“This child needs to be returned to the humans,” I said, picking up the swaddled bundle. “And as you can see, there is no troll and no gold, so the calls were a prank, the Red Dragon den has been dealt with, and I’m tired. If there’s nothing else?”
“There is more,” Xun Guan said with another pointed glance at Ian. “But it will wait.”
“Enchanting to meet you,” he drawled. “The four of us should have dinner soon.”
“Four of us?” she repeated. “There are five here.”
“Not them,” he said, dismissing the two Enforcers. “I meant you, me, Veritas, and your raging case of jealousy.”
“Ian!” I snapped, seeing Xun Guan bristle. Gods, would this night not end without bloodshed between them?
He patted my arm. “Don’t fret, I’m finished with her for the moment. Now, let’s get this child settled so we can start properly celebrating our most recent wedding night.”
I felt Xun Guan’s eyes on me as we walked out of Central Park, but that wasn’t what unnerved me. It was the dangerous thrill I felt while I wondered if Ian had said that last part because he was still acting out his role . . . or if he was serious.
Chapter 21
My thrill only lasted until my nausea came back, which happened in less than one block. There, I retched what looked like a murder scene on the sidewalk. After that, Ian had to carry both me and the little demon as he flew us back to the hotel. Walking would have been easier on my stomach than those aerial dips and whirls, but we didn’t want anyone seeing where we were staying. An astute vampire tailing us might have been able to hear us, however. Between the demon’s screaming and my retching, I could understand why Ian kept cursing under his breath. What was less clear was why he hadn’t just abandoned us both outside the park.
By the time we finally made it back to our hotel suite, all three of us were splattered with vomit. Ian took us directly to the shower, turned it on, and set me and the tiny demon on the shower floor beneath the cleansing spray. I expected him to leave, but he unzipped my dress, helped me out of it, and hunkered down on the floor next to me.
“What’re you doing?” I mumbled.
“Cleaning myself up while making sure you don’t pass out and choke on your own vomit,” he replied, handing me several washcloths. “Tell me if you need help.”
“No innuendo about what parts you’d prefer to wash?” I said in a weak attempt at humor.
He gave me a sardonic smile. “Between a shotgun wedding, that thing’s constant squalling, and being repeatedly soaked by your vomit, I’m temporarily out of innuendo.”
I shouldn’t have had anything left in me to still be drunk, but I must have been, because I did something I hadn’t done in almost six hundred years: I started to cry. “I’m sorry. I really am. I feel so bad about all this . . .”
Surprise number ten thousand—Ian obviously couldn’t stand a woman’s tears. He was up in a flash, awkwardly dabbing at my face with a washcloth while patting my shoulder with his other hand. “Now, now, stop that. It’s not so bad, I suppose. I’ve been covered in blood and vomit countless times before, and I should probably get used to demon shrieks, considering the place I’ll end up at.”
“We’ll free you from Dagon,” I said, “but if we don’t, I’ll put in a good word for you with one of the guys down below.” Then I blew my nose into the washcloth before handing it back to Ian. Too late, I realized how gross that was and snatched it back. “Uh, sorry. I wasn’t thinking . . .”
“Clearly not,” he said with a snort. “Know someone in the bowels of the underworld, do you? Anything else you’d like to reveal before you sober up?”
“Gods, no,” I moaned, dropping my head onto my knees. I should just pass out before I said something else I’d regret.
A sharp poke on my ankle snapped my head back up again. The baby glared at me, tiny hand poised to poke me again if I kept ignoring it. Right, I had to drop its glamour and see what sort of demon we were dealing with.
“Reveal,” I said, so exhausted I resorted to spoken magic.
At once, its chubby pink skin turned into feathers so short, fluffy and soft, they resembled fur. Then its nose and mouth elongated into a snout. Its eyes also changed and its arms and legs stretched into something that resembled paws. It didn’t have a tail, but it had two wings that began to tentatively wiggle when I reached out and patted its head.
“Oh, that’s what you are,” I said with relief. To Ian, I said, “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”
“Looks like a small Samoyed with a lion’s mane and wings,” he replied, eyeing the creature.
“He’s a Simargl,” I said. “Simargls have all the loyalty of a dog combined with the best qualities of a demon—”
“Would that be greed? Or narcissism?” he interjected.
“—combined with the sweet innocence of a child,” I went on, glaring at him. “Receiving one is a great honor.”
“Receiving?” he said, with a snort. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
He was so crass. “Simargls are created, not reproduced.”
He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t know you hadn’t had that talk yet. Well, little Guardian, when one dog demon really likes another dog demon, they give each other a special hug and—”
“Enough!” I said, splashing him.
He only grinned. “At least you’ve stopped crying.”
He was right. Now I was irritated. It felt so much better than the exhaustion, worry, guilt, and nausea that had gripped me. Since I was mostly clean now, I picked up one of the cloths and began to wash all the various stains from the Simargl. He flinched under my touch, then relaxed when he saw I wasn’t going to hurt him. Poor thing. He hadn’t tried to run even when he expected pain. Now I wished I’d killed all the vampires who were helping to hold him prisoner. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said that Simargls were treasured because of how rare they were. To see one so misused made me furious.
The Simargl moved his head to allow me to better access his ears when I cleaned behind them. Sweet creature was trying to please me even though I’d given him no reason to trust me. He must consider me his new owner since Simargls normally only changed hands when they were given a new protector. I kept washing until the Simargl’s fur looked more silvery than ashlike, resisting the urge to turn the Simargl over so Ian could see how wrong his “special hug” comment had been. Simargls had no genitalia. The only reason I could tell that this one identified as male was because of his ears. He’d groomed them to be pointy instead of more rounded, something male-identifying Simargls tended to do.
Ian cocked his head. “You treat it like it’s fragile, when it must be tough, else it wouldn’t have survived.”
I gave him a level look. “Just because he can endure hardship doesn’t mean he shouldn’t experience mercy.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he said, holding my gaze. “It’s also why I didn’t murder your friend tonight.”
The whiplash change in subject left me feeling dizzy, or maybe that was the remaining intoxicants in my system. “What?”
“You’re regretting what I’ve discovered about you, but you shouldn’t,” he said, stretching his legs out. “If you hadn’t been so blind drunk, you never would have revealed your role in Katie’s rescue.”