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.”
He laughed. “Yes, Annwyl. It’s bloody brilliant.” Fearghus leaned in and nuzzled her neck, his fingers brushing her hard n**ples
She giggled as she pushed his face away. “That’s not an answer, Dragon!”
“Oh, you actually want an answer. I thought you already had your mind made up.”
She shrugged, a less-than-innocent smile on her lips. “I do. I was just being polite.”
He stared at her, then shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
He stretched out next to her. His hands behind his head. “I mean no. I don’t think so.”
Annwyl pushed him. “Why not?”
Now he shrugged. “Just don’t feel like it.”
Annwyl crossed her arms in front of that gorgeous chest he’d never stopped thinking about, “Really?”
“Annwyl, I’ve been alone for well over a hundred years. I’m used to being on my own. I think it will take some . . . convincing on your part.”
“Convincing?” She raised an eyebrow. “How much convincing?”
“Well, I am a stubborn dragon. Very stubborn. We’re looking at hours, if not days of convincing . . . or years.” He looked into her green eyes. “Perhaps a lifetime.”
Annwyl stretched out across his chest, her head propped up on one arm. “I guess I best get started then.”
“I guess you better, wench.”
Annwyl kissed him then. And Fearghus never let her go.
CHAINS & FLAMES
G. A. Aiken
Chapter 1
“You demanded my presence, Queen Addiena?”
The queen didn’t even look up from her book. “Is it so hard for you to call me Mother?”
Actually . . . yes it was. “You demanded my presence, Mother?”
Sighing, the queen laid down her book and looked at her oldest daughter. “How I do love that sneer.”
Rhiannon, First Born of the Dragon Queen, First Born Daughter, White Dragonwitch, and heir to the queen’s throne, sat back on her haunches. She brushed her long white hair out of her eyes and stared at her red-haired and red-scaled mother. “Can we just get this over with? I have things to do.”
“Really? Like what?”
Damn. She really didn’t have anything to do; she just didn’t want to be here. Rhiannon and her mother had never gotten along. Never learned to tolerate each other. There was even a story passed among the queen’s court that when freshly hatched, Rhiannon bit her mother on the neck when she tried to cuddle her new daughter. But Rhiannon didn’t believe that for one second. True, she believed she bit her mother, but she didn’t believe her mother had tried to cuddle her.
“What I have to do is my own concern. Can we just speed this along?”
“Fine.” Her mother moved forward a bit and Rhiannon’s entire body tensed at her approach, especially as she watched the queen’s guard follow. “I’ve made a decision.”
Rhiannon’s eyes narrowed. “About?”
“You. It’s time for you to be mated. To be Claimed. And I’ve chosen your mate. One of my finest warriors. Bercelak the Great.”
Snorting a laugh, Rhiannon stared at her mother. “Bercelak the Great? Don’t you mean Bercelak the Vengeful? And that low-born lizard is your choice of mate for me?” She laughed louder, harder. “You have gone mad!”
Her mother’s blue eyes glittered dangerously in the lowlit chamber. “He’s the one I’ve chosen. He’s the one who shall Claim you.”
Rhiannon’s laughter died in the face of her mother’s cold expression. “What? Why?”
When the red dragon only stared at her, Rhiannon exploded. “You callous, deceitful bitch!”
Her mind screamed when she thought of Bercelak the Vengeful. A Battle Lord of her mother’s court, everyone knew Bercelak as dangerous, mean, and generally unpleasant.
In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him smile to anyone . . . except her. And it was only once. Constantly he watched her, ignoring the rules of rank, until finally she told him in all honesty to stop staring at her like a horse cooking on a spit or she’d rip the horns from his head. He’d only smiled at her. For the first and only time, he’d smiled. When she’d threatened him. She did not take that as a good sign.
At the time, she’d feared she’d have to protect herself from a forced Claiming. They were rare, but they happened. Then the Dragon Wars began. A battle of dragon against dragon in pursuit of power. As her mother’s champion, Bercelak led that war and she hadn’t seen him since.
But the wars were over, her mother’s reign secure. And apparently, as reward for his loyal service, her mother planned to hand Bercelak her.
“I’ve made up my mind. We’ll have a ceremony at the next moon to celebrate your union. You will attend. You will look beautiful. And you will let him have you.”
“I know why you’re doing this. I know what you’re up to.” She hated the desperation in her voice. She hated her mother.
When the queen only stared at her, Rhiannon continued. “You fear I’ll take your throne before you’re ready to give it up. You’re afraid if I mate with someone not loyal to you, I can have it all . . . and you’ll have nothing. So you hand me over to that piece of trash!”
“Why, Rhiannon. That’s a horrible thing for you to believe about your loving mother.”
She said it so flippantly that Rhiannon knew she’d been right. Her mother feared her. Feared the loyalty she’d built up among the other dragons and in court. She feared her Magick skills, still weak, but growing excessively—and surprisingly—strong.
Her mother feared her. And for that the bitch was willing to hand Rhiannon off like a human slave.
Rage blinding her, Rhiannon lashed out at her mother with one of her claws, but her damn guards, who protected the queen’s life as if it were their very own, were there before her forearm barely left her side. They shoved her back. Her! A princess!
“You’ll not do this to me, you old whore!” she screamed, unable to control herself any longer. The hurt and pain eating away at her like a parasite. “I’ll take your throne . . . I’ll take your power and your treasure! And I’ll leave you to rot!”
Cold, crystal blue eyes stared at her and she knew she’d never find mercy there. Never. “You’ll regret this, little bitch.”
“Go to hell.”
Rhiannon took several steps back until she stood a good distance from her mother and those insane guards of hers. Then she turned and stormed off.
She’d regret nothing. But she would make sure her
mother regretted everything.
Bercelak the Great, Dragonwarrior of the Dragon Queen Throne, Ninth Born Son of Ailean the Slag, Ruling Commander of the Dragon Queen’s Armies, and on and on and on, marched through the place he’d grown up in. Unlike most dragons, his first home had not been a cave . . . but a castle.
He stalked through the halls, nodding in greeting to his many siblings as he passed. Including himself, there were fifteen of them. Some mated. Some not. Some already with their own offspring. Before entering his father’s home, he had to shift to human and put on human garb. His father, Ailean, insisted on it. For reasons unknown to any of them, their father loved being human. Not for part of the time, like some of his kin and, at times, even himself. But all the time. He only turned back to dragon to fight or to fly somewhere quickly.