by G. A. Aiken
“And perhaps, lady, you should mind your own business.” Morfyd’s fingers dug deep into her shoulder as warning. A warning she ignored. “What goes on between Fearghus and myself is our concern. Not yours. And you need to remember that.”
She noticed Rhiannon’s children desperately trying to get her attention while Morfyd came dangerously close to tearing her arm off.
“Perhaps you forget who I am.”
“I forget nothing. And pray tell me, lady, how is your mate’s tail?”
At that point, Morfyd threw up her hands and walked back to Brastias’s side while Rhiannon’s sons cringed and the beautiful redhead dropped her head in her hands.
Rhiannon smiled. A disturbing sight to say the least. Unlike her children, her human teeth still resembled fangs more than anything else. “You know, Lady Annwyl, any woman strong enough to impale a dragon as mighty as Bercelak the Great, should be strong enough to go claim what is hers.”
Interesting turn from the queen. Annwyl expected her to rip her head off instead. At least she expected her to try. “I appreciate your concern, lady. But I am at a loss as to why your son did not come himself.”
And save me from his damn kin!
“He foolishly fears that he will bring great risk to your safety. I now know there is nothing to fear. You are a deadly adversary. I doubt anyone here would dare your wrath. I know I wouldn’t.”
Annwyl wondered for a moment if Rhiannon spoke these words just for the benefit of the nobles. But she doubted the dragon would be bothered. The female was dangerously honest—foe or friend. “But since my son is such a—”
“Prat?” Gwenvael offered.
“Insidious harpy?” Briec countered.
“Concerned mate,” their mother spat out between gritted teeth as she silenced them both with a glare. “I have a gift for you.”
Annwyl readied herself. The queen may be honest, but Annwyl still didn’t take anything she said at face value. “Gift” could leave her covered in blood and eyeless. “Really?”
“I offer you my loyalty and the loyalty of all dragons in Dark Plains.”
Annwyl wasn’t sure what that should mean to her. “Oh. That’s very . . . um . . . sweet.”
Morfyd returned to her side and leaned down to whisper loudly in her ear so all could hear. “In case you didn’t know, that means if anyone ever tries to strike out against you or your throne they will bring the entire dragon kingdom of Dark Plains and all our allies down on their heads. It happened once before about one thousand years ago. When the dragons were done, they’d wiped the land clean.”
A jolt passed through Annwyl’s body as some of the humans in the hall began to inch their way toward the exit. And Hamish couldn’t run fast enough. She wondered what he’d originally planned.
Annwyl looked at Fearghus’s mother. “You give this loyalty to me? A human?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Fearghus?”
“No. I give nothing to my children. It all must be earned. And you have earned this. You’ve done very well. Without us. And without Fearghus.” She gave a bored sigh. “Simply put, you’ve impressed me, Annwyl the Bloody. And I do not impress easily.”
“I . . . uh . . . thank you?” For once Annwyl couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Rhiannon waved her hand dismissively. “Yes. Yes.” She turned away. “But my son awaits, perhaps you best get that rump of yours moving.” Rhiannon headed toward the exit. “I must go. Bercelak, too, awaits and he is so impatient.”
“Need to get back to your chain, lady?” Morfyd and Keita coughed in surprise while the brothers simply appeared stunned.
Rhiannon glanced at Annwyl over her shoulder and gave the most sensual smile Annwyl ever witnessed. “Jealous?” Then she was gone.
Gwenvael stepped forward. For the first time Annwyl watched him get angry. “Woman, are you mad?”
“Why does everyone ask me that?”
“Well, you must have impressed her,” Keita added. “I thought for sure she would tear out your throat.” Annwyl remembered those white talons of the queen quite well. “I kept thinking what are we going to tell Fearghus? Then I thought who is going to tell Fearghus? Then I thought we’d make Morfyd do it.”
With a vicious hiss, “Excuse me?”
“Would all of you stop!” Annwyl wiped her hands on her leggings and stared down at her knees. She knew what she had to do. She looked up at the dragons. “I need a ride.”
Gwenvael smiled. Relief seemed to spread through his entire body. He would never admit it but Annwyl knew the dragon cared much for his brother. “Thought you would. I can take you.”
Annwyl raised an eyebrow. “Sure that is wise?”
Gwenvael shrugged. “Good point. Briec will take you.”
“I will not! I’ll not have her smelling like me when she gets back to him. I like my tail.”
“I’ll take her!” Éibhear offered happily.
“No!” both his brothers snapped.
“Honestly. You three are such idiots.” Keita motioned to Annwyl. “Let us go, sister. I will take you. I have some . . . uh . . . plans with a few soldiers near the glen.”
Annwyl shook her head as Morfyd snorted in disgust. “Um . . . all right.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Brastias.”
“Yes, Annwyl?” He stood beside Morfyd trying desperately not to smile, and failing miserably.
“I must take care of something, Brastias. Think you and Morfyd can keep that grain and lumber moving until my return?”
“Of course.” He grinned. “But we’ll let you know immediately if there’s any bloodshed.”
Annwyl looked at him. “And that’s all I’ve ever asked.”
