Her head fell back against his chest, and he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue, inside his mouth. He stroked his c*ck inside her, his eyes nearly crossing at the way she clenched her muscles each time he pulled out, taking all of him with a smile and a groan when he slammed back in.
She caught hold of one of the hands he had gripping her waist, lowering it until his fingers were on her p**sy, his forefinger teasing her clit.
He loved how she showed him what she wanted, took what she needed.
His thrusts became more brutal, his teeth nipping at the side of her neck. He matched the tempo of his c*ck with that of the finger on her clit.
Her hands clutched his, the nails digging into his skin.
He gave her what she wanted. He gave her everything, pounding into her until she screamed his name and he whispered hers. He emptied his seed inside her, and nothing had ever felt more amazing to him before—and he’d moved a mountain once.
Still on their knees, both of them gasping, sweating, clinging to each other, they said nothing. There was nothing to say. But when she gave him that kiss on the cheek, the sweetest kiss he’d ever known, he knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d found a way to keep Princess Keita forever.
“She met with them near one of the empty guard houses.”
“Did you hear what was said?”
“No. That Northlander was lurking about, and we didn’t want to be seen.”
“He was following her?”
Her lieutenant sneered. “I wouldn’t worry. When she was done betraying her mother, she f**ked that Lightning like a well-paid barmaid.”
“There’s not much difference between the two.”
“Do you want us to pick up Gillivray and Lailoken tonight?”
“No.” She walked around the dragon. “First we deal with Her Majesty. Then we deal with those two.”
“Are you sure about this?” her lieutenant asked. “Her mother is the queen.”
“And she’s a traitor. News about her and Esyld is spreading through the town like flame on dry wood. We need to make an example of her now before it’s too late. Nothing else matters.” The lieutenant nodded, but before walking off he said, “By the way…
that’s a nice eye patch.”
It crossed Elestren’s mind to tear both the bastard’s eyes out, but she’d wait to unleash all that rage on Keita the Traitor, Giver of Ridiculous Eye Patches.
Chapter Thirty
Ragnar woke up when he heard the snuffling. He smiled. “Good morn to you.”
The mare brushed her muzzle against his head, giving him her blessing, before she lazily moved on to the next bit of grass nearby.
Although Ragnar had woken up like this before, surrounded by mares and their yearlings, he’d never managed to wake up like this with a dragoness by his side. But this time was different. This was Keita, and she had her own entourage—all of them stallions. And all of them watching Ragnar closely.
Eventually Keita stirred on her own, brown eyes slowly opening, arms stretching wide.
“And good morn to you too.” He kissed her forehead, felt her hand stroke his cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Aye. My rage has turned to cold determination.”
“Then the world should quake in fear.”
“Sarcasm so early in the morning?”
He brushed her hair from her face. “That wasn’t sarcasm. It was honesty. I’ll admit I misread you in the beginning, Keita, but I’ll not make that mistake again.”
Her hand slid around to the back of his neck. “And I thought I’d be so bored with you by now.”
“I’m so glad I was able to disappoint you on that.”
“So am I,” she whispered, pulling herself up, her lips mere millimeters from his. Ragnar closed his eyes, waited for that kiss. When it didn’t happen, he opened his eyes and realized she was staring off at the horses.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.” She looked at him, blinked. “I’m such an idiot.”
“What?”
“We all are!” She scrambled away from him, quickly grabbing up her gown and yanking it over her head.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’ll catch up with you later!” she yelled at him, already running toward the castle, the stallions watching her go while the mares pushed their yearlings out of the way.
He stood, his c*ck hard and already dripping. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this!”
“Use your hand!” she said before she disappeared over a small hill.
“Exactly where are you taking us?”
“Oh, shut up,” Keita ordered her sister, tired of her asking the same damn question over and over. Rousing the females out of bed and away from their mates had been a task of its own—except for Dagmar, who’d already been up and “plotting” as Gwenvael put it, which was true enough since rumors about Keita and Esyld had already begun to spread—but getting them to follow her several miles into the forest on the other side of the eastern fields took all her cajoling skills.
Keita felt a hand swipe at her hair, and she spun around, her own hands open and slapping at her sister until Annwyl reached between them and shoved them apart.
“Give it a rest!” she barked. “You two are worse than the twins.” Keita tugged her dress back into place. “This won’t take long. I promise.” Then she added with a little snarl, “I’m trying to help!”
“Then help,” Talaith said. “We’re right behind you.” Wanting to be done with this, Keita ignored her sister and continued on. When she reached a high ridge that looked over the Deep Canyons, she stopped.
