had.
Andrea took a peek through the door's peephole. Two people stood outside, neither of them familiar to her. She considered whether she should even open the door, but decided it had to be relatively safe. The Truce of the Ball was in play, after all.
She opened the door and stepped in front of it, to block any thought of immediate entrance. Then, drawing upon her time as an assistant, she put on a vague, helpful demeanor. "May I help you?"
A tall young man, who looked both surprised and nervous, exclaimed, "My Lady. We had no idea you would open the door yourself! Our apologies. We did not wish to disturb you..."
"Oh, so it's not me or Miranda you need to see?"
The young woman, who was his companion said, "We do need to speak with one of you eventually, but we were going to go through channels."
"I'm confused," Andrea said and she tracked the conversation back in her head, "So you need to see me or Miranda."
"Yes."
"But you were trying to get an assistant first."
"Yes."
"Okay, now I'm clear. So you have my attention, what can I do for you?"
The two people looked at each other and then at Andrea. The shorter one nudged the taller one a little forward. He wrung his hands a little and then forced them to his sides. Then, bowing slightly, he said, speaking slowly and as if by rote, "House Priestly. House Voris thanks you for your time. We are a small house, just the two of us, but we are honorable and have our own means of support. We are all that is left of House Voris, which was once, much greater. Politics and the economy have not favored our clan. My father made poor choices in friends and even worse ones in enemies. As the sole surviving heir, I can bring only our sword and offer ourselves as worthy allies in the hopes of growth towards the rebuilding of our House. We would dedicate what is left of our vote, which is still viable and legal, to your cause. House Voris formally requests the honor of alliance and or, failing that, we will offer allegiance and take upon ourselves your name ..."
"Whoops. Stop there!" Andrea interrupted. She leaned back, looking towards the family room. "Miranda! This one is for you!" The brunette returned her attention to the two supplicants. She noted they were both shaking with nerves and wondered what was at stake for them. Was House Priestly a first choice or a last chance? Were they telling the truth even?
Their request wasn't something that Andrea felt informed enough to even begin to contemplate. She did recognize the name, knew that she had read it somewhere in the books, but couldn't quite place the where. She didn't even know if Miranda 'liked' them.
She sensed Miranda approaching before she heard her, and turned slightly to see the older woman making her dignified way to them. Andrea noted her lover's stern expression and modified her own to a more neutral one, "Miranda, this is House Voris. All two of them. I don't know their given names. They have a proposal of alliance or allegiance."
Miranda turned her attention to them, her gaze nearly searing. "House Voris comes to me as supplicant. How interesting. And why do you come to me, of all the possible Houses, I wonder? It's surely not because I owe you anything."
The young man swallowed sharply and his thin body quaked more. Andrea began to wonder when the two had last eaten. She wasn't entirely sure their statement of having their own means of support was quite accurate. She also didn't know if it were her place to offer anything, so she most carefully kept her mouth shut.
"I am not my father," the young man said, straightening, but still jittery. "His thoughts and beliefs are not mine."
"I see." Miranda's expression, if possible, grew even more stern. It seemed as if she were taller than those in that small space, even though it was clearly impossible. But it was as if her presence was magnified by her sheer will. "What makes you think I have need of you?"
"I don't... I mean... it's not about thinking you have need of us. It's..."
"We need you, queen of House Priestly," the woman replied. "We can not survive on our own. Our allies have all..." Her expression turned bitter, "... forsaken us. No one will even consider taking us in."
"And you think I will because you showed up at my doorstep ..."
"I was a child when I first saw you... " the man whispered, his eyes dark with a quiet despair. "I did not know then what I know now and my Father, he... was king of the House."
"I know who your father was, boy. I know what the reasons were and I quite remember what your father said to me. I am not a fool to think that you are coming here out of anything, but desperation." Miranda's tone was frigid.
