Lorcan winced, remembering the brutality of the beating they both received. What gave him small satisfaction was that he’d expected the beating. His bastard sister apparently lived a simple life in her poor village and received little or no discipline. Her reaction to her punishment... well, truly reward enough for him.
He didn’t know one could hate someone as much as he hated this girl. But she continued to make a fool of him. There were several surrounding kingdoms that gave her campaign gold and troops in the hopes she would do what they could not. Kill him. Take his throne.
He’d see her head on a spike outside his castle walls first. And he now had the perfect ally to assist him.
He never much liked witches. Didn’t like the idea of such weak beings as females having that kind of power that they probably could not control. But he tolerated sorcerers well enough. And Hefaidd-Hen was just what he needed. Pay him well and Hefaidd-Hen would hand you the world. He’d proven himself over and over the few months they’d been allies. Although he still hadn’t captured his sister.
Lorcan heard the moan of the soldier pinned to the floor beneath his boot. With a sneer, he pushed his foot down harder on his neck. The worthless little bastard had failed him. He’d come back without the bitch.
He glanced over his shoulder at his lieutenants. They watched him, trying their best to hide their fear. But he could smell it. He looked back at the lowering suns. “I want my sister.” He growled the words low. “I want my sister!” He slammed his foot down, snapping the man’s neck and crushing his jaw. “Now get out of my sight!”
He heard them run from the room.
They better run.
He would have his sister. He would see the bitch dead if he had to destroy half the world to get to her.
“Well, I see now why the women in the village avoid her. She’s crazy.”
Fearghus the Destroyer settled his enormous bulk near his lair’s underground lake. “She’s not crazy, little sister. She’s angry.”
Morfyd settled against a rock opposite her brother, wrapping her cloak tightly around her body. Her human form was constantly cold, constantly shivering. And yet, she lived freely among the humans. They all believed her to be human. Merely a powerful witch and healer. Even as Annwyl’s brother ordered her face sliced open during the early days of his reign, she stayed human. Fearghus could simply never understand why.
But for the first time, Fearghus needed to call on his sister as a human. His power could only keep Annwyl alive for a short time. Morfyd and her ancient dragon Magicks actually healed the girl by mending her damaged organs. And as a human female, she could comfortably tend to the girl’s needs.
Morfyd nodded. “From what I’ve heard she has much to be angry about. It’s a well-known fact that her father was a tyrant and her brother hated her from the day she appeared.”
“Do you know why?” Fearghus found himself becoming obsessively fascinated with the girl.
“I know they don’t have the same mother. Annwyl’s mother never married her father. You know how important that is to these humans. And Lorcan never let her forget that she was a bastard. A poor bastard, no less, from some little village east of Kerezik.”
“Can she be trusted?”
Morfyd shrugged. “Her men are loyal to her. And as much as the village women avoid her they do respect her. They trust their men’s lives with her. But whether we can trust her? That I do not know, brother. She’s still human.”
Fearghus, too, wasn’t sure he could trust Annwyl. Dragons possessed powers that far outweighed most creatures. But these powers, like their ability to use flame or to shift to human, kept them alive. Humans were a treacherous and dangerous lot and made killing one of his kind as some sort of rite of passage. No. His brethren relied on secrecy.He couldn’t and wouldn’t betray that to a girl he knew nothing about. Just bringing her to his lair was a dangerous risk he normally would never take. There were very few who knew a dragon lived in Dark Glen. And those who stumbled upon him in the past he quickly silenced.But that hadn’t been an option for Annwyl. She really did fascinate him, just as he said. Her bravery. Her strength. Her beauty. And she was beautiful. Tall. Strong. Brown hair with golden streaks that reached down past the waist of her lean body.
“I’m still impressed she challenged you like that,” his sister continued. “Although it could just be more proof that she’s mad.”
Fearghus heard her, but barely. His mind busy recalling when he first found Annwyl. He shifted to human to easily remove her armor and get at her wound. He remembered how quickly and strongly his human body reacted to the sight of her. Naked, pale, and covered in her own blood, there was something about her that called to him. As he chanted the spell that would keep her alive until Morfyd arrived, she watched him with the darkest green eyes he’d ever seen. Over the subsequent days, while he cared for her, he kept seeing those eyes in his dreams. That long, lean body covered in many battle scars there as well.
Without even trying, the girl trapped his attention and he couldn’t stop thinking about her, which was unusual. Quite a few females had graced his life over the more than two hundred years he existed. All of them beautiful and cultured. Some human and some dragon. But none entranced him like this tiny girl. How tall was she anyway? Maybe six feet? He smiled; only his people would call her “tiny.”
