by G. A. Aiken
They now stood in front of her tent and, as always, Morfyd desperately searched for a reason to invite Brastias in. It had been three years since she met the man and she still had yet to find a reason that didn’t sound idiotic.
Would you like to come in and count my herb supplies, O’ tall, gorgeous one? By the Dark Fire Gods, you’re pathetic.
“Bullocks this,” she muttered.
Chuckling in surprise, “I’m sorry?”
She girded her loins. She could do this. He was only a human. A gorgeous, amazing, beautiful, human…but still a human. “Brastias, I was wondering if—”
Morfyd.
It was only her name, but it held enough power to drop her to her knees. Brastias held on to her arms, the power of the gods tearing through her.
Call to me, child. Send for me.
Shaking, Morfyd looked up into the extremely concerned face of Brastias as storm clouds appeared in the sky above his head.
“What is it, Morfyd?”
“Inside my tent,” she gasped. “A large satchel. Fetch it for me.”
Frowning, Brastias clearly did not want to let her go. But he had no choice. She had no choice.
“Please, Brastias.”
He nodded, releasing her, and disappeared inside her tent.
Morfyd.
Scowling, Morfyd raged, “I hear you! Stop bloody calling me!” She took deep breaths to calm her nerves, motioning to one of the young messengers who helped out during battle. “Boy. Come.” Reluctantly, the boy moved toward her. “Go to the queen, tell her a storm comes. A bad one.”
The boy glanced up in confusion. It had been a beautiful night, clear skies. But that was about to quickly change. Storms were heading their way. She’d hoped they would stay ahead of them, but it looked like that wouldn’t be the case.
“Boy!” She watched as his large eyes snapped down to focus on her. “Do it now.”
He nodded and ran off, relieved to be away from her most likely.
Brastias returned to her side. “Morfyd, what is it?”
More like who, but she didn’t have time for that. Instead, she ignored the concern in his voice. “Help me up.”
He did, easily lifting her to her feet.
“The bag.” There was too much going on to bother any longer with niceties.
Brastias quickly handed the satchel to her. Turning away from her tent, she headed toward a river a bit away from camp. “You sure you don’t need me to—”
“No, Brastias!” She stopped when she realized she’d snapped at him. Gods invading her body brought out that reaction. But the warrior had done nothing wrong.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No need to apologize, Morfyd.” He gave her a warm smile, never angry at her sudden and abrupt changes of mood brought on by the constantly shifting winds of Magick. “Go. We’ll have food waiting for you when you get back.”
And he knew she’d be fairly starving after working Magick. The man is absolutely perfect.
He smirked. “If we can find a cow laying around that is.”
She glared at him before storming off. Sarcastic bastard.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What?” Briec looked up from the game he’d been playing with Éibhear for the last hour. So focused on the pieces and his next move, Briec barely noticed Éibhear kept staring at him.
“I said why are you being so nice?”
“Can’t I be nice to my baby brother?”
“No.”
Briec chuckled, but it choked off when a bleeding, raging Gwenvael stormed in with a bruised, less bloody, but equally raging Talaith wrapped in his tail.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded as Gwenvael tossed Talaith at his feet.
“That mad bitch stabbed me!”
“You were in my way!” Talaith yelled back.
Growling, fangs showing, Gwenvael moved on her. But Briec stepped between the two, staring his younger brother down, and baring his own fangs.
“I know, brother, you haven’t lost your reason.”
“She’s crazy. You haven’t had her yet. So I say we dine on her this evening before she kills us all in our sleep.”
Although human males were fair game to his brother, there was no woman alive Gwenvael had ever “dined” on. At least not that way. And the way the big gold tried to look around Briec to glare at Talaith told him Gwenvael merely wanted to terrify her. Which was good. Because Briec’s desire to protect this female—against his own kin, no less—confused him. He had no idea what he’d do if Gwenvael actually tried to hurt Talaith.
“Éibhear, take care of our brother’s scratch, would you?”
“Scratch? You call this a scratch?” He pointed at the wound with his claw and it took much not to wince at it. “She nearly took my eye out!”
“Don’t over-dramatize, Gwenvael,” Éibhear chastised while helping Talaith to her feet by letting her grab hold of one of his talons. “When I’m done, you’ll be fine.”
“This is my den. I want her out.”
Briec snorted a laugh before he had the chance to stop it and he thought for sure Gwenvael would try to remove his head. But Éibhear grabbed Gwenvael’s forearm.
“Stop it, Gwenvael.” He motioned to his brother with his tail. “Come.”
Éibhear walked off, dragging a glaring Gwenvael behind him.
Briec watched until he was sure Gwenvael was gone. What he found entertaining was that Talaith actually thought him distracted enough not to notice her attempt to sneak away.
He slammed the tip of his tail in front of her and she screamed, then kicked it.
“Gods damn that thing!”
“You harmed my brother, m’lady.”
She turned to face him. “You said yourself it was only a scratch.”
“I said that in the hope of keeping you from becoming his next midnight snack. I left that blade on you because I trusted you not to use it. Especially not to use it on my kin.”