At this point, Andrea felt that she needed to intervene. She'd finally remembered where she'd seen the name of House Voris. They had been active participants in the destruction of House Princhek, Miranda's House before she officially changed the name. However, these two had obviously only been kits at the time, and it would not be fair to blame them for the sins of their fathers. She placed her hand on the small of Miranda's back, rubbing in soothing circles, trying to get her Dragon out of that angry part of her personality that made her lash out before fully considering the possible ramifications, or in this case, advantages.
"You are right," the young woman said. "We are desperate, but that is not the only reason why we've come to you. Not all of House Voris wished destruction on yours. Our own mother nearly dissolved her marriage with our father because of it. The entire situation virtually split the House." She paused for a moment, then continued. "When we were older, Mother told us why it happened. She told us what you are and what you are destined to become. If they were still alive, many of our House would be behind our request."
"What happened?" Andy asked.
"We are not sure," the young woman told her, visibly more comfortable talking to Andy rather than Miranda. "Shortly after House Priestly made its debut at the last ball, members of the House, regardless of allegiances, began to mysteriously disappear or become victims of fatal accidents. Our businesses were sabotaged. Our House was nearly officially dissolved six months ago, seemingly due to a potentially treasonous dealing of which most of us knew nothing about."
"Your father?"
"He's dead." This time it was the young man who spoke, his voice firm for the first time. But he wouldn't look at any one; couldn't look at them.
"The traitorous bastards came to our home, and swarmed us. Someone had disabled our security system and had wrecked our sigils. They came right in. They killed our Mother, though she fought them, and fought them hard. We fought too, but... they were going to take us, to break the house that way, but... our Father wouldn't let them." The young woman's voice was bitter, torn. "He came to us, from out of nowhere. He was there and he fought for our honor. For us. But... you know... It was just him. I don't know how he did it, but... he invoked something and... there was a bright light and ... it was over. Just over. But he was gone. They were gone. Everything was gone, even our home. The only thing left was the sword."
"I... see." Miranda said slowly, her voice a little softer than before. She knew intimately what that was like, even though she had only been an infant when it had happened to her. "I will consider your offer. In the meantime, House Voris, come inside. You both look like you could use something to eat."
Miranda turned and walked away. Andrea smiled after her, and then shook her head at the young man who had opened his mouth, probably to decline. "Don't bother. Just come in. We've got plenty of pizza left."
==TDWP==
Andrea had just finished showing the two young people where the pizza was, when the door rattled with a loud and very serious banging on the door. She knew Miranda was checking on the children. "Excuse me," she smiled pleasantly. "Seems we have someone else at the door."
She glanced through the peephole then took a step back. The door shook again. And this time a masculine voice, Nate's, said, "I know you're in there!"
She considered her options. Really, she didn't have to open the door at all. She could call security. She could call some very dangerous Elves. She also thought, coming right down to it, she could probably take Nate. She had just been surprised that morning.
Then again, what the hell? She opened the door, but did not unlatch it. Now she peeked through the crack and could see him more clearly, wild-eyed and wild-haired. "Quit pounding the door like a maniac. What is your problem?"
"Let me in, Andy. We've got to talk." His words sounded almost reasonable, but his voice was demanding.
"No. I don't think we do, Nate. You need to go ... somewhere else now. Home, in Boston, or to your hotel room or wherever it is you're staying."
Nate crowded the door, as if he could get in through the tiny open space. "You owe me, Andy." He lifted his hand, which was bandaged. "You may have connections now, but..."
"Andrea, is there a problem?"
Brown eyes popped open wide and she whispered, "Oh. That's my signal. Nate, if you know what is good for you, you'd better high-tail it on out of here. Go get some rest. Sleep it off, whatever this is." She stepped away from the door. "Okay, bye."
Nate stuck his foot in the crack of the door, just as she was shutting it. "Oh no you don't. You don't get to put me off like that." He nabbed her sleeve, gripping the cloth between his thumb and the rest of his fist.
Andrea felt herself maneuvered back and away from the door; not quite forcefully, but it was firm. Her arm was extended awkwardly, as that was the only part of her that hadn't quite been retrieved. She looked at her mate and gulped. "Miranda?"
