by G. A. Aiken
“Okay. We need to talk.”
“No talk now. Fuck! We must consummate our loving union.”
Celyn’s mouth twisted as he tried to choose between being angry or laughing. He walked to the bed and sat down next to her. “Branding me like I’m a cow from your farm does not a loving union make. Dragon mates are partners. They work together to get through this long and challenging life.” Celyn thought a moment, and added, “Besides, we fear our females too much to try to subjugate them as human males sometimes do to their women. She-dragons have no qualms about tearing our scales off one by one while we sleep, so we have to keep that in mind. Or wake up scale-less.”
“I cannot believe you are still talking.”
Celyn grabbed Elina’s arm and hauled her into a sitting position.
“Are we going to talk about this like two beings who, combined, average more than three hundred years old? Or are some of us—you—going to be spoiled brats about it all?”
“Spoiled brat?”
“Elina.”
“What is there to say?”
“Lots!”
Elina fell back onto the bed. “Why must you talk so much?”
“I don’t talk that much. I just like to ask questions.”
Celyn stretched out on the bed beside Elina. He rolled onto his stomach, planted his elbows, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on his raised hands.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” he asked.
Frowning, Elina’s gaze shifted to his face. “What?”
“Can I stay home and raise the children while you go work in the fields? Will you tell me you love me and buy me pretty jewelry? Will you promise to be faithful? Forever?”
Elina squeezed her lips together, trying to look stern. It was not working.
“Will you call me lamb chop and brush my hair at night?”
She snorted and rolled away from him.
“Will your sister call me brother and stroke my head like a favored pet?”
Elina rolled back and covered Celyn’s mouth with her hand. “I beg you to stop.”
Celyn pulled her hand away, kissed the back of it. “At least tell me I’m pretty.”
Why, why had the horse gods thrown this ridiculous dragon into her life?
She should be mourning the life she’d left behind on the Outerplains. She should be thinking of the kin she’d left behind. She should be thinking of the times she’d seen the suns rise over the Steppes Mountains.
Yet she was doing none of those things. Instead she was listening to a dragon ask her stupid, ridiculous questions.
But then she realized . . . she’d branded the dragon like “a cow from your farm,” and yet he didn’t seem to mind. He wanted to discuss it, but he hadn’t gone for her throat or tossed her out onto the courtyard like so much useless trash. The alliance had been made; none of these people or dragons actually needed Elina’s help anymore. And yet it seemed they wanted her here. As if they expected her to stay forever. Did they?
Did Celyn?
He was trying to have a rational conversation with a woman who’d imbibed nearly her body weight in ale. Again . . . ridiculous, but now she realized that was because he wanted her to stay . . . with him.
Suddenly, the loss of an eye didn’t seem such a high price to pay to end up here. With this dolt.
This handsome, ridiculous, unbelievably chatty dolt.
Elina scrambled to her knees and placed her hands on Celyn’s shoulders.
“You are right. I should have talked to you first before making your cock my property.”
“Actually, that’s not quite what I meant.”
“You are like most males. Sensitive and moody and desperate to prove you are worthy. I took your chance to prove you deserve me away from you. And for that I am sorry.”
“Again, I think you’re not quite grasping what I’ve been saying to you.”
“But you should not be afraid. You are as worthy as I deserve.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound very good.”
“And I will treat you like treasured king when we are alone, and favored pet when we are in front of others.”
“Now wait one bloody sec—”
“But, of course, my sister will be allowed to beat you whenever she feels need. And you will be naked, of course.”
“Elina!”
“Just tell her you are sorry that you were bad boy and to please kiss it and make it better. Then it will be over before you know it.”
Growling, the dragon shot off the bed and had the door yanked open before he stopped and glanced back at her.
“You’re tormenting me, aren’t you, Elina?”
“How could I not? It was so easy!” she screamed before falling back on the bed, her hysterical laughter echoing out into the hallway.
“Is everything all right with you two?” someone called up from the Great Hall.
“Aye,” Celyn replied. “Everything’s fine.” He closed the door and faced her, shaking his head. “Except that I’m now mated to an idiot.”
But, of course, his annoyed tone only made her laugh harder, which did not help the situation at all.
Chapter Forty-One
Elina woke up the next morning mid-orgasm.
Celyn was behind her on the bed with one hand between her thighs, his fingers gently playing with her clit or sliding inside her cunt. His other hand gripped both her wrists, pinning them by the headboard. His tongue danced along her spine, which seemed to only intensify her orgasm. She didn’t know why.
But she quickly realized as his tongue moved up and down her spine that along with that astounding orgasm came a large amount of blinding pain.
Elina began to struggle but she didn’t know if she was trying to get away from the pain or the orgasm that just kept going . . . and going.
As Celyn’s tongue reached the back of her neck, he gripped her clit between two fingers and squeezed and rolled until her legs shook and she had to bury her head into her pillow and scream.
She really thought it was over when Celyn abruptly pulled away, but then he pushed her onto her back, ignoring her yelp of pain when her spine hit the mattress, and he roughly entered her.
