“I wish you’d let us help you, Talaith.” He gently pushed her curly hair off her face. “At least let Briec.” Briec would do anything for her, except neither of them had realized it yet.
“No one can help me, Éibhear. I’ve learned that all too well, my friend.”
Somehow she pushed herself to her feet, the bottle still gripped in one hand and pressed to her chest. “I’m going to stagger to my room now.”
“Talaith—”
“No. No. I’ll be fine.” She took several awkward steps, then stopped. “You. I knew you’d be lurking.”
Éibhear turned to see Briec leaning against the entrance wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His human form looked casual enough, but Éibhear sensed his brother’s concern. Briec would never admit it, but he cared about this lovely but strange woman who couldn’t hold her drink.
“Come, Talaith. Let me take you to bed,” Briec offered.
“I can manage well enough on my own, serpent.” She walked toward him. “So just keep your claws off me.” She hiccupped once and pitched forward. Briec caught hold of her before she landed face first in the dirt.
“Briec?”
“Don’t worry, Éibhear. I’ll take care of her.” Briec lifted the unconscious woman up in his arms. “Thanks for finding her before she drowned herself.”
Éibhear waited until he was sure Briec was out of hearing range, then turned to Gwenvael. “You’re right, you know?”
“About?”
“She is going to make his life hell.”
Gwenvael grinned, his wound seemingly forgotten. “I know.”
* * *
Briec laid his drunken human down on the bed, finally prying the bottle of Fire Wine from her grasp. Even he didn’t drink his father’s homemade wine, but he had used it to clean rust off old armor.
He brushed Talaith’s hair off her face and her brown eyes fluttered open. “Oh. It’s you.”
Did she have to sound so disappointed? “Aye. It’s me.”
“Come to take advantage of me in my inebriated state?”
“I try not to do that. Nothing worse than the morning-after sobbing.”
She laughed while struggling to sit up. “I don’t understand you, dragon.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Sometimes you can be so nice, and I can almost forget how annoying you are. And then you open your mouth, and I remember exactly how annoying you are.”
She finally found a way to sit up and, for a brief moment, he expected her to pitch forward again, but she managed to keep her seat. He watched her struggle with the ribbon tying her bodice together, which she managed to get completely knotted up.
Sighing, he kneeled in front of her and pushed her hands away. “At this rate, you’ll be sober before you get your dress off.”
He worked at untying the knots she created, but he could feel her eyes on him. Her words still startled him, though. “I like you on your knees, dragon.”
Briec dug in and decided not to look at her, instead concentrating on the knots before him.
“I don’t think you’re necessarily better looking on your knees,” she continued, “but I find you almost charming there.”
“Talaith, I need you to stop talking now.”
“Why? Am I shocking you?”
No. She wasn’t shocking him. But she was making him hard. From this position, he could do all sorts of things to her and with her. But he wasn’t about to take advantage of her while she was flying high on his father’s homemade liquor. He liked his women sober and willing. Not passing out in the middle of it or, even worse, throwing up on him. Besides, hadn’t she done enough of that already?
“Don’t you want to f**k me, dragon?”
He dropped his head on her still-clothed chest. “Where did a nice witch like you learn words like that?”
“Did you forget? Peasant village. I know all sorts of words after living with those people. Want me to list them?”
“No!” He cleared his throat. “No,” he said more calmly. “Just stay quiet…or pass out. Anything that will stop you from talking.”
She stopped speaking.
Then she started again. “Does your dragon c*ck have scales?”
“That’s it.” He took firm hold of her bodice and ripped it in half. He pulled the dress down, practically flipping her off the bed in his desperation to get it off her. Once done, he tossed the ruined dress into the pitfire.
“Look!” She stood on the bed, arms over her head. “I’m nak*d!”
He grabbed Talaith to him—ignoring how good her warm flesh felt against his—and lifted her up off her feet with one arm. With the other, he dragged the fur covers back and dropped her onto the bed. He covered up her luscious body as quickly as he could manage.
“Go to sleep, woman.”
He turned and walked several steps away. Stopped. Turned. And walked returned to her. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Big bastard,” she giggled.
“Annoying harpie,” he growled back. Then he leaned down and kissed her mouth hard. She moaned and her hands dug into his hair, clinging to him.
Unfortunately, he had to stop. He had to. Or he’d be inside her in seconds.
“I want you sleeping in the next two minutes,” he ordered.
“Or what?”
He bared fangs, two long ones in the front. He hated doing it, mostly because they tore up his lip due to their size. But the crazy witch made him absolutely insane.
She shrunk away from him. “All right. All right. No need to get mean.”
Moving toward the exit as fast as the erection pushing against his breeches would allow, he said, “Sadly, little witch, you seem to understand nothing else.”
