Page 18 of Confessions of a Middle Aged Dragon Queen
And I wish it had ended there, but it didn't.
Not by a long shot.
Nothing in my life ever did.
Arms swinging from side to side, up-and-down, and back and forth like he was conducting the Boston Pops Orchestra at the crescendo of the 1812 Overture, the kooky king of the faux-scaled nutballs roared, “Burn the Dragon Queen!”
And that was when I lost my freaking mind.
Up on my feet, I vaulted over the natural hedge created by long, tall stalks of giant reed, switchgrass, cordgrass, maidencane, Lindhemer’s muhly, and more than a couple of rotting tree stumps that we were using for cover in a single leap. It was impressive. I didn’t think so at the time. Hell, I wasn’t thinking about anything but saving my baby sister. However, in retrospect, it was a freakin’ miracle that I launched my curvy, five-foot-seven-inch curvy bod over all that beautified junk, ignored getting scratched, poked, and slashed, and ran-yes, actually sprinted towards the assholes trying to incinerate my baby sister.
Charging straight for that son of bitch while Aideen's wings sprouted out of my back, it was then that I realized how cool I was and took a split second to be totally impressed with my own athleticism- but it was only a split second. Then I screamed like the seriously pissed off Dragon Queen I happened to be at the very top of my lungs. "You wanna see somebody burn, Asshole. Hold on tight ‘cause I'm gonna set your ass on…achoo–achoo–achooachooachoo…”
And that was when I replayed the event of a few hours earlier, the one that set the storeroom of Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags alight and put into motion one of the greatest days of my life.
Yes, you read that right. I said ‘greatest’. Sure, part of my shop would have to be rebuilt but I'd met a new best friend, I'd found my One True Fated Mate, and I’d seen a side to Maeve I didn’t know existed and I really liked, and it was all because I sneezed, set my shop on fire, had to call 911, and the Fire Brigade came to my rescue. Now, that's what I call making a silk purse out of a sow's ear, my friends.
And that’s why they call me the Bougie Bag Dragon Queen of Dragoon Bootay.
You see, one of the things that no one had ever told me, (Nope, no one–not even Momma June or the Aunties Jayne and Brenda.) was that right before a female– doesn’t matter if she’s a Dragon Queen or not– of the Dellencourt Clan meets her Mate, her body gets ready to accept his Magic by producing her very own Dragon Fireballs.
All the years of sitting through the same old stories, the retelling of more Legends than I could ever recall, and not one of those wise old Dragonesses thought to impart the most essential piece of wisdom- I was gonna be a living, breathing flame-thrower right before I met the man made for me by the Universe.
You just gotta love my family.
Anyway, because those flammable, explosive, and volatile blazing spheres cannot just sit around in our bodies without causing serious damage and one hell of a case of heartburn, they are forced out whenever our emotions reach critical mass. Which, in my case, is pretty much twenty-four-seven. But… especially when someone I love is in danger. Or when I inhale coffee beans.
(You get that the latter is what caused me to set my shop on fire, and the former is because Maisie was in danger, right? Okay, good. Just had to be sure.)
And, no, I did not know any of this until Aideen decided to chime in and tell me the whole story… about three hours too late. Have I mentioned that the Dragon Queen I share my soul with can be a real pain in the tail? I hadn't? Well, consider yourself informed. Moving on…
Watching their leader be incinerated, fortunately – and unfortunately – had the effect I was looking for. As I'd expected, the thirty-some-odd other members of what I later discovered was the Revenge Wyverns of the World ran like the Devil himself was after them. Unfortunately, what I hadn't counted on was that they tossed a trussed up, tied up, and totally ticked off Maisie into the air, leaving her falling face-first towards the sandy, muddy, very wet bank of Crocodile’s Cock with nothing to do but shriek, "Catch me! Catch me! Catch me! Can’t do anything! Trussed up tight! SAVE MY SWEET ASS, MARTHA!"
Racing forward as fast as my feet would carry me, I barely had time to register the whoosh of air, a flash of gorgeous red hair, and a whiff of saltwater before Kai stopped in front of me and held out his arms. Catching Maisie– trees, fluorescent green goo, and all– he turned her right side up, planted the ends of the tree trunks she was tied to into the wet, mucky ground, and in the blink of an eye, released my little sis.
Wrapping my arms around Maisie, I squeezed her as hard as I could, happy that my little sister was all in one piece, basically unharmed, and in good enough shape to tease my Fae King over my shoulder. "Hey, Chief! Thanks for the save, but you ever make my sister so much as think about shedding a tear, and I'll turn you into an ever-burning torch, put you on my deck, and splash hot tub water at that scruff on your chin." She inhaled then added, “and I don’t give a good gosh darn if you are a Fae King. I’ll getcha, ‘cause she’s my big sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Kai laughed out loud. “You’re welcome. Any sister of Martha’s is a soon to be a sister of mine. And, no worries, I plan to keep my lady smiling from now ‘til the end of time.”
See? I told you my man was a sweetheart.
4
Or what will forever be known as,
'Happily Ever After and Maybe a Wedding, too.'
Stepping back and waggling her eyebrows, Maisie whispered, “Damn, Sis, you got a keeper.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“You do remember that everybody here can hear every word you’re sayin’, right?” Maeve chuckled as she stepped up beside us, pulling Theresa along for the ride. “Well, we got an addition to the group while you were all tied up…” She winked at Maisie while laughing out loud. “That was a good one. You gotta admit it. I nailed that one.”
"Yeah, you did," Theresa and I snickered in unison, then I went on with, "Finally, you didn’t mess up the punchline of a joke.”
“Hey,” Maeve giggled. “I resemble that statement.”
“You damned sure do,” Maisie laughed out loud, taking a step backward. “I love you, Maeve, but you couldn’t tell a joke to save your life.”