The Dragon's eyes were entirely blue, with blue and white flames flickering in their depth. Her white mane moved and lifted, with shocks of what looked like lightning flickering between the locks. Her lips were pursed. She still managed to look somehow utterly composed, while at the same time absolutely terrifying.
Andrea heard thunder clapping outside their window and looked at the hand on her sleeve, at Nate, who was somehow still talking, though she couldn't hear a word of it, and then at Miranda again. She thought, Ooh. This is bad. Then made an executive decision.
She turned her body, grabbed Nate's fist and yanked it off of her shirt. She said, urgently, "You have to go right now!" She pushed his hand back through the crack and kicked his shin to get rid of the foot in the door.
Nate, oblivious to the warning tone in Andrea's voice, and set on his goal, moved the foot, but only so he could replace it with his other one. He snarled at her, "You can't get rid of me that easily..."
"Andrea..." Her name was said in a dulcet tone that rang shivers up the brunette's spine. It was all the warning she would get, the young woman realized. She stepped back in a hurry. When it came to choosing between her mate, even on a rampage, and defending Nate from said rampage, it was no contest.
Miranda waved her arms and flicked her hands up and the door flung open and was gone. It just wasn't there anymore. Nate, surprised by the sudden lack of surface to push against, stumbled in. He had barely halted when the Dragon made another gesture.
Nate was pushed upright, and then back, by some great and unavoidable invisible force. It was as if a giant palm was pressing against him, until he was shoved against a wall so hard it made an imprint.
Miranda gracefully made her way into the hallway, to stand before Nate, who was dangling a foot off the ground and compressed against the wall. He stared at the Dragon queen with wide eyes. "You perhaps recognize me," she said quietly. "I certainly know who you are." Her nostrils flared, but then her expression returned to that bored, chill and dangerous aspect. "I will keep this simple. You've already been warned about touching Andrea once. I know this, because Andrea told me about everything that happened this morning." Miranda lifted her hand and deliberately looked at it, causing Nate's attention to drift in that direction.
Her thumb ran along manicured nails, but as it did so, the nails transformed, elongating and sharpening. She looked back at him, and spread her palm, so he could get a good look. "And if you are wondering what I think of you, keep in mind, she has told me. Everything." She emphasized. She then pointed and spoke his name then, clipped and cold. "Nate." She pressed her talon against his chest, right at the center where the collarbones meet.
She drew a short, deep line, nearly four inches down, cutting through his shirt. The buttons popped away. Then she drew another beside it and another. He tried to scream, but his voice was muffled by the pressure holding him to the wall. Blood, where he had been scored, bloomed and trickled.
She laid her palm over his heart and then pressed in with her talons. His muscles shifted as he struggled to move and that only dug her talons in deeper. She stared hard at him. His brown puppy eyes were wide open and terrified. Tears struggled down his cheek, which she ignored. He couldn't look away from her.
Flames trickled along her palm and over the talons and filled the divots where she held him. He tried to crawl into the wall, to back away from the pain, but couldn't. "Hear me and remember," she spoke in a near whisper. "Andrea is mine. She has been claimed." She compressed her fingers, digging deeper. "You will treat her with the respect due to a Dragon's Lady, for that is what she is. I only let you live because of who you were to her. To remind you, I grant you this mark. You harm her again, and your heart shall be a cinder." She let go of his chest, the blue flames still roiling in the holes left there.
His eyes stared down at the flames that flickered in his chest and then at the flames on her hand. Horror held his mouth open. She grabbed his tongue with two talons, piercing it fully, the flames searing the puncture clean, "You might foolishly think you can threaten me, threaten Andrea with revelation. Certainly your meager thoughts would drive you to say something you ought not. Prevention, therefore is necessary. I bind you, Nathaniel Davis, to silence regarding anyone in and anything about my House or the persons in it. You are forbidden to speak of this event to anyone. Should you try, your tongue shall burn in memory."