Fearghus stretched out by his lake, his jaw cupped in one claw, the tip of his tail making swirling patterns in the blue water. He sighed. A year since he’d left her the morning after the final battle with her brother. A year since he’d held her in his arms. A year since he’d kissed her. A year since he’d buried his head between her thighs. A year since she’d punched him in the face.
He sighed again. He truly did miss her. He didn’t think he could miss anything or anyone that much. He wanted to go to her. Wanted to take his rightful place by her side. But he feared for her safety. And, more importantly, did she even still want him? What if she’d found someone else? Someone human? Someone who wouldn’t cough and accidentally toss a fireball at her in the process?
Did she already forget about him? Did she still love him? And when exactly did he become so insecure?
He sat up. This is ridiculous. He would go to Garbhán Isle. He’d retrieve his woman. She belonged to him. He’d Claimed her and nothing would change that.
Besides, he couldn’t take it anymore. Everything around his lair reminded him of Annwyl. He could almost smell her. Could almost feel her running up his dragon back, climbing atop his head, and bending her body over him so their eyes could meet.
“Did you miss me?”
“Annwyl?”
Fearghus, startled, jerked and Annwyl fell backward, tumbling down his back and tail. She hit the ground with an, “Oaf!”
He spun around and stared at her, unwilling to believe she was really in his lair. As she struggled to her feet, he shifted.
“Well that was quite the greeting . . . oh!”
He grabbed her and dropped both of them to the ground, his arms protecting her head and back. Once he had her on the ground, he kissed her. Her body’s response immediate and as strong as always. Then he pinned her arms over her head, holding her body down with his. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Where have I been? Where have you been?”
“Here! Waiting for you!”
She tried to yank her arms from his grasp, but he held on tight. He would not let her get away now. “You left me, Fearghus. I woke up and you were gone. What was I supposed to think?”
“That I wanted to protect you.”
“Yes. So your sister told me. But why didn�
��t you tell me?”
“Would you have let me go?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He stared at her . . . hard. She glared back.
“If that’s how you feel, then why are you here now, Annwyl?”
“Your mother came for me,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
Fearghus stopped. “What?”
“I said that your mother came for me. Told me it was time to take my place beside you.”
His mother ordered Annwyl back to him. That couldn’t be good. Fearghus was afraid to ask but he had to know. “What did you say to her, Annwyl?”
“I told her to mind her own business.”
“Gods, woman!” Fearghus released her so he could use his hands to cover his eyes in exasperation as he sat back on his heels. “Are you mad?”
Annwyl pulled herself out from under him. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“What else?” He looked at her. “What else did you say to her?”
She shrugged. “Let’s see . . . well, I asked her how Bercelak’s tail was doing?”
Fearghus buried his head in his hands again. “Are you that sure she won’t kill you?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Figured she’d kill me right on the spot.” She stated it so nonchalantly he knew she was being completely honest with him.
“And yet you . . .”
“Don’t like to be ordered around, Fearghus. You should know that.”
“Well, she clearly didn’t kill you. So what did she say?”
Again the shrug. “She gave me the loyalty of all dragons.” Fearghus stared at Annwyl. Not sure he heard her correctly. His mother handed to a human the loyalty of all dragons? Was he on another plain of existence? Had the gods decided to play tricks on his mind? What in hell . . . “Then she said she had to go, and I asked her if she was going back to her chain.”
His mother’s gift completely forgotten, he tried to look stern, but kept laughing instead. “Tell me you’re lying. Please.”
Annwyl grinned at him. “Wish I could. But it just flew out of my mouth.”
Fearghus grinned back. How could he not? He loved the most difficult woman he’d ever met, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He eyed her slowly. A bit leaner and a little darker, he guessed from the time she spent in battle and under the two suns. She still had a thin scar across her cheek from her brother’s gauntleted hand. And his brands stood out clear and triumphant on her forearms. Ah, Annwyl. Still beautiful. And still his.
“That’s a very subtle tunic you’re wearing, my love.”
Annwyl glanced down at the sleeveless chainmail shirt she wore. “I had these specially made. I like my arms to be free and comfortable. Easier to take heads.”
Fearghus nodded. “Did you miss me?”
Annwyl leaned back, the palms of her hands lying flat against the cave floor. Her body stretched tight. Taunting him. Tempting him. After all this time he still wanted her so badly he could barely breathe. “Not really.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Tell me you missed me, Annwyl.”
Annwyl’s eyes locked with his own. “No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me now, woman.”
She stared at his mouth. “Make me.”
“A challenge, Queen Annwyl?”
“Not a challenge you’d ever be able to live up to, Prince Dragon.”
With a snarl he knew only Annwyl would find playful, he seized her ankle and snatched her body to him, dragging her across the cave floor.
“Oi!”
He pulled off her weapons, yanked off her chainmail shirt, and dragged her leggings from her body, pausing only briefly to lick the brands on the inside of her thighs.
