Free Up In Smoke by Katie MacAlister Page A

“How do you feel about violence against your loved ones?”
    I eyed a nearby silver coffee carafe. It looked heavy enough to dent even the densest of dragon skulls. “I’m starting to see the appeal of it.”
    â€œI completely under—oh!” Aisling hunched forward again as Gabriel slid his arm under her legs.
    Drake exploded, slamming Gabriel up against the wall, snarling something that sounded vicious, his arm against Gabriel’s windpipe.
    Maata and Tipene were instantly at his side but at a gesture from Gabriel backed away.
    â€œDrake, let him down. It’s just a twinge, nothing more!” Aisling said, waving me toward them. “Stop him, May. Although don’t hurt him; I’m rather fond of him as he is, overprotective tendencies and all.”
    I tapped Drake politely on the shoulder. “Would you mind letting Gabriel down? I promise I won’t let him hold Aisling’s hand anymore. Or touch her stomach.”
    Drake eyed Gabriel for a moment. I have to admit that Gabriel surprised me by not fighting back. Having seen him go at it with Drake’s black-dragon brother, Kostya, I knew he was not one to remain passive when attacked. But he stayed still, not struggling at all despite the fact that his face was gaining a dull red tint due to lack of oxygen.
    â€œAll right,” Drake said at last, removing his hold on Gabriel. “But I will hold you responsible for his actions.”
    Gabriel’s eyes flashed in warning, but Aisling bursting into laughter defused the situation enough that he could see the ridiculousness of such a comment.
    I touched a faintly swollen spot on Gabriel’s neck. “Would you like me to kiss what hurts and make it better?” I asked softly.
    He’d been looking at Aisling, obviously about to make some observation about her health, but at my words a new look of interest filled his eyes. “Only if I get to pick what needs kissing.”
    â€œI am so glad Jim is not present to hear that, because it would no doubt make all sorts of inappropriate comments that would force me to smack it with a rolled-up magazine, and then we’d be back to Gabriel groping my stomach and Drake having a hissy fit,” Aisling said, helping herself to a glass of orange juice. “Please do have some breakfast, you two. Without any ribald intent to the following comment, you both look like you could use a little food. Did you tell May about the sárkány yet?”
    â€œThe what?” I asked, distracted when Gabriel, in the act of seating me next to Aisling, trailed his fingers across the back of my bare neck.
    â€œ Sárkány . It’s Hungarian, isn’t it, sweetie?” she asked Drake.
    â€œ Sárkányok is the term for Hungarian dragons. A sárkány is traditionally a dragon in the form of a multiheaded giant,” he answered.
    Gabriel took a seat across the table. “The term has been adopted to represent a weyr meeting called to discuss issues pertaining to a specific wyvern or sept.”
    â€œAh. Something about the troublesome Kostya? Is he still petitioning to take over your sept?” I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that Kostya had continued his unauthorized war against the silver dragons. His sept had been wiped out by their own wyvern in a tragic attempt to bring the silver dragons—at one time black dragons, but long since autonomous—back into the fold. “Don’t tell me he’s been trying to steal the phylactery again.”
    â€œNo, the phylactery is safe,” Drake answered. He frowned and looked over to Gabriel. “It is safe?”
    â€œVery,” Gabriel answered, his voice once again rich and velvety smooth.
    Drake continued to study him. “You don’t have it with you?”
    â€œI don’t believe I said that,” Gabriel said, making a gesture of nonchalance as he buttered a piece of cold toast.
    â€œWhere is it?”