“Exactly. But see,” Meinhard continued, “we’re not the ones gettin’ in your way. You’re gettin’ in your way. You’re bloody over-thinking it.”
“Like you do with everything,” Vigholf agreed.
Ragnar’s jaw clenched. “I do not over-think anything.”
“You do, you are, and you’re letting her get away,” Meinhard argued.
“And you’re that sure she just has to have me?” When the cousins went out of their way not to look at each other, Ragnar quickly pointed a talon. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’re telling you,” Vigholf bit out between clenched fangs, “that if you want her, you can get her.”
“And how would you know that? And don’t lie to me.”
“The Blue was a little concerned about, uh…what were those words he used, Meinhard?”
“Uh…inter-territorial relations. I think.”
“What about them?”
“He didn’t want his sister damaging them.”
“And how would she do that?”
“Well, the lad says there may be a little”—Meinhard raised his front claw, wiggled his talons—“wager going on between the princess and that foreign friend of hers.”
“Apparently that’s something the two of them do when they’re bored,” Vigholf said.
“Wager? What kind of wager?”
“To see whether she could get you into bed or not,” Meinhard answered.
Vigholf shook his head at the expression on his brother’s face. “And look at ya. Pissed off. Over this.”
“Of course, I’m pissed off over this!”
“Why?” Meinhard asked. “You’ve got yourself a She-dragon of royal blood, laid out on a slab for you to fuck, and you’re pissed? Is there something wrong with you?”
“They’re wagering on my cock!” Ragnar exploded, front claws going high in the air as if he didn’t understand his kin at all. And he didn’t. As they didn’t understand him. Not when it came to this sort of thing.
“So? I’d let that dragoness wager on my c*ck daily.”
“If it were me,” Vigholf said, three talons clicking together to drive home his point, “I’d let her win that wager. I’d let her win it over and over and over again. Until neither of us could move or possibly breathe. That’s what I’d do.”
“Because you’re both bloody worthless! ” Ragnar roared and marched off into the trees.
Meinhard glanced at Vigholf and asked, “Did he just yell at us?”
“I think he did. Several times.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell about anything.”
“Good point.” Meinhard scratched his head. “But still, the loss of all those tightly controlled emotions…”
“It’s like I said.” And Vigholf yelled the rest at Ragnar’s retreating tail, “He’s bloody gagging for it!”
Meinhard only had a chance for a short laugh before he was dodging that boulder his own blood had chucked at his and Vigholf’s heads.
To Keita’s eternal surprise, the warlord didn’t complain at all when she and Ren eventually returned from the city. They’d taken their time walking back, planning out how they’d handle the next step in their search for Esyld. Yet the warlord said nothing. Nor did his brother or cousin. And, of course, all Éibhear cared about were the new books she’d brought with her from Gorlas’s store.
“Aw, Keita. You’re the best!” Éibhear said, grinning at her.
“Sorry about coming back so late,” Keita sweetly offered while removing her fur cape and silk gown so she could shift.
“Not a problem,” Ragnar grumbled back, shocking her.
“What?” Keita was sure she’d heard incorrectly.
“I said not a problem. We’ve already camped for the night.” Then he walked off, leaving her standing there, utterly confused. So Keita grabbed Ren’s hair and yanked him close.
“Ow!”
“What’s he up to?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing. And unleash me, female!” She did. “What do you mean ‘probably nothing’?”
“Probably nothing.”
Now her eyes had narrowed on Ren. “What do you know?”
“In what sense?”
“In…what? Don’t toy with me, Ren of the Chosen.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
He moved her farther away from the group. “He followed us into town this afternoon.”
“He did what?”
“Don’t worry. There was nothing for him to see, and if he asks, you were in a nice, clean, boring bookstore and I was getting that necklace evaluated.”
“But how dare he follow me?”
“Let it go, Keita.”
“Like one of the hells, I will.” And with that Keita followed Ragnar out to the nearby lake.
He sat on his haunches by the water’s edge, gazing across the placid surface. But he wasn’t alone.
She stood just behind him for rather a long time before his entire body tensed.
“Sneaking up on me, princess?” he asked.
“Didn’t realize I had,” she lied. As her mother had pointed out on more than one occasion when startled by Keita, “sneaky as a snake, that one.”
Keita moved up alongside him. “Are you aware there’s a black bird on your head?” she asked.
He turned his gaze to her.
“Yes,” he replied. “A crow. And I’m aware.”
“Did it mistake you for a statue?”
“No.”
She watched both dragon and bird a bit longer before asking, “Are you going to leave him up there?”
