“You have something which belongs to me,” Driok snarls.
Dante looks around the room, his eyes alighting briefly on me and on Lydia.
“I don’t think I do,” he says. “And I think we’ve had this conversation before. It ended up with me getting a brand-new scout ship.”
“And I got a headache,” Driok snarls. “I’m well aware of your tricks, Dante. This female is mine. She will be joining me in my quarters.”
“I don’t think so.”
Dante looks at me and at Driok, his brow furrowed slightly.
“The female says she doesn’t want to go. Perhaps you’ll take the other one.”
“I amnotgoing with Driok.” Lydia squeaks in alarm and retreats into the bathroom before she sticks her head back out. “And someone needs to fix the roof!”
The door closes, and there is a strange sort of silence interspersed by sounds from a Vorostor night and the slight shifting of a room filled with massive Sarkarnii warriors armed to the teeth and ready to turn into dragons despite the confined space.
All except Driok. He carries no weapons.
He is also entirely unconcerned about being completely outnumbered. Instead he holds Dante’s gaze steadily.
“This might take a long time,” Dante says eventually. “If both females do not wish to go with you.”
“I can wait for him to leave,” I respond.
“I can’t!” Lydia calls from inside the bathroom.
“I am not leaving without my mate,” Driok growls.
“I amnotyour mate,” I retort.
“Driok thinks you are his mate.” Dante looks more confused than ever. “One of you.”
“He thinks Maggie is his mate,” Lydia shouts.
“Which one of you is Maggie?” Dante asks looking at the bathroom.
“Good lord!” I groan. “We’ve only been living with you formonths, Dante. You’re only mated to our best friend, Rosalie. And you can’t tell who we are? I’m Maggie!”
“It’s a good thing he does not know you, my spitfire, or I would have to remove his head from his body,” Driok snarls unhelpfully.
“Gah!” I throw my hands in the air. “Fine.Fine!I’ll go with you if only to stop this ridiculous conversation.”
“You will?” Dante queries. I think if his brow furrows any more, he might end up cross-eyed.
“You will?” Driok says, a grin spreading across his face.
“On one condition.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Any condition, my mate,” Driok says, with saccharine sweetness.
“We don’t go to your sector.”
“What?”
“In fact, we have to go as far away from it as possible.”
DRIOK
