by Ann Gimpel
“No. I know better,” he thundered amid more fire, smoke, and ash. Good thing nothing flammable grew here.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” I mumbled, meaning to keep my words in my head and failing. “Mother entertained a dragon. Ha. No wonder she couldn’t get rid of me.”
“Dragon younglings are precious,” Nidhogg snarled. “We do not do away with them, no matter how thoughtlessly conceived.”
Something about either his sentence or the meaning behind it didn’t sit well. I tossed my head back and said, “I’m the innocent bystander here. None of this is my fault, but I suffered plenty because of Mother’s roving eye and a dragon who couldn’t keep it zipped.”
Bjorn edged to my side and wrapped a hand around my upper arm. I got his message, even without him saying anything. I should both apologize and shut up before I dug myself in deeper. I couldn’t quite get anything that sounded apologetic past my lips, but I could shut up.
Nidhogg straightened to his full height. “Well?”
I looked into his spinning eyes. “Well, what?”
“Ye should be delighted, thrilled. A million questions must be bursting through your mind.”
“Really? I should be all those things because I host alien magic I know nothing about?” I clacked my teeth together, determined to ride herd on the rest of the sarcastic rejoinders crowded in the back of my throat.
“She doesn’t mean it.” Bjorn spoke for me. “We’re fresh from a battle, and—”
“What battle?” Nidhogg roared the question.
“One of those abominations you described crawled through a gateway. In this case, it was a griffon with a long, snakelike neck.”
“Where?” Nidhogg thundered.
“Same spot where you dropped me into the midst of the last batch of atrocities.”
He spewed fire, and his eyes spun so fast I had to look away. “Worrisome,” he pronounced. “I understand why ye came around to deciding to reveal her dragon side.”
I expected Bjorn to roll his eyes. Instead he bowed briefly and said, “Thank you, sire.”
Nidhogg turned his attention back to me. “Ye, Runa, are a Dragon Heir. It means many things, but your studies must begin immediately. I only hope we are not too late.”
I’ve never been into bowing and scraping. And I quit being accommodating when I was about ten. I stood tall and yanked my arm out of Bjorn’s grip. Once it was free, I crossed my arms beneath my breasts. “I welcome instruction in magic, but I have a life here. People who depend on me. I refuse to drop everything and turn my existence inside out just because you finally decided I was important enough to merit your attention.”
I should have stopped there, but I was on a roll, and holding my tongue has never been one of my strong suits. “How long have you known about me?” I demanded. “From the sound of things, you’ve been aware of me since my birth. You could have come to me anytime. But you waited until now.
“Fine. I respect whatever internal reasoning led up to today, but you must respect me too. I’ll do my damnedest to learn your magic, and do whatever else is required of my newly uncovered status as a Dragon Heir.” It was hard, but I didn’t imbue the words with exasperation, not too much, anyway. “I’ll do all those things,” I went on, “but in my own way and on my own timetable.”
I waited and held eye contact. No way was I about to back down. I’d cut my teeth on Celtic arrogance. This was just one more sanctimonious bastard who was stuck on himself. I’d absorb what this whole dragon thing meant later—when Nidhogg wasn’t breathing down my neck.
The dragon ripped his attention away from me; it felt like my top layer of skin came along with it. “Reason with her,” he snarled at Bjorn just before the air around him turned into a mélange of color and he vanished.
Bjorn made a grunting noise. “’Tisn’t wise to anger a dragon,” he mumbled.
“Yeah well, wisdom isn’t my middle name.” I was still furious at being ordered about. “I’m going back inside. Are you coming?”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve had warmer invitations from alley cats guarding a kill, but yes, I’ll be right behind you.”
Chapter Seventeen, Bjorn
I’m not sure quite what I envisaged once I figured out Nidhogg planned to tell Runa about her dragon blood. But I expected her to react in some fashion. He might have told her she was part unicorn or part Fae for all the difference it made.