“He’s not causing me any bother.”
“But you have a bird on your head.”
“Yes. We’ve established this. Although I don’t know why that surprises you so. You seem to have your own entourage.” When Keita frowned, he motioned behind her. Keita glanced at what nuzzled her tail. “Oh. Them.”
“Yes. Them. Do packs of wolves often follow you around?”
“Just the males.”
“Pardon?”
She smiled. “What can I say? Males love me. Every breed, every species. It’s not my fault. I do nothing to lure them, but they come anyway.” Shaking his head a little, Ragnar coldly replied, “I see.” When he said nothing else, Keita thought about pushing for more information but decided against it. She didn’t like the warlord’s mood. It made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like to feel uncomfortable. “Éibhear says dinner will be soon,” she offered, turning away from him to head back to camp.
“Tell me something, princess.”
Keita stopped.
“What were you doing in the Northlands when my father found you?”
The question threw Keita off because she hadn’t been expecting it.
Two years ago she’d expected it, but not now. Not here. And what in all the hells did that have to do with him following her into Fenella?
Keita smiled, tossing her hair off her face. “Just being rebellious. You know how mothers and daughters can be.”
“There are too few daughters in the north for parents to afford alienating them, but I have some idea. Still,” he went on when she took another step away, “it was a risk. Wasn’t it? Being in enemy territory?” This dragon was digging, and Keita was in no mood to give him what he wanted. So she did what she always did best when she wanted to throw someone off….
She became sneaky as a snake.
Ragnar didn’t know what appalled him more at the moment. That a royal would involve herself with spies—most likely out of pure boredom—or that she’d been wagering on his cock? Perhaps he was appalled by both.
What kind of royal spent her time trying to seduce males for sport when she wasn’t visiting spy guilds in nearby cities? One not worthy of the loyalty and lust she seemed to have earned from Ragnar’s idiot brother and idiot cousin.
Keita’s claw slid across Ragnar’s chest, the talons scraping against his scales. Startled, Ragnar jumped a little, his bird visitor flitting off to the trees. Leaving Ragnar alone—with her.
“Princess—”
She brushed her head under his chin and nuzzled his neck. “What is it you want from me, Lord Ragnar?” she asked, her voice husky. “You ask so many questions, but I don’t know what you want. Or perhaps I’m merely being difficult. Perhaps I want you to drag the information from me.” She went up on the tips of her back talons, her snout brushing against his throat, her voice whispering in his ear. “Perhaps it would be better for both of us if you’d tie me up—and make me give you the answers. Or chains,” she purred, a little breathless. “Imagine what we could do with a few hours alone and chains.”
Ragnar had her by the shoulders, was already pulling her to his body, when he realized exactly what he was doing. What she’d gotten him to do.
With some gods-damn nuzzling and the mere mention of chains!
Viper!
Ragnar shoved her away, and instead of being angry, she laughed. Her façade of sexual abandon slipping away to show the hardened dragoness beneath. “What’s wrong, warlord? Are chains not the way to go with you?
Do you like the coquettish ingénue more? Or the struggling virgin who keeps saying ‘no, no, no’ but really means ‘yes, yes, yes!’?” Her laughter rang out across the lake.
“What I like, princess—”
“No, no. Don’t tell me. I’ll bet you like the whole regal majesty thing, yes? Tail up, head down, ready to take one for the future survival of one’s bloodline?”
She was irritating him, and he needed to leave. “As a matter of—”
“That seemed to be,” she cut in, her tail picking up a stone and tossing it into the lake, “what your father favored.” She sat back on her haunches and raised her front claws. “Not that I’d know personally. But is that it?” she asked. “Is that what you like?” She smirked, brown eyes sizing him up, purposely going for his weakest spot. “Are we having a ‘like father like son’
moment?”
And that’s when something inside Ragnar broke. Even though he knew on some level she was merely taunting him to distract him from the questions he’d been asking, he could not hold his anger at bay. Not over this insult.
“No, princess,” he replied, his voice low. “What I like, what I’ve always liked, is someone with the ability to think, to reason, to have a life that those in the future will consider meaningful. Don’t get me wrong. I have no problems taking a working whore to bed, because I appreciate any female who understands business and the use of coin. But a vapid virgin with nothing in her head is as bad as a vapid slag with nothing in her head.
Because when the f**king ends, and all you’re left with is each other, then what do you do?” He gave a small shrug. “I guess what you do is leave. You know, before some male looks too close—and sees absolutely nothing.” He expected talons to claw across his face. They didn’t.