Her face took on a charming beet-red color. “Yes. We’re done now.”
“You sure? I mean, we can keep going if you like.”
She growled at him. “Enjoying this, are you dragon?”
“As a matter of fact, yes I am.”
“Down.” He carefully lowered her to the ground and watched her struggle to get untangled from his tail. She finally had to yank off her shirt and Fearghus took in a shaky breath. She wore no bindings.
She really needed to stop getting nak*d around him.
“I should be faster than that.”
“Annwyl, you’re tired. You had a long day. As did I.”
Annwyl raised an eyebrow as she pulled the shirt back on. “And what did you do all day?”
“Many things. Dragons are very busy higher beings.”
Annwyl smirked at him, her arms crossing in front of her voluptuous chest. “Higher beings, eh? It must be nice.”
“You need not feel jealous. You are much better than most humans.”
Annwyl laughed outright. And Fearghus realized how much he loved to see her smile. “Why thank you, oh mighty dragon.” She curtsied low.
“Now. Now, Annwyl. No need to curtsy. A simple nod of your head and absolute worship will be more than enough.”
Annwyl liked Fearghus more and more every day. At some point she began to think of him as her dragon. As if the great beast belonged to her and her alone. Ridiculous, of course. The dragon belonged to no one, but she found the feeling comforting.
She laughed now when she thought of how afraid she had been of him. Afraid of him and all his kind. That feeling seemed like ages ago. Now she found herself almost dreading the day she would have to leave. he and the dragon never spoke of it. They spoke of everything except her leaving.
And Annwyl did love talking to her dragon. She loved to hear the history of his kind. The stories of his family. She loved to hear him. Just the deep, rumbling sound of his dragon voice calmed her. Eased the rage that always pulsated just beneath the surface.
“Absolute worship? That’s a very tall order.”
“You are a very tall girl.”
Annwyl chuckled as she knelt before the dragon and held her hand out to him.
“I thought you knelt before no man.”
“You are a dragon. And don’t get your hopes up. I only want to see your talon.”
“I’m under such scrutiny,” he grumbled in annoyance, but laid one of his talons into her palm nonetheless. Coal black and smooth, its tip sharp and quite deadly. She closed her hand over it, marveling at the fact that her long fingers could barely reach around.
“What’s it like?”
“What? Being a dragon?”
“No.” She smiled as she released the talon. “Flying?”
He laughed. “Fine.”
“Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can do?”
“Well, I’ve been flying most of my life so it’s not as interesting to me as it seems to be to you.”
“You take your gifts for granted, dragon.”
“As do you.”
“And what gifts do I have exactly? The ability to have my own brother trying to kill me?”
“The ability to inspire hardened warriors to follow you into battle. I know few who have such a gift as that.”
Annwyl shrugged. “They were desperate. No one else knows much about my brother.”
“If they were desperate, they would have sent you back to him with a ribbon around your head.”
Annwyl smiled at the dragon. He possessed the uncanny ability to make her feel as if she could challenge the entire world and win. And after a long day of being thrown on her back and told her rage would only get her killed, it was nice to come back to the lair and have the dragon make her feel like she was worth something.
She sat down on his front claw, leaning back against his forearm. She let out a deep, contented breath and felt her sore body begin to relax. She put her hands behind her head and looked off into the dark cavern, amazed at the size of the dragon’s home.
With mild sarcasm, “Comfortable?”
She wiggled her rear against his scales. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I’m quite comfortable, thank you.” She let his chuckle wash over her and her body relaxed even more.
“Annwyl?”
“Aye?”
“Did you get those marks on your back from your brother?”
Annwyl didn’t even have to look to know which marks he spoke of. There were scars from battle all over her body. But the ones her dragon spoke of were brutal whip marks that covered her back. Those scars had belonged to her for more years than she could remember.
“No.” Annwyl cleared her throat, and she admitted something to the dragon that she never admitted to anyone ever before. “I got these from my father.” She still hated the man. Even though he had been dead for so many years, she still hated him. She lowered her arms and laid her hands in her lap. “My brother has the same marks. One of the few things we have in common.”
Annwyl didn’t even realize at first that she clasped her hands together. Clasping them so tightly that the knuckles had gone white. Then the dragon placed two of his talons against them, and she realized that only her father ever caused her to feel this way. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. She’d shed enough tears over that bastard. She would shed no more.
She opened her eyes when the dragon stretched himself out and crossed his forearms over each other. He adjusted her so she rested in the crook of his forearm, his claws ensconcing her safely. He lowered his head until it rested over her outstretched legs. She stared at him for several long moments. His eyes closed; he didn’t make any further moves. She realized he wanted her to feel safe. And she did. He was giving her his strength, his power, his protection. She didn’t fear the razor-sharp talons that laid so close to her body or the mighty head with all its dangerous fangs. She didn’t fear Fearghus the Destroyer at all. She marveled at the feeling.