She had the decency to look a bit ashamed. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wanted to leave.”
Apparently he owed his brother much if he prevented her from leaving.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“You are joking.”
“No. I’m not. I want to hear your reasons. I want to know what it is about me and my brothers you find so horrifying you’d rather brave the wrath of the gods than stay here with us?”
Even deep within Gwenvael’s den they could hear the thunder and lightning strikes dotting the land around them. This was not the kind of weather anyone, human or dragon, should be out in.
“You’re dragons. Our most hated enemies.”
He rolled his eyes and sat back on his haunches. “Honestly, little witch, I know you can do better than that.”
She sighed. A great heaving sigh. And her shoulders dropped. She shook her head slowly, her brown eyes locked on the ground at her feet.
“I just can’t stay.”
If only he was as stupid as the one she called husband. If only he cared so little for anything but himself, he’d never know when she was lying.
Not that spending her life among scales and tails held much pleasure for her. But for the first time since that fateful day Arzhela and her priestesses came for her had Talaith felt content. Not quite happy, but she’d never really been a happy person.
As her mother used to joke—on those rare occasions the woman joked about anything—”Nolwenn witches and happy…words simply never used in the same sentence.”
And she really didn’t mean to hurt Gwenvael, but he’d given her no choice.
“Answer me, Talaith.”
Damn that dragon voice. The way Briec said her name—it curled around her like a warm blanket. But she didn’t dare look him in the eyes. Those violet eyes tore right through her.
“I simply can’t stay, Briec.�
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“Does someone wait for you?”
Exasperated at his persistence, she glared at him and snapped, “Yes. In fact there’s an entire army waiting for me. I intend to service them all. Happy now? Now can I go?”
“Are you incapable of giving me a straight answer?”
“Are you incapable of hearing me? I want to go. Now.”
Flames flared around him and then were gone, leaving the man behind. And oh, what a man…
She didn’t know which was worse—the dragon Briec who could eat her in one bite or the human Briec who she wanted to eat her in one bite.
“Why do you insist on arguing everything with me?”
She’d angered him. Good. It was much easier dealing with an angry dragon than a considerate, caring one. “Why do you insist on not listening to me?”
“Even if I wanted to let you go, you still can’t leave in this weather.”
“I’ll do as I like, you oversized, scaly bastard. And that means I’m leaving.”
She turned to walk away, but Briec took firm hold of her arm and swung her back around.
“Don’t walk away from me!”
“Get your hands off me before I slice you open like I did your brother.”
She still had the blade in her right hand. And that was the hand Briec gripped and yanked to his throat, pressing the tip of the blade against the soft spot where his neck met his collarbone. “Then do it, little witch. Push your dagger home and run.”
Talaith stared at the tip of her blade pressing against soft flesh. Do it, Talaith. Do it. She yelled the words at herself over and over. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t kill him.
“You can’t do it, can you?” He didn’t sound smug or arrogantly sure—he sounded shocked. “Can you?”
She didn’t answer him. They both knew she didn’t have to. Her hesitation revealed too much. Gave too much a way.
“I—” was all she managed before he slapped her hand, and the dagger it held, away and gripped her face tight between his hands.
Briec yanked her up seconds before his mouth slammed down over hers. Not exactly how she imagined their first kiss, but this was so much better.
She whimpered and tipped her head to the side, her tongue dipping into his mouth and sliding across his. She felt his body tense, surprised by her bold reaction no doubt. Surprised and entertained. He pulled her tighter against his body and deepened their kiss, ravaging her mouth with his own.
Now this…this was a kiss. A kiss of the highest order. The kind of kiss she’d dreamed about all her life, but never thought she’d experience. The kind she knew would make her willing to give up everything for a night in a man’s bed. Except for Briec not exactly being a man, she was there.
After a few moments, the kiss gentled and Briec took his time exploring her mouth. Talaith let him, enjoying this kiss in ways she never thought she could. Her entire body screamed for his attention. Screamed to be taken and claimed. She wanted him. Gods did she want him!
Slowly, he pulled his mouth away from her and murmured, “I knew you wanted me.”
Damn him! Talaith brought her booted foot down on his instep.
“Ow!” He stumbled away from her. “What in holy hell was that for?”
“For not half being an arrogant bastard.”
She retrieved her blade from the floor and headed to the chamber she used as her bedroom, resigned to staying in this pit of despair at least until the weather cleared or Arzhela called to her.
“I hate you, Briec the Arrogant,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You and all your kind.”
“Really? It certainly doesn’t smell that way.”
She didn’t respond. Why bother when he was right?
When she didn’t show up for dinner, Éibhear went searching for her, Gwenvael trailing behind. Briec wouldn’t speak of her and wouldn’t go. Éibhear didn’t know what happened between them after he and Gwenvael left, but it made Briec one cranky dragon.
They finally tracked her down at the springs. She sat on the edge of one, her small bare feet in the warm water and her hand firmly wrapped around one of his father’s bottles of Fire Wine…uh-oh.
Sitting on either side of her, the brothers watched her stare into the water and sway. Side to side. Side to side. Humming. It was kind of mesmerizing.