“What are we looking at?” Talaith asked.
From out of the line of trees on the low plain surrounding the canyons, wild horses raced forth. They were all beautiful and free, tearing across the countryside, unencumbered by being beasts of burden for men or dinner for dragons.
“Horses?” Annwyl scratched her head. “I have a horse.”
“Wait,” Morfyd said, stepping next to Keita, “this won’t work.”
“Have you even tried, Princess Doubt?”
“Only Mother can summon them, and she told me she wouldn’t.”
“Why do you wait for her?”
“She’s our mother and queen of these lands. Should I go against her?”
“Have you not learned it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?”
“That’s how you and Gwenvael survive. I can’t live like that. Besides, if you summon them and you piss them off, Keita, they’ll tear these humans to bits.”
“On that note…” Dagmar turned to leave, but Keita caught her arm.
“Leave it to me.”
Keita released Dagmar and stepped to the very top of the ridge. She’d hoped she could get Morfyd to do this. As heir to their mother’s Magickal power if not her throne, she would most likely have an easier time of it. But Keita had learned a long time ago to wait for no one, especially her easily frightened sister.
Breathing in a huge amount of air, Keita threw her head back and opened her mouth. A line of flame exploded out of her and charred the tops of some trees, fire filling the sky above. When she felt her point had been made, Keita cut off the flame and returned her gaze to the horses. And, from amidst the shiny and moving horseflesh, they appeared, splitting off from the herd they ran with and charging toward the five females.
“Holy—” Annwyl began.
“—shit,” Talaith finished.
“Let me speak.” Keita moved them all back from the ridge and decided more specific directions were needed. “Actually, Talaith, feel free to connect with them as witch. Morfyd, if you won’t help, at least don’t complain. Dagmar, if you feel you can help, please do. Annwyl…say nothing.”
“How come I don’t—”
“Nothing.”
“But I’m—”
“Absolutely nothing!” Keita snarled. When Annwyl pouted but no longer argued, Keita looked back at those who raced toward them. The centaurs. One of the few beings dragons showed only respect to and never dreamed of hunting for food or amusement. They came over the ridge and drew to a restless halt about twenty feet away.
Keita gave a small bow of her head. “My ladies. My lords.”
“You are dragon, but you are not the queen,” a male told her. “And you dare summon us?”
“Told you,” Morfyd whispered.
“Shut up!” Keita snapped back
“Perhaps you were not warned that we are not to be fooled with, lizard,” the centaur continued.
“My gracious lord, please,” Keita said, ignoring the insult. “If you’d only give me a minute to explain—”
“Keita?” An older female moved out of the small herd and walked up to the group, hooves lightly tapping the ground as she moved. “By the gods…it is you.”
“Bríghid?” Keita grinned, relief flooding through her. “Oh, Bríghid!” The female opened her arms and leaned down a bit, allowing Keita to run right into them.
“I don’t believe it,” Bríghid said, stroking Keita’s hair and kissing her forehead. “Look how you’ve grown.”
“The last we heard about you,” Keita said, “you’d moved down to the Alsandair borders.”
“I gave my heart to the wrong centaur, so I returned to my herd.” She pushed Keita back and took her face in her hands. “Gods, Keita. You’re actually more beautiful. How is that possible?”
“Excellent bloodline.”
Bríghid laughed. “That’s my Keita.” She looked at the group again.
“Morfyd?”
“Hello, Bríghid.”
Bríghid held her hand out for Morfyd, and Keita’s sister took it. The pair embraced before Bríghid said, “My girls. How beautiful you both are.” She kissed them both on the top of their heads. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about both of you. I’ve always been so proud.” Keita, knowing it would annoy her sister, added a smirk to highlight Bríghid’s words. Morfyd bared a fang, and instantly Bríghid grew tense.
“Still fighting?” And the warning was in her voice. As it had always been.
“No, ma’am,” they immediately said.
“Good. Now.” Bríghid stepped back, studied them both. “Neither of you are your mother, nor have you replaced her on the throne. So what has you risking my annoyance and the annoyance of my herd?” Since Bríghid’s “annoyance” was often more vicious than her rage, Keita quickly explained, “You know I would not have risked this beautiful hide of mine had I not desperately needed your assistance.”
“You?” Bríghid asked. “Or her?”
When Bríghid’s gaze locked on Annwyl, the queen’s hand immediately moved to her sword, but Dagmar slapped Annwyl’s hand away, eliciting a whined “Ow!” from the brave, deadly queen.