The feeling of being safe. It seemed strange to feel neither fear nor rage. As new a feeling to her as her desires for the knight. And, she had to admit, she liked both. That two different beings could introduce her to such opposite emotions shocked her to her very core. No matter what happened, both dragon and man would forever share a place in her heart.
Annwyl reached out her hand and brushed her fingertips lightly over the scales on his snout. She let her hand rest there as she closed her eyes and leaned back.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that, but when she finally couldn’t stifle a yawn any longer, Fearghus spoke up. “You’d best get to bed, Lady Annwyl.”
“Aye.” Annwyl pulled her legs out from under the dragon and stood up, shaking off the pins and needles that ran through them. “That demon knight you’ve trapped me with is quite the task master.” His head still remained close, so she bent down and kissed the dragon on his black snout. “Good night, Lord Dragon. And thank you.”
“For what?”
She smiled. “For nothing at all. Which is exactly what I needed.”
Annwyl walked past him to get back to her chamber. As she left she couldn’t help but slide her hand across his leathery wings and the scales of his body.
* * *
Fearghus closed his eyes as her hand swept across his body. Something she did almost every night now before going to bed. Although he didn’t expect her to kiss him. It took all his strength to not shift right then and there. To kiss her back as he wanted to. To do what he could to take away her pain over a cruel father and a sadistic brother.
His sister was right, of course. Unforgivable brat. He did long for the girl. Longed to make her his own. But the reason she felt so comfortable with him was because he was not a man. From men she’d only known pain and abuse. Yet a dragon protected her. Cared for her. Saved her life.
He thought of her touching his human flesh the way she touched his scales. Running her hands along his body, the skin sensitive to the touch because of the shifting.
His entire body shuddered at the thought, and he headed toward his lake. The water, cold and bracing, was just what he needed right now.
Hefaidd-Hen glared at the flames and wondered what the hell was going on. He’d never really focused much energy on seeing into Dark Glen before. He never cared. But his instincts, which were never wrong, told him he could find the girl there. And he needed to find the girl.
Not for Lorcan. He could care less whether the fool ever got his precious revenge. It seemed that the girl had more reason to want her brother dead. But Hefaidd-Hen needed the girl for other reasons. He had to stop the rebellion and she was the key.
For he had plans. Important plans he needed Lorcan for. The girl, however, would never be stupid enough to trust him. He could never have made her an ally. But Lorcan, so lost in his rage, didn’t even realize that someone like Hefaidd-Hen would never waste his time on such petty battles. Unless he wanted something in return.
So he needed the girl out of the way. Every day she pulled more and more loyalty from the other kingdoms to her side. What had started out as a poor and rather ineffectual rebellion had become something much more deadly and decisive in the girl’s capable hands.
Lorcan insisted he wanted her alive, so he could have the pleasure of taking her head. And Hefaidd-Hen would do what he could to keep the fool happy. At least for the time being. But if the girl had to die first, she had to die.
Hefaidd-Hen looked back into the flames and frowned. He still couldn’t see anything. What could possibly be strong enough to block him? It must be powerful Magick because there were few who could match him.
Whoever or whatever protected the little whelp needed to die as well.
All these little distractions took him away from his plans. And soon his patience would run out. Especially with Lorcan. He didn’t realize someone could be so dislikable. But the man was. Never happy. Never satisfied. Any failure met with brutal and uncontrollable rage.
Hefaidd-Hen wondered how long before he lost his patience with the puny man. He had a feeling he’d know soon enough.
Chapter 9
“If you want him, take him.” It sounded more like an order than anything else. And Annwyl felt compelled to obey. She smiled at her own centaur shit. She wanted the man. Nothing the witch could say either way would ever change that.
Annwyl reached the stream where she and the knight always met to practice. She stopped short, taking in those broad shoulders and back that tapered into the narrow waist. He crouched by the stream, his body taut and ready under his chainmail. Even before he turned around she knew he was beautiful.
He glanced over his shoulder, sensing her presence. “Well, hello, pretty lady.” He pushed thick golden blond hair out of his eyes and leered at her. Openly. Didn’t even try to hide his lust.
“Who the hell are you?” Considering almost all feared Dark Glen, there seemed to be many visitors here of late, her included.
“Gwenvael is my name. And you are?”
“Your worst enemy, unless you tell me your business here, knight.”
She glanced down at his surcoat and noticed it bore the same color and crest as the one worn by her knight. Another mercenary it seemed.