She released his tongue with a flick and then stepped back and turned away from him. She walked back toward the hotel room and through the entryway and past her grim mate. Miranda turned to face Nate again, lifted her hands and flicked them palm forward, as if closing something. She said, "That's all." Then the door to the hotel room reappeared and shut with utter finality.
Nate slid down the wall, finally released. The indentation, where his body had been pressed into the wall, faded away. The fire that burned in his tongue and on his chest, quenched and disappeared, but dark midnight blue scars remained where they had sparked.
==TDWP==
The elevator chimed past levels as it ascended. Cruella, having eluded the watchful gaze of her family and her guard, was alone for the first time since her arrival at the Ball. After all, surely she was somewhat safe here, of all places. The truce was in play, after all. And if she weren't. Well, she was feeling slightly dangerous anyhow.
Cruella allowed herself to stand unnecessarily close to the other Dragon in the small space. She did not know him personally, but it was amusing to watch the reactions of the apparently very married, but suddenly interested male. He kept peeking down her dress, and looking away, inhaling and then peeking again and exhaling slowly, as if trying to control some greater impulse. Cruella hoped his mate, whomever it might be, appreciated the favor. Certainly she had gained some entertainment from it. Pretending to be drunk provided another kind of amusement and she played up being bubbly and teasing.
She was just considering whether to ramp up the game, when the door chimed again and opened. A bedraggled brown-haired man, with shocky eyes and a torn shirt, start to enter and then he paused and did a double-take. He backed up, quickly, and Cruella almost dismissed it as a case of bad-day, wrong-floor, until she inhaled.
Miranda. She scented Miranda... and a touch of Andy.
She turned to the man with a pleasant smile, "You'll have to excuse me, this is my floor."
"I thought your floor was..." he started to say, then seemed to recall that it might be good for her to go. "Oh, of course." He leaned forward, and held the door open.
Cruella gave him a brilliant smile in passing, noting that the other man was still backing up and becoming more hasty about it.
How interesting.
She cocked her head as the man stumbled against a small table, which held a service phone and flowers in a vase. The elevator door whooshed shut behind her. She heard it, but did not let her attention waver. Instead she breathed deeply through her nose, tracing the scents. She recognized, she realized, several flavors: The man himself, which she identified as Nate the cook, and the scent of fear and blood and burning. Miranda and magic. Andrea. She focused on his good hand and watched as he latched onto the vase with it.
"I wouldn't if I were you," she cautioned mildly, as he lifted it up and cocked his arm. Then she asked, because he was so jittery and because she already knew and couldn't resist the taunt, "Did you do something you shouldn't have?"
The vase sailed in her direction. She side stepped and heard it shatter behind her against the metal doors. She tisked. "Housekeeping is going to be very vexed at you."
He darted to her left, running. She rolled her eyes. "I suppose that is as good as an answer." She let her voice carry after him, "Oh, do keep running. I've always loved a good hunt." She leaned down and took off her heels, dangling them by the straps in one hand. And considered the length of the hallway and that he would probably turn at one of the doors that led to a stairwell. So, when she saw him turn, she hastened and then followed him.
He chose up.
Cruella stepped to the edge of the landing and looked up through the wide gap of the stairwell. She could see all the way to the top, could hear the rapid steps of the man running. She could smell his fear, smell the scent of her bonded upon him. It mixed strangely and Cruella felt a swell of excitement rising from her center to her chest and behind her teeth. He was running. Away from her. The hunger that had been heating within her, began to simmer.
A very ancient and deep primal trigger within suddenly sprang. The growl that coursed through her and changed the shade of her eyes was barely voluble, but it could be felt. She felt it. And two other people felt it, though they were down the hallway in their suite.
She grinned and made a prodigious leap, sailing upwards. She grabbed the railing on the way, landed and then jumped again, scaling up the stairs after the man in easy ascension.