“Lady Talaith?”
Big, brown, and rather dazed eyes slowly focused on him. “Éibhear—” He waited for her to say something more but that seemed to be all she could manage.
“What are you doing, m’lady?”
She held up the bottle. “Drinking tea.”
He smiled. “That’s not tea, Talaith.”
“I sensed that when I walked into the wall.” She pointed to the spot, using the hand holding the bottle and almost slapping Gwenvael on the wounded side of his head. Luckily he moved quickly. “The wall over there.”
She turned back around and that’s when she saw Gwenvael.
“Gwenvael.” She leaned against him, surprising both brothers. “I’m so sorry I almost killed you.”
What Éibhear admired about Gwenvael was how he never stayed angry for long. And, unlike their father and Fearghus, he didn’t bother holding grudges either. He preferred enjoying himself by making other people miserable. He was very good at it.
“It’s all right, Talaith. I’m sure you can make it up to me somehow.”
Gwenvael winked at him over the top of her head and Éibhear rolled his eyes in disgust. No shame. His brothers simply didn’t possess the ability to feel shame.
Talaith waved the bottle of wine in Gwenvael’s face. “Oh no you don’t, dragon. I may be a little drunk, Handsome the Gwenvael, but I’m not that drunk.” Handsome the Gwenvael? Oh, she was so very drunk. “You’ll not defile me with this…” she looked him over carefully, “…gorgeous human body of yours.”
“I know. You’ll be defiled by Briec’s gorgeous human body.”
She punched him in the shoulder and Gwenvael actually winced. “I will not. He’s such a pushy, arrogant bastard. More than you, believe it or not.”
“Oh, I believe it.”
“But I have no desire to be…” She searched for words and Gwenvael decided to help her there.
“Fucked within an inch of your life?”
“Gwenvael,” Éibhear warned.
“I’m just helping her.”
“No.” Talaith shook her head. “You’re being a bastard. But I’m getting used to that. Besides,” she patted his shoulder, “you’re such a cute bastard.”
“Talaith,” Éibhear said softly. “Perhaps we should get you back to your room.”
“No. He’ll be there. Lurking outside my chamber like a giant scaly watchdog.”
“Briec would never force himself on you,” Éibhear assured her. Because he knew his brother never would. To be quite blunt, he couldn’t be bothered.
“I know. He can be so nice,” she said sadly, “when he’s not being an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“If you know that,” Gwenvael cut in, “I’m not sure why it would concern you where my brother slept. Unless it is your own control that concerns you, m’lady.”
Talaith raised her hand and flicked Gwenvael’s still-healing wound.
“Ow!”
“Don’t irritate me.” She hugged the bottle to her chest and sighed. “None of you understand. I’m trapped with no way out. I’ve been trapped now for sixteen years.”
Éibhear and Gwenvael exchanged concerned glances. What was she talking about? At first, he thought she was still talking about Briec, but she’d only known him a few days. For some other reason she felt the need to leave. For a reason Éibhear knew she’d never share with them. Talaith had been keeping secrets for a very long time. He knew that even drunk, she’d still keep those secrets.
“I wish you’d let us help you, Talaith.” He gently pushed her curly hair off her face. “At least let Briec.” Briec would do anything for her, except neither of them had realized it yet.
Somehow she pushed herself to her feet, the bottle still gripped in one hand and pressed to her chest. “I’m going to stagger to my room now.”
“Talaith—”
“No. No. I’ll be fine.” She took several awkward steps, then stopped. “You. I knew you’d be lurking.”
Éibhear turned to see Briec leaning against the entrance wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His human form looked casual enough, but Éibhear sensed his brother’s concern. Briec would never admit it, but he cared about this lovely but strange woman who couldn’t hold her drink.
“Come, Talaith. Let me take you to bed,” Briec offered.
“I can manage well enough on my own, serpent.” She walked toward him. “So just keep your claws off me.” She hiccupped once and pitched forward. Briec caught hold of her before she landed face first in the dirt.
“Briec?”
“Don’t worry, Éibhear. I’ll take care of her.” Briec lifted the unconscious woman up in his arms. “Thanks for finding her before she drowned herself.”
Éibhear waited until he was sure Briec was out of hearing range, then turned to Gwenvael. “You’re right, you know?”
“About?”
“She is going to make his life hell.”
Gwenvael grinned, his wound seemingly forgotten. “I know.”
Briec laid his drunken human down on the bed, finally prying the bottle of Fire Wine from her grasp. Even he didn’t drink his father’s homemade wine, but he had used it to clean rust off old armor.
He brushed Talaith’s hair off her face and her brown eyes fluttered open. “Oh. It’s you.”
Did she have to sound so disappointed? “Aye. It’s me.”
“Come to take advantage of me in my inebriated state?”
“I try not to do that. Nothing worse than the morning-after sobbing.”
She laughed while struggling to sit up. “I don’t understand you, dragon.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Sometimes you can be so nice, and I can almost forget how annoying you are. And then you open your mouth, and I remember exactly how annoying you are.”