Maybe it would take time to sink in, but my overarching impression was she didn’t give a fuck. This was just one more drain on her resources, and she would have been equally happy never knowing. Probably happier. I beat back a smile. I’d respected her before, but she’d vaulted to a whole new level.
I caught up with her in the doorway to the common room. “We need to talk. Will this chamber remain empty?”
“Probably not. Come this way.” She did an about face and marched along a curved corridor. The bite of Celtic power was strong in these tunnels. It surprised me because centuries had passed since they’d bided here. Except for Runa. For some reason, I tended to discount the other half of her blood: the Celtic one.
The way her mother’s kinsmen had treated her was abysmal, and I was angry with them. Odin could be a fucker, but then so was Thor. And Loki was so bad I kept well clear of him. The other deities in the Norse Pantheon had good hearts for the most part. But even Odin had a soft spot for children. If he’d wronged any, I’d not heard about it.
Runa ducked beneath hangings off to the left, and I followed her into a small, rounded room. Lights flickered into being without obvious magic from her, so they were probably keyed to her energy. A bed was tucked into one corner with covers rucked up toward the near end. Hooks lined the wall opposite the bed, and a variety of garments hung from them.
She turned to face me and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “First off, my name is Rowan. If you keep calling me Runa in your mind, someone will pick up on it, and the secret of my name will no longer be an advantage.”
I nodded agreement. She was correct. Enemies not knowing her true name might not confer much of a benefit, but things were going downhill fast in Midgard. She was wise to hang onto every single edge she had.
“Next item,” she went on, apparently satisfied I’d comply with her request. “Is Nidhogg my father?”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected her to ask that. “No. He already told you as much, and dragons don’t lie. They are masters at twisting the truth, but he answered you directly when you questioned him.”
“Mmph. So who is?”
“I have no idea, which is why we still need to pay Ceridwen a visit.”
Runa—Rowan—made a face that looked as if she’d chomped on something bitter. “I really don’t want to, but I don’t see where there’s much choice. I know enough to make things uncomfortable for her, and—”
I shook my head. “What makes you think the rest of the pantheon didn’t sense your dragon blood? It was obvious to me.”
“Your point?” She set her mouth in a tight line.
“Twofold. Either they didn’t care, or they had some investment in sparing your mother embarrassment.” I blew out a breath. “Your mother is a seer—and a damned talented one. The Celts value her prophecies. They also might have felt sorry for her.”
“Pfft. I doubt that.” Rowan rolled her eyes.
“You do know the tale about her other children?”
“Of course. Everyone knows how she brewed up wisdom to make up for her son being ugly, but the casting went awry.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot to keep myself from giving in to exhaustion and sinking to the floor. The large black cat who’d sought refuge in my lap jetted into the room, meowing like a mad thing. Rowan held out her arms; the cat leapt into them and then used her body to crawl to her shoulders.
Watching them, I was certain they’d executed this maneuver hundreds of times. I chose my next words carefully. “You only see one side of Ceridwen—the one you hate.” I hurried on bef
ore Rowan transferred her ire to me. “She deserves every bad thing you feel about her, but there’s another side to the story.”
“Like what?” Rowan’s words could have etched glass.
“She couldn’t avoid giving birth to you, but she had many choices once you were born. She could have sent you away. She could have locked you onto a borderworld. Instead, she kept you by her side. Granted, she ignored you, but—”
“Spare me,” Rowan broke in. “However I feel—or don’t feel—about Mother, it’s long past time to get over it. I was just thinking that when my astral self was watching you and Tansy combining your magic to help me.”
I sank into a crouch because I couldn’t help myself. My legs didn’t want to hold me upright any longer. Rowan perched on the edge of the bed. “I can drag a chair in here,” she offered.
“I’m fine.” Something else had occurred to me, and it was a perfect time to toss it out there. “This will sound farfetched, but another potential reason Ceridwen kept you where she could see you is she holds knowledge about your future. You wield a potent combination of power. There have only been a handful of other Dragon Heirs scattered throughout time, and—”
“Tell me about them,” she demanded and leaned forward.
