by G. A. Aiken
Éibhear dropped the jar in a small bag he had with him. “He’s had her since yesterday.”
The gold’s eyes practically exploded from his head, then he burst out laughing.
Talaith said nothing as Éibhear pushed her hair off her face to examine a small scrape on her forehead. But she knew the silver didn’t appreciate the familiar move one damn bit. Good.
“It was an oversight,” her kidnapper gave by way of explanation.
Éibhear’s silver eyes locked on his brother. “I know her name. And I’ve known her about ten minutes.”
“I’m Gwenvael the Handsome,” the gold stopped laughing long enough to say. “At your service, m’lady.” He made a low, sweeping bow and the silver brought his tail down on the back of the gold’s head. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Accident,” the silver snapped. He turned back to Éibhear. “This is none of your concern, baby brother. I saved her, therefore she—”
“If you say,” she spit out between tightly clenched teeth, surprising them all, “I belong to you, one more time. I swear by all that’s holy I will scream these walls down.”
The three dragons silently stared at her. When she didn’t back down or look away, the gold fell into another fit of laughter that caused the silver to roll his eyes practically to the back of his head.
“Hungry, m’lady?” Éibhear asked as he stood beside her. It suddenly occurred to her the pain no longer plagued her.
She almost sighed in relief, but instead said, “Starved.”
He held his arm out. Like the rest of him, his arm was big and muscular. In fact, his human form was bigger than even the silver’s. “Then let’s get you fed.”
She took his arm gratefully, and they headed toward the exit. As she passed the silver, she stopped and looked up at him.
“And the name is Talaith, in case you were wondering.”
With that, the pair walked off, but she could still hear the gold’s hysterical laughter tormenting his brother.
After Briec slammed Gwenvael’s head into the floor a few thousand times, he shifted into human, yanked on a pair of breeches and boots and went in search of his human.
Talaith.
A very pretty name. It fit her. And he probably should have asked her what her name was…he just didn’t think of it. She’d never believe it, but the woman distracted him. To be honest, he was surprised he could remember his own name when in her presence.
Besides, it’s not like she took a breath long enough during her constant chatter to allow him to ask her much of anything. Especially important questions like who the hell she really was. He had no doubt she was truly a Nolwenn witch, but she was much more than that. So very much more.
It didn’t take long to track down the pair. Like all his kin, Gwenvael had set up several of the cave alcoves for the possibility of humans stopping by. He had several furnished with beds, chests for their clothes, bookcases. Whatever they may need. This particular chamber had a dining table and cooking pit. A lamb slowly roasted over the open flame while Talaith and Éibhear ate fruit, bread and cheese. When he walked in she was laughing, turned in her chair to face his brother. She looked…comfortable.
He stopped before reaching them and tried to understand this awkward new feeling. No. He wasn’t liking this one bit either. He felt it now every time he looked at her. The feeling that he’d give anything merely to hold her close.
Briec shook his head. Exactly what had this woman done to him? Damn Nolwenn witches. Apparently even the untrained ones cast spells.
His brother and Talaith looked up at his approach. And as soon as she saw him, her smile faded and her laughter died. She sat straight in her chair, turning to face the table.
He frowned at Éibhear in concern, but his brother merely raised an eyebrow as if to say, “What exactly did you expect?”
Briec sat one seat over from Talaith. He grabbed a fruit, put his feet up on the table, and proceeded to eat while watching her. She fussed with her hair, scratched her wrist and hand, and basically appeared uncomfortable.
What the hell am I doing wrong? Éibhear and Gwenvael never seemed to have these problems with humans. Especially female humans.
“So have you eaten well?”
She nodded without looking at him. “Yes.”
“What about that?” He motioned to the cooking meat.
Éibhear yawned and scratched the back of his head. “That’s for later tonight.”
Still Talaith didn’t refused to meet his gaze.
He motioned to the chamber exit with a nod of his head. In response Éibhear shook his head.
Briec barely caught his roar in time. “Éibhear, would you mind excusing us?”
“As a matter of fact, I would mind.”
“Don’t test me, little brother.” His patience was waning. Had been since he’d first set eyes on this woman. He’d had a vain hope they’d make it back to his den this evening and he’d be between her thighs before the suns rose the following day.
Clearly that wouldn’t be happening now.
Talaith laid her small hand over Éibhear’s much bigger one. Briec’s eyes narrowed, focusing on where their hands met. Another new feeling. Somewhat territorial, which belonged to all dragons when it came to their treasure, but something more. Something he didn’t like one bit.
“It’s all right, Éibhear,” she assured his blue-haired bastard, baby brother. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right then. But call me if you need me.”
If he didn’t know the snot-nosed little cretin was being sincere, he’d rip out his lungs.
With one last glare at Briec, Éibhear left. Once alone, Briec dropped his feet to the ground. “Talaith—”
“Oh. So you’re using my name…now that you actually know it.”
Briec sighed. “I simply didn’t think it was—”
“I don’t even know your name,” she cut in.