But by then, he could already hear her light snoring.
Chapter Eight
For three straight days, the storms raged. Ice-cold rain beating down, brutal winds blowing, plus powerful lightning ensured Talaith wouldn’t leave the dragon’s cave.
And after her first thwarted escape and drunken escapade—did I really stand on the bed and say “I’m nak*d”?—Briec wouldn’t let her out of his sight. So for three solid days she’d been stuck with him and his kin. Although, she did have to admit it had definitely been an interesting three days trapped in a cave with three related dragons who seemed hell-bent on torturing each other.
She thought for sure Gwenvael would never forgive her for what she did to him. But he healed fast enough and didn’t seem to care, especially when irritating the living hell out of his brother clearly took precedence.
As soon as he realized merely being close to Talaith annoyed Briec, the gold dragon went out of his way to not only forgive Talaith, but to show her as much affection as he could manage.
It seemed Gwenvael enjoyed lounging around or on her. Of course, all this closeness only seemed to happen when Briec was in the vicinity. Gwenvael would stretch out beside her, sometimes human and sometimes dragon. As human, Gwenvael would lay his handsome head in her lap, ignoring the fact she would be in the middle of reading something. As dragon, he’d lay his snout. Either way, when Briec found him it always turned ugly. She’d gotten to the point that as long as stones didn’t drop from the ceiling onto her head, she didn’t worry.
As for Éibhear, he couldn’t seem to do enough for her. He made sure she ate well, had warm clothes, clean bedding, and books to read. He had to be the kindest being she’d ever known. Plus, very funny and very smart. She’d begun to call him Éibhear the Diplomat. He was the only one who could calm his brothers when they went into one of their arguments. He seemed to like everything and everyone peaceful.
Still, he did have his occasional mood changes, but he never directed those her way. His brothers received the brunt and they didn’t seem to notice. Gwenvael finally told her that, among his kind, Éibhear was young. “Not yet a hundred,” Gwenvael would tease, knowing to a human—even a Nolwenn witch with their long lives—that sounded strange. In a few more years Éibhear would finally grow into his true dragon self. She already mourned the loss of the sweet, endearing bear of a dragon who loved to make her laugh.
And then there was Briec.
After her little escape attempt and their kiss, he circled around her like a bird of prey. If his brothers got too close, he was there to move them. If she got lost in the enormous caverns and tunnels of Gwenvael’s home—which, unfortunately, happened more than once—he’d find her and lead her back.
When he wasn’t doing all that, he was looking for an argument. He absolutely loved irritating the hell out of her. He made sure to do it often, it seemed. Of course it didn’t help that when he would start the fights, not only would she jump in with much enthusiasm, but the arguments invariably made her want him. Desperately. They both knew it, too. The way he’d stare at her. The way his nostrils would flare seconds before he’d say something else to aggravate her more, proved to her he knew exactly what he was doing.
Yet, she knew deep in her soul, all this did was kill time. Time until he could get her truly alone. Away from his meddling brothers. Talaith, however, lived in fear of that day. She didn’t fear Briec. Not anymore. But she did fear her feelings for him. She’d been so young when she’d met her first and, up to this point, only love. A young, tall warrior with light brown eyes who treated her like a princess. They’d given each other everything, to her mother’s great annoyance. But he’d died in battle and that’s when her entire world changed.
But he’d been a mere boy. Barely ten and eight. Briec, however, was in no way young or inexperienced. Plus the fact he wasn’t human still bothered her…a lot. Many would consider a mating between the two an abomination. Actually, Talaith would have felt that way, too—before she met Briec.
Now she dreamed every night about the big bastard. And in every dream they argued. Which normally wouldn’t worry her. What worried her was waking up a sweating mess with her sex wet and her hand between her legs. Even in the darkness of the cave, she knew Briec watched her. He watched her moan and writhe on the bed and not once did he touch her. Although she sensed he wanted to…very much. She had to admit, she admired his strength of will. Most men she’d known wouldn’t wait for her. Ones not remotely as powerful as Briec would have taken what they wanted from her whether she agreed or not.
He didn’t. Which just made her like him more. And she hated him for it.
Finally, though, the rains and lightning stopped. At least temporarily since the clouds still hovered near. After much begging—and arguing—Briec finally agreed to take her down to the closest village. But she had to promise she wouldn’t do anything “annoyingly stupid” like yell for help. She grudgingly promised, because Arzhela still had not called to her. Once that call came, she would do what she had to, even break her promise to the dragon.
The town near Gwenvael’s cave—where every local woman seemed to know or know of the three brothers—boasted a sizable market, and there were many items she would have liked to purchase if she had any coin. But she wouldn’t ask the dragon for any money. Not in this lifetime.