“It might be easier if you asked specific questions,” I countered. “I need my library to give you names, dates, lineage, and suchlike.”
She nodded solemnly. “Will I be able to shapeshift?”
“I’m fairly certain the answer to that is no.”
A wry grin curved her mouth. “Damn. It would be so advantageous. Have there been others with Celtic blood?”
I scrunched my forehead until my eyebrows probably touched. “I don’t know for certain. The Dragon Heirs who come to mind are all Norse blends. It makes sense since dragons live in most of the Nine Worlds.”
“Dewi doesn’t,” she pointed out.
“Another reason for us to pay your mother a visit. We’ll want to include the Celtic dragon. She and Nidhogg must know one another.”
Rowan was nodding slowly. “Some things are coming together. No wonder Mother cautioned me to steer clear of Dewi. The dragon goddess might have taken pity on me, moved me under her wings, and cared for me.” Rowan fisted one hand and punched the air. “No matter what kind of spin you put on it, I was a possession. Ceridwen might not have wanted me, but she didn’t want anyone else to have me, either.”
“Aye. That would add to my suspicion she knows something about your future. The role you have yet to play.”
“But why create the Breaking?”
I considered the question. “Perhaps she didn’t mean for it to cut so deep. If her primary goal was to drive you back to her side, the Breaking was overkill.”
Rowan snorted. “Major overkill.” She patted the bed next to her. “Get up off the floor and sit here. I’m feeling like a shitty host.”
I wanted to sit next to her, so I didn’t argue the point or tell her how comfortable I was squatting on the floor. It took more effort than I would have guessed to unfold my body. Once I was on my feet, the few steps to reach the bed were easy.
I’d no sooner settled next to her—keeping a small space between our thighs—when the cat jumped to my shoulders. “Oomph. He weighs more than I expected.”
She turned a surprised look my way, eyebrows raised, mouth half open. “Mort is very particular. He rarely lets anyone else touch him. He found me when he was a scraggly kitten and hasn’t been far from my side since.”
“Animals tend to like me.” I reached up toward the cat, and he nuzzled my filthy fingers. At some point, I needed to clean up.
“I like you too,” she said and scooted so her body leaned against mine.
My reaction to her touch was instantaneous. Heat began in my midsection and rolled through me. Before I wrapped my arms around her and turned her so I could kiss her, I had at least one more thing to accomplish.
“You didn’t say much outside,” I prodded.
“What was there to say?” She shrugged. “Over the years, I’ve imagined my father was anything from a demon to an elf to a vampire. A dragon isn’t that far removed from all my other theories.”
Before I could say anything else, she went on. “I’ve always known my magic was strong enough to rival the full blooded Celts, so I assumed my father must have been a powerful magician. Besides, Mother was selective about who she took to her bed. I couldn’t see her diddling the help.”
“Did you have servants?” I quirked a brow.
“Not usually. Magic is far more efficient, and you don’t end up with bodies that need food and shelter when they’re not cooking and cleaning for you.” She laid a hand on my leg and tucked her head onto my shoulder, partially displacing the cat who clawed his way to our laps.
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding wistful. “This whole thing with my father was like an obsession. I wanted to know so badly, I would have offered up my firstborn.” She chuckled. “But like all obsessions, now that it’s no longer a secret, knowing isn’t nearly as satisfying as I imagined it would be.”
I understood perfectly. Meeting the Norse gods for the first time had been kind of like that. I’d placed them on such high pedestals, the experience couldn’t come close to my expectations.
And it hadn’t.
I laced my fingers in with hers. She squeezed lightly and murmured, “The magic part should worry me, but it doesn’t. I figure maybe there’s a slightly different mix to accomplish some of the things I do, but I can’t believe I have a rich vein of alien magic that’s been there all along. If I possessed such a thing, I’d have stumbled across it. I’ve been in some dicey situations where I was pulling out all the stops. If I didn’t trip across it then, it’s not there to be found.”