He took her with strong, powerful strokes, and she let him, lifting her legs up so that they hung off his hips. She dug her hands into his hair and arched into him as he fucked her harder.
Celyn was merciless, but Elina didn’t mind. It was a beautiful morning. He was wearing her brand. And she’d woken up to an orgasm. What more could a woman want from a relationship?
While he continued to bury himself in her up to the hilt, he sucked on her nipples, which brought another orgasm tearing up on her from, it seemed, out of nowhere.
Writhing beneath him, her fingers now digging into his shoulders until she knew she’d broken the skin, Elina began to scream out again, but his mouth covered hers. They both came like that, gripping each other and screaming into each other’s mouths until they collapsed.
Finally, Celyn rolled off her, and for several minutes they lay in the bed, panting and covered in sweat.
When they could speak again, Celyn held up his arm. “A bear?” he demanded. “You branded me with a bear?”
“The local blacksmith made it for me. It is my favorite animal and represents my tribe.”
“Dragons eat bears.”
“And I hunt them in the winter. I still like them.”
He dropped his arm. “Whatever.”
Elina started to move, but her back hurt so much, she stopped. “What did you do to me?” she asked.
“What?”
“My back. It hurts.”
When the dragon only grinned, Elina ignored the pain and jumped out of bed. She raced across the room to a standing mirror she had assumed she would never have use for. Who needed to look at themselves in the mirror all the time?
But as she turned so that she could see her back, she gasped in horror.
“You son of a—”
“Mor
ning, sister!” Kachka greeted as she threw the bedroom door open. “I thought we could train at the— horse gods on the field of battle! What happened to your back?”
“He did this to me!” Elina snarled, pointing a damning finger at him.
“Wasn’t losing an eye enough? Now you’ve defiled her body with your . . . your . . .”
“Dragon,” Celyn said, pulling the fur covering over his waist. “It’s a dragon. And she should be proud. I’ve officially made her my mate. For eternity.”
“You should take him to river and drown him, sister, for such an affront.”
Elina let out a sigh. “Wait. It’s actually not that bad.”
“What?”
“Well . . . when you think about it, I did brand him first. And if we are to be . . . what was that ridiculous word you used last night?”
“Partners.”
“Yes. If we are to be partners, I guess we should both wear each other’s mark.”
“Especially when mine’s a bear.”
“He eats bears.”
“So do we.” Kachka shook her head. “I am disgusted.”
“Don’t know why,” Celyn said. “You’re not wearing my mark.”
“Shut up, dragon.”
“Awww. Is that it? Do you feel sad because you’re not wearing my mark? Do you feel a little left out?”
“I am leaving.”
“Don’t worry,” Celyn called after her. “I have some cousins who might find you cute in a pushy, lack-of-empathy way.”
Elina shook her head as she went to the door and closed it. “Great. Now I must spend my life protecting you from my sister.”
“I went a little far, didn’t I?” he asked, chuckling.
“‘I have cousins who might find you cute?’ It is like you want arrow in that doltish head of yours.”
“Forget your sister,” Celyn told her, throwing the fur off to reveal his once-again hard cock. “Just come here and fuck me.”
Elina was halfway to the bed when the door was thrown open again.
“Good,” Bercelak said, walking into the room. “You’re awake.”
“Does no one fucking knock in this house?” Celyn barked.
“Knock? What are you? Human now?” Bercelak stopped and studied the dragon brand Elina now had down her spine. “Well, that didn’t take you long.”
“But look,” Celyn happily volunteered. “I have a brand now, too!”
Bercelak frowned at his nephew’s arm. “A bear? You let this human brand you with a bear?”
“I like bears,” Elina told him.
Annoyed but probably unwilling to have this conversation with some human female he barely knew, Bercelak picked Elina up around the waist and carried her out into the hall. The dragon ignored her screamed words since neither of them knew what the hells she was saying. But it showed how mad she was if she’d reverted to her own language.
Bercelak locked the door and walked over to the bed. “You’re no longer one of the Queen’s Personal Guard.”
Celyn shook his head and sat up. “You are such a ridiculous, vindictive bastard, you know that?”
“What?”
“Throwing me off the Queen’s Personal Guard because I did what I had to do. She was not in danger. You were. But if you want to send me to the bloody salt mines with that idiot brother of mine, fine. Do it. Stupid as I am, I would probably save your bastard ass again. Because you are—much to my great disappointment—still my uncle!”
“Are you done?”
“Aye. I’m done.”
“Good. You are no longer one of the Queen’s Personal Guard because you’ve been made sergeant major of the Queen’s Army. In that position, you’ll be working closely with me and your father to maintain alliances, send troops where needed, and battle these zealot fucks coming out of the Annaig Valley.”
“Wait . . . what?”
“I’m not repeating all that. You should have gotten it the first time.”
“I’m . . . I’m sergeant major? Me?”
“Sadly, yes. Since you’ll be forced to work closely with me. Your disappointing uncle.”
“I know I owe you an apology for that, but it will have to wait,” Celyn told him, pulling on a pair of brown leggings and boots.
“What are you doing?”