A small fireball hit him in the face. He again looked at his sister, smoke still curling out from her human nostrils.
“What, brat?”
“I said she’ll want to return to her men as soon as she can.”
“I know.”
His sister smiled up at him. “And will you be ready for that, idiot?”
“It’s Lord Idiot to you.” Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. “And yes, brat. I will be.”
No matter how beautiful Annwyl was to him, he wouldn’t get involved with some human girl. He would simply let her heal, then send her back to her people. And that would be the end of that.
Chapter 3
Annwyl dreamed again. Ever since that bastard’s sword impaled her, the same dream returned to her over and over again. Of a beautiful man with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Tall, powerful, and strong of body. Standing over her, he would wipe her brow and softly whisper that she would live. And once, in her favorite dream, he’d kissed her. The softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever received.
And every time she woke up and found him not there, the same twinge of regret tightened her chest and made her body ache. The same twinge of longing racked her waking hours.
Long ago Annwyl gave up hope that she’d ever find a man she could love and respect. The warriors at her brother’s castle were brutish, rude, and often brainless. By the time she escaped and went on to lead her army, she’d become almost dead inside. Over the two years she led the rebellion a few of her men showed her some interest . . . until something made her angry. Then they all seemed to drift away. Unlike the dragon. He didn’t shrink from her rage. He appeared to enjoy it. Greatly.
The strange way of man and beast. It never failed to confuse her.
She wondered where she’d created this dream lover from. Had she ever seen the man before? Perhaps in one of the towns or villages that aided her troops? Or perhaps she created him from her own imagination. She knew not. But lately she’d begun to regret having to wake up.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her, as he always did. He stroked her face with his large, strong hand. She sighed contentedly and smiled. He returned it with a smile of his own. Annwyl felt bold in this dream world. Brazen. She reached out a hand and slid it around the back of his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. She liked this dream lover, he didn’t resist her. Instead he let her lead him. When their lips met, her whole body responded. Intense heat from his body licked over her flesh. Her n**ples tightened and grew hard, begging for the touch of those strong hands of his. Heat and moisture pulsed between her legs. She experienced things she never felt before. And she wanted more.
His tongue licked across her lips and she instinctively opened her mouth to let him in. She moaned as his tongue slid across and around hers, and her body arched as she tried to get closer to him. She wanted her dream lover. In her bed. In her.
But he pulled away from her. She grasped for him . . . and found herself face down on the floor. Again.
“By all that’s . . .” She pushed herself up as Morfyd hurried
to her side.
“By the gods, lass. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes.” She took Morfyd’s arm and allowed the woman to help her sit back on the bed. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t keep ending up on the floor. Now it was just getting embarrassing.
“You should leave her there. She looks adorable. Like a
puppy.”
Annwyl turned narrowed eyes on her dragon rescuer as he sat by the entrance to this part of his lair. “Quiet, dragon,” she warned playfully. She’d become used to the dragon lingering near her. Teasing her. In fact, she found she started to like it. To like him.
Morfyd examined her wound, already less painful then it was the previous day. “Why do I keep finding you on the floor,” Morfyd asked with a slight mixture of annoyance and humor.
“I keep having this dream about a man. . . .” Remembering they were not alone, Annwyl stopped. She cleared her throat. “Uh . . . it’s nothing though.” Morfyd only glanced at her, then she turned two suddenly angry eyes on the dragon. Annwyl watched as the dragon looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps examining it for cracks.
“So, how long before I can return to my men?”
“Well—” was all Morfyd got out before the dragon cut
her off.
“We need to make sure you’re well first. Wouldn’t want you to get caught in a battle still weak.”
Annwyl shrugged. “That’s fine. I just worry about my men. They need to know I’m alive. I don’t want them to . . .”
“Give up hope?” Morfyd gently asked as she cleaned off the wound and placed another bandage over it.
“Aye. I can’t desert them now.”
“You’re not. And I doubt they will give up hope.” Morfyd straightened up. “But I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you some food.” Morfyd left, punching the dragon in his side as she walked past him. Had the witch gone mad? Did she not see his fangs?
“Tell me, dragon, do you have anything to read?”
“Read?”
“Yes. Does your kind read?”
“Of course we read!”
“Don’t yell.”
The dragon growled at her and she fought her smile.
“Come on then.” He headed off deep into his lair. Annwyl wrapped the fur covering tight around her nak*d body and followed.
* * *
Definitely one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. He really couldn’t believe he was doing it. He turned a corner and led her to the right. He could have just brought her some books. Dropped them right into her lap. Instead he led her here. He led a human to his treasure. What the hell am I thinking?