She angled her body until she more-or-less faced me. The cat squalled indignantly and jumped to the floor. Having her so close to me was heady. My chest tightened; my heart beat faster. My nether regions came alive with heat and need.
Looking right at me, she said, “The one thing that makes an enormous difference in how I wield my power is you. We strengthen one another. I doubt there’s an enemy who could stand before us.”
I cupped the side of her face and said, “Enough of an army assembled against us would tax even our resources. It worries me because someone seems intent on drawing us out and challenging us.”
“Which means we’re not the only ones who know how synergistic our magic is.”
Somewhere between our impromptu trip to Niflheim and battling the griffon, the same thought had occurred to me. Not much I could do about it, though. Because it was easier than addressing thorny puzzles, I focused on Rowan, her enticing scent and the press of her body against mine. Her skin felt smooth, silky beneath my fingertips. A quick glance at my hand brought me up short, and I moved it. “I’m really dirty. I shouldn’t be touching you.”
Rowan waved a hand in front of my face. Grime had caked beneath her fingernails, and her fingers were streaked with dried blood and greasy soot. “We’re a match in that regard.”
I craved her far worse than I wanted to clean up. A basin and ewer sat on a stand across the small room, but I couldn’t use them. I’d pollute the water and the scrap of towel neatly folded next to it. What I needed was a creek. One flowed not far from the entrance to these caverns.
“Bjorn.”
The way she said my name stoked the flames raging through me, and drove all thoughts of anything but her out of my mind. I angled my head and kissed her. Soft, tentative, I offered her a choice. In case I’d read her wrong. Her lips were lush beneath mine, and her wonderful mint-and-vanilla scent thickened around us.
She kissed me back hungrily and wove her arms around me. I gripped the back of her neck to hold her in place. The taste of her lips was enticing as we licked and bit and sucked. When she opened her mouth to my tongue, I teased the inside of her mouth, exploring its sweet folds, and imagined trading my cock for my tongue.
Rowan
molded her upper body to mine. The curves of her breasts pressed into me, nipples forming hard points of desire. Our mouths were still glued together, and our breath came faster. She was just as aroused as I was, and the knowledge delighted me.
The hand she’d had on my thigh found its way to my painfully erect cock, and she rubbed it through my trousers. I snaked a hand between us to capture one of her breasts and twirled the nipple between two fingers. Her breast felt amazing. The image of her naked chest returned to me.
Her breasts were high and full and tipped with golden-brown nipples the size of old-fashioned coins. I plunged my tongue into her mouth again, and she sparred with it and pressed her breast deeper into my hand.
Savagery ran through me. A need to possess the woman in my arms. I’d had sex before, not lots but some. The heat and need and urgency had been nothing like what I felt now.
She tumbled backward onto her pallet, dragging me with her. Lying side by side was a definite improvement. She tossed a leg over one of my thighs, and the heat from her seared me. Rowan ripped her mouth from mine. “What are we doing? The world could be ending. We should be out there practicing fighting, and—”
“We belong together, you and me.” I brushed my dirt-caked thumb over her lower lip that was swollen from our kiss. “I don’t know how or why, but we’re meant to be together.”
Her eyes had turned to molten gold, liquid with lust. “I’ve never believed those fated-mate connections, but holding you, being with you, feels right.”
“Right enough to make love?” Suddenly cautious, I didn’t want to force myself onto her if she wasn’t sure.”
She grinned and thrust her pelvis against my leg. “More than right enough. Maybe we could clean up first and do this properly? I know a pool not far from here. It’s small, and we could heat it with magic.”
Visions of stripping off our clothes and making love in the pool blasted through me. I could almost feel the press of her breasts and the slick tightness of her vault closing around me. My cock jumped against her touch.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her smile had widened into an expression that Aphrodite would have approved of.