He had no idea. By the time he thought to look down to see if he was being followed, she was above him, watching him with a predator's gaze. He stopped at a landing with an exit, opened the door and went through it.
She followed.
==TDWP==
Andrea did not understand what was going on, except that she had experienced a tremor of something indescribable, a palpable shift in the universe and it involved Cruella and danger. Miranda was already acting on it, alerting Cara, who had been in an adjacent room that they needed to leave promptly and swearing House Voris to service in quick, quiet terms, and then grabbing her mate by the hand. "We must stop her."
The brunette might have been puzzled as to what Miranda might mean, but she trusted her Dragon. Once Cara entered the family room, she allowed herself to be hustled out the door and led at a near run down the hallway.
They both paused at the elevator, taking in the shattered remains of glass and strewn flowers. The water was soaked into the carpet. Miranda took the risk of extending her sense along the bond. It was simply a chance they had to take. She pointed and said, "This way," and they were off.
==TDWP==
Nate careened down the hallway, several levels up. Panic kept him running to doors, checking the numbers and then running further. He couldn't remember quite where his room was, except that he knew it was on this floor. He looked back and was shocked to see shadows and a dark purple fog spilling forward ominously. It obscured the path, dimmed the lights and utterly changed the way the hallway appeared. The doors that he knew had been there before, disappeared from view. He saw a pair of eyes, huge, luminous, licked with red flame. Then he saw teeth, wide and long and pointed; a dragon's mouth in the darkness.
"Nate. The. Cook," said a terrifyingly familiar voice, "You touched her! After I specifically told you not to." The accusation echoed as if the hallway was a cavern and carried a hiss of ire that caused the hair on his neck to stand. The billowing dark clouds swirled. The dragon's teeth disappeared and moments later he saw a brief glimpse of the woman in the red dress. Death was in her smile. She walked as if there were no hurry at all and his fate were inescapable, and where she walked, dark dangerous shapes grew. Tendrils, in a purple so dark they were near black, crawled along the floor, the wall, reaching for him, grabbing and stumbling him. He saw the flicker of flame in the fog, purples and reds and amber, popping like tiny starbursts, confusing rather than illuminating. The air trembled and he felt wafts of chill and steam brush against him, filter past already torn cloth to his skin; burning and freezing.
Nate squealed in terror, dug frantically in his pant pockets, seeking the card key as he hastened, but he was slowed and felled, collapsing forward. He never hit the ground, but was lifted upright and turned until he was facing in the direction of the woman. He looked to see his feet and his legs had been wrapped and tied. The tendrils looped around his thighs. He reached down and tried to pull them off, but they twirled around his hands, becoming tighter the more he struggled. "No. No. No!"
"Oh. Yes. Yes. Yes." The woman said as she drew closer. He saw horns, one dark as ebony on the white side and one light as ivory on the black side, looping like a ram's through bi-colored hair. The black and white strands waved and mingled. "I warned you," Cruella said as she drew close enough to touch, which she did. His skin tingled where her hand touched. The air shimmered around her, while the purple fog roiled from the ground up and covered his feet, legs, thighs, hips.
She pulled away and she examined her nails for a bit. He watched as yet another woman's nails changed until he saw talons. He tried to back away, but his feet were not even touching the ground anymore. She stepped forward and touched the side of his neck, behind his ear. Nate inhaled in fear, drawing in air through his nostrils.
"It is too bad," the woman purred, stepping closer. "I can see the appeal. Physically, I mean." He didn't mean to lean forward, but almost couldn't help himself. She might be scary, but she smelled fantastic. He felt her grasp his hair. She pulled, not quite hurting, but he felt a dribble of something roll down his neck and knew it wasn't sweat. "You are," she said, "quite pretty. Soft brown eyes, and full lips. I'm sure she enjoyed kissing you." She leaned forward, brushed her lips just above his, not quite touching. "What was it like, kissing Andy?"
