“I didn’t say we weren’t, my love.” As she reached up to kiss him, the front doorbell rang. Her scowl returned. “Who could that be at this time of night?” Dragos spun toward the hall, but she caught his arm before he could escape. “You take care of Skeeter. I’ll go answer it.”

She was not going to let him off the hook. He growled, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” she murmured softly.

Damn it. Every time she used that tone of voice, he turned into a sucker. This woman had more power over him than anything else on earth. Succumbing to the inevitable, he gave her a swift kiss then turned his attention to his current albatross.

Crouching, he waked the dog gently. It still needed a bath, but it smelled better now that Pia had given it a hygiene trim. As it sat up, he infused his words with Power again as he murmured, “Be calm.” Whining, the dog licked his hand and shivered. He cupped the side of its head. It was too small and stringy to consider as a snack. “Eat, drink. All is well.”

When the dog obeyed, Dragos kept most of his attention on Pia as she answered the door. Not that he was concerned. While they enjoyed a great deal of privacy in the evenings, they did not live alone. Guards, the house staff, and groundskeepers resided in various buildings all around them. And besides, Dragos had erected his own wards all over the property. If whoever stood on their front doorstep meant to do them harm, he felt certain he would know about it.

Still, anyone knocking on their door in the middle of the night had a story to tell, and chances were good that the story would not be a usual one. He heard the hinges of the door creak as Pia opened it.

The fresh, wet scent of rain blew down the hall and into the kitchen, along with the astonishment in Pia’s voice. “Aryal! Niniane?”

“Pia!” Niniane exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you! I was afraid you might have left for Rhyacia before I could get here.”

Aryal and Niniane were here?

Niniane was a little slip of a Dark Fae woman who used to go by the nickname Tricks. She had lived as a refugee in his demesne (when it had been his demesne) for many years. Now, she had taken her rightful place as Queen of the Dark Fae and ruled in the Other land of Adriyel. Tiago, who had once been one of Dragos’s Wyr sentinels, had mated with her and left New York to go live with her.

The dog had finished gulping down its meal. Dragos strode to the kitchen door, opened it, and ordered, “Out. Do your business.”

The dog dashed out. Dragos barely paid attention. He was focused on the conversation going on at the front of the house.