Annwyl pushed at his chest. “You know, I should really beat the living—” He didn’t let her finish. Instead he pushed her down and stretched himself across her, covering her mouth in a brutal kiss. She shoved at his shoulders while her legs wrapped around his waist. Still his Annwyl, always fighting to the bitter end while milking him dry. He grabbed her wrists and again pinned her arms above her head. She growled in response as she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. He settled between her thighs and buried himself inside of her. Slick and ready, her body shook beneath his with barely contained lust. Her moans and cries desperate against his lips. Her hips arched against him and he thrust hard into her in response.
She’d been gone too long from him. Too many nights spent alone, wondering if she were safe. If she were happy. If she missed him. Too much time apart for both of them, and he would never let it happen again.
So he Claimed her. Again. And he made sure she knew it.
Annwyl wrapped her legs around his waist and wondered how she’d managed so long without having him inside her. Filling her completely, making her think of nothing but him. Wanting nothing but him. A brutal coupling, but one she understood. He was Claiming her. Again. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. She needed it as much as he did. To know she belonged to him. And that he belonged to her.
She struggled to loose her arms from his steel grip, knowing that he’d never let go. She wanted to touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers. But she loved the fight just as much. He’d never give her an inch. Never let her get away with anything. She would always be his challenge and he would always face it with his usual unquenched vigor.
Annwyl strained against him. Each hard thrust bringing her closer to climax. He kissed her face. Her jaw. Her neck. But when his teeth sank into the flesh below her collarbone, she went over the edge. She screamed in release. A war cry. But he continued ahead. Never stopping until, several minutes later, he tore another scream from her. And that time he came with her. His roar almost drowning out hers.
Fearghus released her arms, laying his head against her chest. She managed a tired smile as she wrapped herself around him. “All right. So I missed you a bit,” she finally admitted.
He laughed and she closed her eyes, the feeling of that deep voice sliding through her. She was safe. At home.
“No, no, Annwyl. Please stop. You’re drowning me with all your emotion.” He chuckled as his hands gently caressed her sweat-covered body. “And just so you know. I missed you too.”
“Then why did you not come for me?”
Fearghus heard the pain in her voice and he hated himself for causing it. “Because I’m an idiot, Annwyl. That’s why.”
“So long as we understand each other.”
He smiled. “We do.”
“Well . . . good.” He hugged her tight and licked the side of her breast. She gave a soft moan and Fearghus knew that he never wanted to be without that sound ever again.
“And why exactly did your mother come for me, Fearghus?”
“Guess I had her a bit worried.”
“Oh? And how did you do that?”
He shrugged. “Well, you know . . .”
“You scared the hell out of everyone, didn’t you?”
“Just a bit.”
Annwyl gripped him tighter. “Foolish higher beings.”
He looked into the face of his mate, stared into those beautiful green eyes. “You should be scared. I’m a dragon, Annwyl. A born hunter and killer. The most ancient of destroyers.”
Annwyl burst out laughing. “You are so cute when you try to look scary.” She tweaked his nose with her thumb and forefinger.
“What the hell am I going to do with you, wench?”
She ran her hand along his jaw. “Rule with me, Fearghus.”
“What?”
“Rule with me.”
“You want me to come with you to Garbhán Isle?” And of course he would. He would give up everything to be with her. He had no intention of ever letting her go again. He just wanted to hear her say it.
Annwyl looked off toward the lake. He could see it on her face. She already had a plan; she just needed to figure out how to get him to agree to it. “That’s one option.”
“And another option is . . .�
�
“We rule Dark Plains from here.”
“No.”
“Why? It’s perfect.”
“Annwyl, I don’t think the nobles would feel comfortable being here.” And he didn’t want them anywhere near his lair.
But Annwyl sneered in disgust. “I don’t want those people here!” she barked at him, clearly annoyed he’d even suggest it. “With us! And don’t you dare offer!”
“Then wht are you saying?”
“Garbhán Isle is not my home, Fearghus. This is. You are.”
He thought of the part of his lair he’d made into their home. He’d equipped it with everything he thought a human might need or want and then added the biggest bookshelf and bed he could find. At the time he kept wondering why he would even try. He always thought a queen must have her court with her. But then, Annwyl would never be an ordinary queen.
“I’m guessing, woman, you already have this planned.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she sat up, pulling away from him. “I’ve got it all worked out. The troops can set perimeters outside the glen. That way we’ll be protected. And, of course, I’ll only use my best and closest men. Morfyd and Brastias can take care of the day-to-day issues at Garbhán Isle. It’s all dead boring, anyway. It’s all about lumber and grain and . . . yuck! I can’t even make myself care.” He shook his head and grinned as she continued, “Your family and the other dragons will feel safer here, if they dare visit. And if there is any strike against our throne, Morfyd will be able to let us know. And now that your mother is on our side we can strike down anyone that gets in our way. Crush them like ants!”
She finished the last part off as if she just told him about a beautiful dress she made or new horses she bought. Not that she was, actually, discussing an alliance not seen in Dark Plains for more than a thousand years between men and dragons. An alliance she clearly planned to use.
He stared at her, not sure what he should say.
“Come on, Fearghus. You can’t tell me that’s not bloody brilliant.”