He blinked in surprise. “Really? I…I just assumed Éibhear would have told you by now.”
“Is that his job then? To make sure everyone knows your name since you don’t have the decency to introduce yourself?”
It appalled him he was allowing some human to speak to him like this. And it appalled him even more he cared he might have hurt her.
“Fine. My name is Briec. Briec the Mighty.” He truly did not appreciate the snorted laugh that followed his statement. “What’s so funny?”
“It just…” She cleared her throat. “It took me by surprise is all. I thought you’d be Briec the Silver like Éibhear is ‘the Blue’.”
“I was Briec the Silver. When I was much younger. But once you make a name for yourself that usually changes.”
“And what about Briec the Arrogant? That seems much more fitting.”
“It’s Briec the Mighty, little witch.”
“Mighty, huh? Did you give yourself that name?”
“No,” he practically spat in slow, measured tones. “I did not.”
“I was just asking. No need to get testy.”
He was glad to finally see her smile, he simply didn’t appreciate it was at his expense.
“Talaith, understand, I didn’t ask your name because—”
She turned suddenly in her chair to face him. “Are you physically unable to say you’re sorry?”
That stopped him cold. “Pardon?”
“The words, ‘I’m sorry.’ Are you unable to speak them?”
Briec thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said it.” He thought a moment longer, then shook his head. “No. I’ve never said it before.”
“Isn’t it time you started? Just tell me you’re sorry instead of making all these excuses.”
He looked down into that beautiful face, torn between wanting the return of the cowering female paralyzed by dragonfear and this sarcastic, argumentative female he had the feeling he’d never recover from. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yes.”
He bent his
neck to the side and heard the bones crack.
“Here, Briec the Mighty, try it with me.” She leaned forward. “I’m sorry, Talaith.”
Suddenly Briec couldn’t look away from those eyes. They snared him as sure as a war party’s nets. When he finally said the words, he nearly whispered them, unable to find his voice. “I’m sorry, Talaith.”
She blinked in surprise, most likely guessing she’d never get him to say it. She tried to pull away, but he slipped his hand behind the back of her neck and tugged her closer while he leaned over the chair between them.
“Briec?”
“Sssh.”
He had to kiss her. Simply had to. He moved in closer, nearing his goal.
“So what’s to eat?”
Briec’s head snapped up at the sound of Gwenvael’s voice. And before he could consider the consequences of his actions, he sent a ball of flame that shoved the dragon’s human form completely out of the chamber.
As soon as he did it, he knew his mistake. He turned around, black smoke still curling from his nostrils, to find Talaith staring at him. Her eyes wide, her mouth open.
“Talaith—”
She shook her head. “No. No. Everything’s fine.” Of course, she said that as she pried his fingers off her neck and leaned away from him.
Talaith no longer had the dragonfear, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wary. She went back to her fruit and cheese as Briec desperately worked to control his human body.
Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she said, “Um, so, how long you think this weather will last then?”
Accepting his defeat for the moment, Briec shrugged. “I don’t know. But hopefully not long.”
Hopefully not long at all. His desire for this strange female was beginning to affect his normally logical mind.
And he didn’t like it one damn bit.
Talaith stood at the mouth of the alcove and stared. “This is amazing,” she murmured.
“Dragons like water. One of my brothers has a lake in his den.”
She nodded as she examined the steaming hot springs. There were eight in varying sizes, replenished from an outside water supply according to Gwenvael. He’d bragged about them all through the delicious lamb dinner Éibhear made. The more he talked about it, the more she wanted to try them out. She hadn’t had a bath since the dragon dunked her in the lake after she’d vomited.
“You going to get in or just stand there with your mouth open…drool coming out.”
She glared at him. “Very funny.” Talaith stepped inside, letting the light fragrant steam wrap around her. It was warm but not uncomfortably hot. Crouching down, she tested the water with her finger, relieved to discover it was hot but not searing—with dragons you could never be too sure, their idea of uncomfortably hot differing from most. With renewed eagerness, her fingers went to the ribbon tying her bodice together, quickly undoing it. But as she started to strip off her dress, Talaith realized Briec leaned back against the wall and watched her.
“Could you excuse me?” she asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Will you not let me enjoy anything?”
“That’s a bit unfair.” He grinned. “I merely thought we could enjoy it together.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Briec sighed. “Do you really dislike me that much, little witch?”
“It isn’t that I dislike you so much, big, fat dragon. It’s that I don’t like you enough.”
“You’re cruel.” And she knew he teased.
“Aye. So I’ve been told. Too cruel for you.” She put her hands on his chest and tried her best to shove the big ox from the chamber. “Find yourself a willing woman. A dragoness perhaps. Someone who actually finds you charming.”
He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll leave you, little witch.”
“Thank you—”
“For now.”
Talaith bit her lip as Briec slipped her index finger into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip before gently sucking. His eyes stayed on Talaith’s, unwilling to let her go.
