Kostya shrugged. ‘‘It matters little to me what you believe. Perhaps you are simply claiming they are missing in order to garner Drake’s sympathy.’’

Gabriel flinched as his own accusation was flung back at him. ‘‘I see that we are at an impasse again.’’

‘‘And it will stay so until you return my phylactery to me,’’ Kostya almost yelled.

‘‘You will return Maata and Tipene unharmed, or I will finish what was started centuries ago!’’ Gabriel returned, his eyes positively glowing with anger.

I stood up and took his arm as Pál and István closed in on Kostya again. The two wyverns glared at each other. I could feel the dragon fire within him, raging to be freed, but he had immense control, and kept it back when I probably would have burned down the entire block.

‘‘Then there is nothing more to be said. This meeting has been a waste of time.’’ Kostya stiffly jerked his arms from the two green dragons, bowing to Aisling. ‘‘I bid you good day, Aisling, brother.’’

He took a step toward Gabriel, but his ebony gaze was narrowed on me, sending a little skitter of fear down my back. ‘‘As for you, thief…’’

Gabriel stepped in front of me, a ring of fire bursting to life around the two of us. ‘‘Do you threaten my mate?’’

I stared at Gabriel’s back in astonishment. I’d never heard such raw fury in a man’s voice before, and that it came from velvet-tongued Gabriel…

‘‘You should not have a mate,’’ Kostya snarled, spitting little balls of fire at our feet. ‘‘No silver dragon deserves a mate since they are responsible for stealing that of the black wyvern.’’

‘‘We did not steal her! We took back that which was stolen from us! Ysolde de Bouchier was a silver dragon!’’

‘‘That history does not have importance at this time,’’ Drake said, stepping between the two furious dragons. Gabriel immediately backed down, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me tight against his side. Drake sent his brother a warning look, which, after a moment or two of antagonistic posturing, Kostya acknowledged.

‘‘Discussing the issue of a future agreement between Kostya and the silver dragons is useless until Maata and Tipene are returned,’’ Gabriel said.

‘‘I have nothing to do with them!’’ Kostya yelled, slamming his hands down on a metal table.

‘‘If you have not, then who has?’’ Gabriel argued. ‘‘Who would wish to do harm to the silver dragons? Fiat? His battle has nothing to do with us. Bastian and his blues are on friendly terms with the silver dragons. Neither do we have a grievance against the red dragons, no matter if their wyvern is Chuan Ren or another. The green and silver septs have long had a history of mutual friendship and trust.’’

‘‘Which is why you sided with Fiat to destroy Drake and claim Aisling as your mate?’’ Kostya asked in a sneering voice.

My gaze went to the man at my side. He flickered a brief look at me, his jaw tightening as he said slowly, ‘‘My intention was never to destroy Drake or the green dragons. Fiat was intent on doing both, and I simply did what was necessary in order to lessen the massive destruction that was sure to follow if he proceeded unchecked.’’

I looked thoughtfully at the very pregnant Aisling. A faint smile twitched her lips. ‘‘He never really wanted me, you know. He just wanted a mate.’’

A painful knot gripped my stomach as I wondered if it was merely for a mate that he had so enthusiastically embraced me.

‘‘No,’’ he said, watching Kostya.

It didn’t matter… or rather it did, but now was not the moment to examine the basis of the man I’d bound myself to. As Gabriel said, there were more important things at hand, such as the whereabouts of Maata and Tipene.

All the same, the words echoed in my head: He just wanted a mate.

Chapter Thirteen

‘‘Well. I’ll say this for Gabriel-he has good taste in houses.’’ Cyrene dropped the handle of her suitcase with an audible thump on the rich carpet of the entrance hall. ‘‘I hope the rest of the house is as nice as the entrance. It’s much nicer than my flat, and certainly better than that dark little hole you inhabit. How many rooms did he say it has?’’

‘‘Seven bedrooms.’’ I closed the front door, consulting a small card to punch in the code needed to pacify the security system.

‘‘I shall graciously accept Gabriel’s invitation to stay with you until he gets here, then,’’ she said, opening up the door nearest us. ‘‘Sitting room. Kitchen back here, do you think?’’

‘‘I guess.’’ I stood for a moment in the hallway, noting absently that Cyrene’s assessment of quality was, as ever, dead on. The house mightn’t be a huge mansion, but it was located in Marylebone, right in the center of London, and it appeared to be furnished simply but elegantly. I touched a finger to the halfpaneled wall before slowly following Cyrene. She explored the house, scattering excited little oohs and ahs of pleasure behind her as she ran from room to room. I paused to look in the sitting room, decorated with antiques of cream, rose, and gold, admired the kitchen with its huge marble-topped center block, and finally stopped at the back of the house, in a parquet-floored conservatory sporting tall palms and a beautiful blue-gray granite fireplace that had to be at least three hundred years old.

It was all lovely, perfectly charming… and utterly lifeless. It was as if Gabriel had never even been there at all, as if his presence hadn’t touched the house in any way.

‘‘The master bathtub is divine!’’ Cyrene announced, coming down from the second floor. ‘‘Would you mind…?’’

‘‘Go ahead,’’ I said, sitting gingerly on the edge of a spindly legged chair.

‘‘You know how a bath always makes me feel better.’’ She started to go, but paused, looking back at where I sat. ‘‘Is something wrong, Mayling? You have the oddest look on your face. Don’t you like the house?’’

‘‘The house is beautiful. It’s just…’’ I hesitated, finding it difficult to put my strange mood into words. ‘‘It just seems so bare, as if it was just here for show and no one has ever really lived in it.’’

‘‘Well, Gabriel did say he wasn’t in London much. Maybe he hasn’t had time to make it feel like a home yet. Besides, that’s what you’re for, isn’t it?’’

Her words brought to the surface all the feelings of doubt that I’d successfully pinned down during the last twelve hours.

‘‘Mayling?’’ Cyrene took a couple of steps into the room, her brow furrowed. ‘‘You are going to be happy with Gabriel, aren’t you?’’

Her concern touched me, making me forget my earlier annoyance with her. That had always been the pattern of our relationship… she got into trouble, and, exasperated, I ran to her aid, forgiving her when faced with her genuine affection and gratitude. ‘‘Of course I’ll be happy. How could I be otherwise? I have a man so sexy he literally burns down a hotel room, a gorgeous house in a prime spot in London, and carte blanche to do with it what I want. I’d have to be insane not to be happy.’’

‘‘Yes,’’ she said, touching my cheek lightly. ‘‘You would. Those dragons are incredibly sexy, don’t you think?’’

I glanced up quickly, but she had a dreamy look in her eyes, not one that hinted of jealousy. ‘‘That’s one way of putting it.’’

‘‘I think it’s because they’re so… oh, I don’t know… exotic. You know what I mean? There’s a sense of danger about them, as if they are barely just holding back the beast that dwells within them.’’

I couldn’t deny her assessment, although I was more than a little reluctant to have this discussion. ‘‘I suppose so, although Gabriel seems much more even tempered than Drake or his obnoxious brother.’’

‘‘Obnoxious!’’ Cyrene gaped at me. ‘‘How can you possibly say that about Kostya? He’s not obnoxious! He’s just… intense. Very, very intense. And so handsome, don’t you think?’’