“We can talk later. There’s something I have to do first. Something much more important.”
“Tell your one-eyed female?”
“No. She probably couldn’t care less.”
Celyn opened the door and ran out into the hallway and to the stairs that led to the Great Hall. There he stopped and, grinning, he yelled out, “Oy! Brannie!”
Brannie, who was eating first meal with Izzy, Éibhear, Kachka, and now a blanket-covered Elina, looked up and smiled. “Congratulations, brother, on Claiming—”
“Guess who’s become sergeant major of the Queen’s Army?”
Brannie’s smile faded and she jumped up from the table. “Not you. It can’t be you.”
“Oh . . . it’s me. Me, me me!”
“You bastard! Mum!”
Celyn strutted back to his room, head held high, grin spread across his face. It was shameless, he knew. But he didn’t care.
Not even when his uncle shook his head sadly and asked, “Was that really necessary?”
“To tell my sister that I now outrank her? Yes, Uncle. Yes, it was.”
Elina, now wearing leggings, a shirt, and boots provided by the servants, was the only one still sitting at the dining table when the queen entered the hall. She carried with her a wood box that she held in both hands. She placed it on the table and sat catty-corner from Elina.
“Do you like strategy games, Elina Shestakova?” Annwyl asked.
Elina replied with a chuckle.
“What?” the queen asked.
“That was something that bothered Glebovicha greatly. That I was so good at strategy games but had no love of raiding defenseless towns. I was a great disappointment to her.”
“A true leader finds what her people are good at and adjusts accordingly. One of the few things my bastard father ever taught me. He knew forcing people into uncomfortable roles would gain him absolutely nothing.”
Annwyl opened the box and took out a game board and began to fill it with pieces made of fine marble. “The stonemason gave this to me. I think he was afraid I would take his head.”
“Would you?”
“That’s what the world would like to think of me. That I go around, cutting off people’s heads for my amusement, but one really has to piss me off to get me to go that far.”
Annwyl put the box aside and pulled her chair closer to the table. She made the first move and while she waited for Elina, she said, “I heard you had Celyn burn your mother’s eyes to ash.”
“I did.”
“Sorry if I offended you, Elina.” And Elina could tell from her expression, the queen meant those words.
“You did not offend. Instead, you made me feel . . . like I had found home.” Elina gazed at Annwyl. “No one but my sister has ever done anything for me before. But then Celyn—”
“He loves you.”
“—and you—”
“I don’t know you well enough to love you, but I do like you.”
“—risk everything for me.”
“I sent you as an emissary and you came back missing an eye. It seemed wrong to do nothing about that.”
“Most leaders would have sent an assassin to deal with my mother.”
“I just wanted to take her eye. Brigida said she could put it in for you but that we were short on time. For me, it was just kind of a tit-for-tat thing. I thought I could challenge her in a fight, get the eye quick, and walk away while still making my point. But your mother wouldn’t stop hitting me.
“Then she said something about my children that just . . .” The queen’s face briefly contorted in rage, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “. . . set me off.”
“Glebovicha alwa
ys had way with words . . . and hatred.”
“I took her head,” Annwyl admitted, shrugging her shoulders like a small child. “But I didn’t feel right parading that in front of you. So I left it in the Outerplains, near some sparse-looking woods. By now I’m pretty sure the wolves have got it.”
“That’s probably for best.”
Annwyl nodded. “Probably.”
Dagmar walked into the hall just as Annwyl and Elina were putting away the pieces of the strategy game Annwyl loved so much. She’d spent the morning at the kennels with Adda and was happy that her dog was healing well. It would be some time before she’d be her old self, but Adda had done her job better than Dagmar could have ever asked. And, in a bit, Dagmar was going to have a place made up in her room just for Adda so that she could heal in peace and comfort on a proper bed. Although Dagmar wasn’t sure that Gwenvael would be happy about sleeping on the floor until Adda could walk again. But she’d worry about that later.
For now, though, Dagmar was determined to get some answers. So she marched over to the queen and asked, “What are you planning to do with that tower you’re building?”
Annwyl frowned. “The tower?”
“The one right outside?” Dagmar practically snarled between clenched teeth. “You really can’t miss it.”
“Oh! The tower.” Annwyl shrugged. “It’s going to be a library.”
Dagmar jerked a little. “It’s going to be a what?”
“A library. Well . . . a library slash new home for Bram.”
“A new home for Bram? You mean because of the assassination attempt?”
“No, I was planning all this before the attempt. Because of Var.”
Now Dagmar was completely confused. “Var? What does Var have to do with anything?”
“We spend a lot of time in the current library we have. You know, discussing books, battle tactics . . . how not to let his father irritate him so much. He really wanted to go live with Bram, but I knew that would not sit well with you, although you’d probably let him do it anyway. But I need you focused, not worried about your son a few miles away. Especially now. Plus, we needed a new library anyway, since the one we have has already run out of space on the shelves. So I figured Bram could live in the tower rather than where he does and tend the books, since he likes to do that. Add in that Ghleanna and their offspring already spend most of their time here, and it just seemed . . . logical.”