"I... I..." He tried to tell her, hoping it would save his life, but couldn't speak, couldn't even utter Andrea's name. Tendrils continued to wrap around his body, now moving less as constriction. He felt one slide between his legs and press. He gasped, torn between fear and a strange, growing arousal.
She drew away, and as she did, he realized she'd freed his belt and drawn it through the loops. "I don't suppose you've forgotten, like you did my warning, have you? That would be a shame." He began shaking his head wildly.
No. He hadn't forgotten. He hadn't. He remembered kissing her. He had no way of saying it. But...
His trousers were drawn down over his legs and disappeared into the cloud.
She let her glance cast down. "Commando. I don't know whether to applaud your efficiency or to decry your laziness." Then her smile turned sultry. "Oh. I see now. One can not fault her on her taste. No. Not at all. Did you plan on using that on her today?" She caught his expression, and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, of course, you did." She patted his cheek mockingly. "I understand. You went to see the darling girl, intending to prove who ruled the roost. We did bruise your ego. But..." A tendril ripped open what was left of his shirt. "Then there was La Priestly." The belt snapped in the air, crackling like a whip. The hand still at his neck released his hair and drew down in an s-curve along his neck and shoulder, and down further until her palm covered his heart, where Miranda's palm had been. "Interesting. I'll bet Andy even tried to warn you, and you, fool cook, ignored her." She shook her head and tisked. "So many warnings given. All to be ignored. I think it's time for consequences!" She sounded horribly playful.
"Oh God." He said.
"No, young man." The woman said, "Cruella. But you may call me Goddess, if it helps." She caressed the marks where talons had burned into him. "You are... tempting. But... one must have priorities. And I don't think Andy would be happy with me if I tried you out. Though... by a certain logic, you having had her, and then me having you, would be me having her. Problem being, then you would have to go away. Forever. Can't let you have my Andy again. You see?"
He shook his head, rejecting the logic and how reasonable it sounded at just that moment. She dangled his belt and let it go. A tendril grasped it, and he tried to track it for some insane reason, but it faded into the roiling fog. "I do think we should move to someplace a little less public. Don't you?"
The tendrils, which had wrapped around his arms, forced his hands up. His good hand held the key card and the envelope that held it. She grabbed it from him, examined it, obviously reading the room number from the envelope, and gave him a sideways glance. "Ah. Perfect." The smile she offered glinted dangerously, "Privacy."
Nate cried out as he felt himself lifted, and flipped until he was on his back, not quite floating. He could feel the tendrils flickering eerily along his back, carrying him. The woman's hand was on his belly, not quite pressing down, but he could feel her talons there and knew that if he made the wrong move, she'd carve into him without a second thought. One would have thought the terror would have cut down on the rising pressure below, but something was having the opposite effect on him.
Unlike himself, she found the room quite easily and he heard the card slide in and then out. She pushed the door open and the fog rolled in. Nate watched as the lights blinked out and disappeared, to be replaced with dark luminescence and he saw tendrils waving from the ceiling and the floor. "Not much longer, Nate." The words sounded soothing, but he knew that was an illusion. Terrible things were about to happen. Terrible, wonderful, deadly things. And a part of him wanted it desperately, while the other part... his screams were echoing through the fog which surrounded them, but then they faded, as if the fog were absorbing the sound.
She turned and stepped away. Then said, unsmiling as she waved her hand toward the door, "After you."
==TDWP==
They wasted no time on plans. Miranda was faster, but desperation added speed to Andrea's choices. They split up. One went towards one set of stairs on one end of the hallway and the other toward the other. One of them was trailing the shimmering bond, which while at the same time as growing stronger was also growing darker. The other entered the stairwell, thinking of running up them, but ended up stumbling when she entered the space.
There was a scent. A glorious, amazing, body thrilling smell. Andrea didn't mean to stop and stand and breathe in, but it tingled through her, buzzed along her skin and the ambient mark that was Cruella.
The sensation pulled her, tugged her. Up and up the stairs. She practically flew, she was taking the stairs so fast. Andrea slammed the door open so hard, that it clanged against the wall. Then she was in the hallway; only it wasn't.