Her sex went dripping wet, her strong legs went weak. Another minute of this exquisite torture and she’d be flat on her back without another word.
All I wanted to do was take a bath. Now all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Briec the Arrogant like a jungle snake.
Using the same control she possessed to slow her heart rate and calm her breathing, Talaith pulled away from the dragon. “Well, that was…interesting.” She took a step back. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Briec nodded, turned, and began to walk away. Stopped abruptly. Sniffed the air. Looked back at her with a grin. Then he walked off.
She glared at his retreating form and thought about all the wonderful ways she could eviscerate the beast.
Moving silently so as not to wake the sleeping Talaith, Briec lay down outside the cavern Gwenvael gave her for a room. It had an enormous bed. A table and chairs of the finest wood. A pitfire built right into one wall. It was nice and he’d give almost anything to share that bed with Talaith. But she still resisted him. He had no idea why. She wanted him. He knew it. She knew it.
They could be spending the entire night making each other very happy until they both passed out from the pleasure of it. Instead, she fought him. Fought him and herself as far as he was concerned.
Yet what truly baffled him? What would most likely keep him up for the entire night…why he cared? And why he enjoyed her fight so very much?
She sighed in her sleep and he crossed his eyes at the images that gave his delirious brain. Of her under him, sighing like that when he made her come, and come…
Stop, Briec. You’re only torturing yourself. Painfully so.
Briec rested his dragon head on his arms and prayed for dawn. Dawn would bring the suns and his way out of this nightmare. Because, he knew, once he got his lovely, sweet Talaith back to his den, she’d be all his.
Chapter Seven
“Where the hell are the suns?”
Talaith’s head snapped up from her book at Briec’s angry shout somewhere off in the cave.
Gwenvael, who’d fallen asleep at the table, jerked awake, screaming, “I never touched her!”
Éibhear sighed in disgust. “You never fail to embarrass me.” He placed a bowl of hot porridge in front of Talaith. Where he learned to cook, she’d never know, but she appreciated it. He even made normally boring porridge delicious.
Gwenvael glared down at the bowl of porridge thrown in front of him. “Porridge? You want me to eat porridge?” He looked up at Éibhear. “Has your mind slipped since last night? Where’s that horse I found the other day?”
Talaith, unable to hide her shock and not really wanting to, stared at Gwenvael in horror.
Éibhear cleared his throat and glared at his brother. “The horse, idiot brother o’ mine, is safe and alive somewhere else.”
“Come on, Talaith,” Gwenvael implored. “You don’t mind if we eat—”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do mind.”
He gave her what must be his best “imploring” face. “But, Talaith…my love.”
“Gwenvael…” she mimicked back to him, “…my pain.”
Éibhear laughed hard as Briec entered the chamber wearing only black breeches and boots. Does he have to look so…tasty? He sat in one of the chairs across from Talaith, threw his feet up on the table, pushed his porridge away and grabbed a piece of fruit. All while glaring at her.
She stared back, then said, “What are you looking at?”
He motioned to the ceiling with his hand. “Are you responsible for this?”
She glanced up at the rocky ceiling. It was actually kind of pretty with its sparkly shards hanging down. Of course, then she thought about those dropping on her head and suddenly they looked like dangerous blades. Shaking off the scary image, Talaith looked back at a still glaring Briec. “I didn’t do anything to the ceiling.”
�
�Not the ceiling,” he barked at her. “The weather.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Has being around dragons given me some kind of god-like status I am not aware of?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Éibhear bend his head over his porridge, desperately shoveling it into his mouth while Gwenvael simply laughed out loud.
Briec ignored his brothers and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You are the witch.”
“An untrained one, as you so eloquently pointed out. Besides, why would I play with the weather and risk angering the gods?” Like she didn’t have enough of that to worry about in general.
“Perhaps because you don’t want to leave. You seem so comfortable with my brothers, little witch.”
She leaned forward, ridiculously angry and loving every minute of it. For some strange reason, she felt completely safe arguing with this dragon—odd. “Because your brothers haven’t been pawing me or trying to see me naked.”
Gwenvael shrugged his massive shoulders. “Actually—”
Annoyed with the very sound of his voice, Talaith grabbed one of the fruits from the bowl near her plate and threw it. Her aim, as always, unerring. The large, round and juicy fruit slammed into Gwenvael’s head with unrelenting force.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“Accident,” she snarled.
“Nice aim,” Briec grumbled. “For a quiet little wife.”
She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Your point?”
He growled, and she grinned. Which did nothing but piss the dragon off. But before he could do or say anything else, Éibhear looked up from his empty bowl. “So!”
Startled by his near shout, they all stared at him. “Doesn’t seem like the rain will let up. What would everyone like to do today since we’re stuck inside?”
Talaith pointed at the book on the table next to her bowl. “I’ve got this.”
“You read?” For some unknown reason, Éibhear seemed ridiculously happy about this.
“Aye.”
“She’s a well-read peasant,” Briec drawled out.