It was like she'd entered a cavern, only it was a live thing. The purple shadows and tendrils pulled back and gathered, as if to strike mightily. She barely saw them. She craved. She needed. She would have her.
==TDWP==
Miranda waved the door away and was through it, in a matter of heartbeats. She had flown, wings spread and up, until she was in the transformed space. She drew in breath, and shivered with the succulence that was Cruella and hissed at the scent of Nathaniel. Of course, it would be him.
She drew in her wings and her power drew in around her, pooling in a white and blue fog at her feet and then up. She began to walk forward with determination, and where the tendrils reached, met them with her own, wrapping and twining, becoming more sensual with each passing moment.
==TDWP==
For a moment, nothing moved. Nate's scream petered out, unfinished, and distracted by the fact that the Goddess' attention had shifted. She was looking, not at him, not at the room, but somewhere out. Her head swiveled from side to side as if she could not decide which direction to look in.
"And just what were you proposing to do with that?" A cool, composed voice drifted through the fog. Nate's eyes widened as he recognized both the voice and the tone. He shuddered and tried to crunch in, but the tendrils held him fast.
"Tut," Cruella said, "None of that." She lined a mark down his belly, toward his groin and blood welled. He tried to scream, but a tendril covered his mouth. Then she turned her attention in the direction of the voice. "And does it really matter to you what I do?"
The darkness parted, made way as the other Dragon stepped into view.
"You've ruined your clothes." Cruella said, noting the wings.
"Clothes can be replaced," Miranda said easily, her eyes sparkling. "You seem to be ready to lose some clothes."
Cruella carved a parallel line beside the first one. "This. Oh, it's just a..." She smiled slightly, inhaling, scenting her Dragon, "... mild distraction," she said, as if it explained everything. "He touched her and then you and then he ran away."
"Well, to be clear, I touched him. Not the other way around."
Cruella flat out growled.
Miranda smirked, setting a hand on her hip, "But only to punish him."
"I am going to punish him now." Cruella said as she drew another line down. All three lines now matched with the lines above Nate's heart. It provided symmetry, which pleased the fashionista at that moment. She waved her hand over the lines and purple and red flame flickered to life along those bloody marks.
He was screaming, but no one could hear him. Tears trickled down the side of his face.
"Darling. I'm afraid you mustn't. Not right now."
"But. He was going to try to take Andy away." Cruella's tone looked at Miranda as if that argument should win her over. But when the other woman's gaze remained only darkly tolerant. Cruella looked down at Nate balefully as if he were causing her no end of trouble.
Miranda moved closer. The tendrils where she moved touched with Cruella's, in growing ecstasy. "I know. And I stopped him." She said it firmly, calmly. Somehow. She was fighting to remain strong, for all of them. Knew she could not touch Cruella just yet; did not dare.
Cruella paused and then added her trump argument. "I told him what would happen if he touched her."
Miranda started to answer, but before she had to provide a reason for Cruella not to do what she planned another voice was speaking.
"And why are you touching him?" The words were flung out, spoken in staccato and seemed to bounce around the walls. Andrea pulled into view, outrage seeming to vibrate the shadows into cowering around her. Power circled around her, unformed, but causing tremors in the air around her. Tendrils reached, were caressed, but then pushed away as she stormed towards the small group.
When she got there, she grabbed Nate by the hair and yanked him out of the magical grasp with a bruising effort. His body was suddenly free of constraints, but before he could do more than try to reach back and free his head from Andrea's grasp, she had whipped him around and pushed him against a wall.
He stared at her then in shock. Soft brown eyes had gone black with fury, but he could see lightning in her eyes. "And where are your clothes?" She shook him, by the hair, bouncing him against the wall like he was a toy on a chain. Her voice echoed through his body, sending shivers down his spine. He had no idea she was so strong. And so angry. "You just had to show off! How dare you tempt Cruella like this! How dare you try to take her from me!"
Nate's eyes widened. He began waving his hands as if to ward off whatever was coming down the pike next. "No no no no. What? I wasn't... no... No. It wasn't..."
The Dragons were watching, surprised, aghast; amazed. Growing more aroused with every moment. They both had the same unspoken thought. Andrea was glorious in her rage.
The hand not holding Nate to the wall suddenly glowed and flames began to flicker along her palm.
He yelped, wondered when the nightmare would end, begged. "Andy. Andy. Please. It's not... I didn't..." She grabbed him by his root and fire wrapped around his manhood. His eyes rolled back in his head.
"Don't you dare faint!" She shook him. Then, when she had his agonized attention, she said, "You listen, and you listen good. You leave my Dragons alone! You stay away from me! I warned you and warned you and you blew me off. I begged and you left me. And this is the last time I give you a warning, Nate. The very last. You better remember it. You better not forget. Because I won't take it kindly, Nate. Not at all. You hear? Do you?"
"Yes! Yes. Please let go. Please!"
"We're done. We're done and we're through." Andrea glowered. "You better not be touching or panting after what is mine again."
She let go of him abruptly, shoving him away roughly as she turned and pointed at Cruella. "And you..."
She started forward, only to met by a resisting force. Miranda. "No!"
"Mine!" She reached past Miranda, arm outstretched.
Cruella lifted her hand, as if compelled to reach back too.
"Andrea!" Miranda snapped. "No." Then she said more gently, "My Lady. No. Now is not the time"
"But... but... She smells so good, Miranda. I can practically taste her," Andrea licked her lips, pressed against one mate, still reaching for the other.
"I know," Miranda said gently. "I do." The older woman wrapped her arms around her mate, forcing the outstretched arm back down, grateful that the magical fog still covered them all. She turned her head to the other Dragon. Her Dragon. Their Dragon. "I think, Cruella, you should go to your rooms, while you're able; while we can let you go."
Cruella stared hard at the two other women, her need blazing, nearly pleading, in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened as she glared at the man cowering behind them. She flung the truth at him, needing to vent it. "This is your fault! We were fine until you showed up."
"Go on now." Miranda coaxed. "I'll … take care of this."
Cruella huffed, then, drew in a calming breath, and threw down words like a gauntlet, "This isn't over."
"No. It is not."
"And you, Andrea, are to go to our rooms. Right now." Miranda put pure inflexibility into her voice, hoping that long ingrained habit from times past would intercede. "I will be there soon. Go."
The young woman looked as if she might argue, then snarled in Nate's direction, before turning and stalking away in the opposite direction from Cruella.
Miranda turned her attention to the man. "In the morning there will be a ticket to Boston at the front desk. You will get that ticket and you will go home to your girlfriend." She stepped closer. "Now open your mouth."
He shook his head. His hands were covering his groin, at last. She gave him the look that mothers had perfected over thousands of years. "It's for your own good. Open your mouth."
Once again Nate found his tongue grasped and his ability to pursue certain topics removed.
This time, however, Miranda was almost... almost sympathetic. "I think you ought to do your very best to forget what happened here. You will be pressed to explain things, I'm sure. If you need help, Runway did an issue on tattoos and body art last year. It may provide you with an adequate cover story."
Before he could go, she tilted his head up with two fingers. "You have been dealing with things outside your normal ken here. You'll see more now. I will send someone to help you after you arrive in Boston. You will accept their help. And perhaps, in a year or two, you may find yourself useful and sane again. At which time, we might revisit your punishments and the privileges of association. This is much bigger than you, Nathaniel, and you would have done well to leave things be. These are things of destiny and have nothing to do with you." She shook her head, declining to explain more, "For Andrea's sake, again, I extend you rare mercy. You will have a job in Boston still. Don't expect another chance. So, go. Get cleaned up. Get some sleep. Wake up and go home."
Nate nodded, the tears in his eyes there for a different reason. She helped him up, guided him back to the room, which was suddenly his again, and shut the door.