Dragon Actually (11 page)

“We’re not done.”

She stopped in midstride, annoyed by his tone. Annoyed by him. “We’re not?” She faced him, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“No. I’m still waiting.” He walked toward her, and she felt like a hunted doe in the woods.

“Waiting? For what?”

“For your promise to me.” He stepped in front of her and what little light the two suns poured into the dragon’s heavily wooded glen was completely blocked out by the man’s huge body. She now stood in shadow.

“Promise?”

“Your promise to stay away from Gwenvael.”

Now she really was annoyed. She could care less about Gwenvael. A mischievous little troublemaker that one. But she also understood how brothers could make each other insane. “I do not intend to make such a promise.” She could see his jaw tighten and she had the sudden desire to be wicked.
Very
wicked. “Truth be told, I just can’t stop thinking about the man. Tell me.” She cocked her head to the side as she looked up at the knight’s dark handsome face. “Does he already have a woman?”

“You test me, wench.”

“And you push me. I strongly suggest you not.”

“Or you’ll what?”

She gave him the same smile she gave an enemy soldier in battle. She didn’t practice it, but she knew it when she gave it. Men blanched at this expression. Most ran. All died. Her knight didn’t even flinch.

“Or I’ll make your brother a very happy man. He seems more than willing.”

With a feral growl, he grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. He pulled her close and she felt the intense heat from his body. The anger. And the lust. “You play where you should not, Lady Annwyl.”

She could have backed off. She probably should have. But Annwyl had always been reckless. Foolish. And this man . . . this man brought out something base and primal in her. Something that she couldn’t control.

“Only one man ruled me. Now his bones lay rotting in the ground. And since his death I answer to no man. And especially not to you.”

The knight gave a painful groan, just before his lips slammed against hers. And for Annwyl there would be no going back.

Fearghus wanted to be stronger than this. He wanted to hand her sword to her and begin their daily training session. Instead he ripped her swords from her back and threw them across the glen floor.

Annwyl the Bloody was more dangerous than anyone realized. She took no prisoners whether in love or war. Her response to his kiss was as desperate and demanding as he felt. But he had to remind himself that she was still a virgin. As much as he wanted to find a boulder and bend her over it, he couldn’t. He didn’t want her first experience to be a painful memory that made her wince.

He fought for control, pulled away from her, leaving her gasping, and annoyed.

“Take your clothes off,” he ordered as he stepped away from her. She frowned in confusion. “I’ll rip them off your back if I do it myself. Take them off.”

Annwyl stared at him, her entire body tense. For a moment, he thought she might have changed her mind. Her eyes flickered to the path that led back to the cave. But then she pulled the shirt over her head. Followed by the bindings. She slid the breeches off past her hips and long legs, dropping them in a puddle at her feet. She kicked them as well as her boots aside. She stood before him completely naked. He studied every inch of her. Every scar. Every freckle. She was so beautiful. And his.

“You stare, knight.”

“Yes. I do. You’re beautiful.”

Suddenly she appeared awkward and shy. Her gaze shifted to the ground and it seemed as if she might bolt.

“Has no one told you that before?”

“They have. Usually when they wanted something from my brother or myself. They’ve never meant it.”

And suddenly he saw the woman behind the warrior. A woman who grew up among evil men but still somehow managed to keep her soul. A woman who fought for the freedom of people she didn’t know and who risked her life every day to defend them against her own kin. A woman who easily called a dragon her friend. And whether she knew it or not she belonged to him. His woman. His warrior. His life. He’d do anything to protect her. Anything to keep her.

He reached out and pushed her long hair off her shoulder. Gently he ran his finger down her chest, across her breast, circling the nipple. He watched it harden at his touch. Watched her breath come hard and fast. She smelled of desire and the forest. And soon she would smell of him.

His arm slipped around her waist and he roughly pulled her flat against his body. His mouth captured hers as his hands trailed down her back and bottom. Her strong hands gripped fistfuls of his hair. Her tongue tasted his.

He moved away from her long enough to snatch off his own clothes and weapons, then he had her in his arms again. Fearghus nipped the soft flesh at her neck and heard her give a growl. The sound played across his every nerve, testing the very control of his human body. He lowered her to the soft grass of the glen, settling down beside her.

* * *

Annwyl loved the feel of his body. His hips fit snuglyagainst hers. His hands were rough and large, capable of holding her sizable breasts. His skin hard and smooth. Her fingers reveled in flowing across his body, through his long thick hair.

As he slowly trailed his tongue down her chest, she feared she might come out of her skin. But his hands held on to her, grounding her, as they trailed down her back until they cupped her rear. His tongue slid between her thighs, causing her back to arch. But when his teeth rasped over her clit a feral moan tore from her throat.

Annwyl always believed herself beyond this. That desire would never trap her like the few women she’d known over the years. But now she realized that her body had become a treacherous thing. In battle it responded to her every command. Did things she never believed that it could. Had strength she never knew it possessed.

But now her body completely ignored her. It responded to something else altogether. And until it got what it needed, it would no longer respond to anything she thought or rationalized. It would only respond to her desires. To her needs. And at the moment, that meant her body would only respond to him.

He loved the taste of her. The scent of her. Everything about her brought him to life. Making him more human then he’d ever been before. She panted, her body tight and coiled, afraid of this new feeling. This new sensation she’d never had. But when she tightened her hand in his hair, winding the strands around her fingers, he realized how much he needed her. How much he would risk so that he could have this time with her.

He swirled his tongue slowly around her clit as he slipped a finger inside of her. Her whole body jerked, and he smiled as he licked her over and over while slowly fucking her with his hand. She moaned aloud and he wondered how much more of this he could stand before he could be inside of her. But her body jerked again and the muscles of her sex tightened around his finger. She gasped loudly and gripped his hair tighter as she came, her juices sliding down her thighs.

He licked her clean as the spasms passed and moved slowly up her body, kissing and licking every scar as he went.

His lips reached her mouth and he groaned in surprise to find out how hungry she was for him. Fearghus hadn’t satiated her as much as he made her want more. Her passion increased his.

He settled his hips between her thighs, his erection pushing against her. She panted in his ear, her body shifting beneath his, preparing herself for his shaft, her legs opening wider. Fearghus kissed her along her neck, moving up to her earlobe. He licked the sensitive bit of flesh, and then bit down on it.

She gave out a sharp cry of surprise and that’s when he slammed home, breaching her maidenhead, and filling her completely, his cock buried deep inside her.

She wrapped her arms around him and Fearghus waited until she became used to the size of him, until she became comfortable having him inside her. In moments, she began to kiss his neck and along his jaw. He kissed her again. And while he slowly explored her mouth, he began to thrust into her. He enjoyed the feel of her, the way her body moved beneath his. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt her, so he took his time, keeping his own pleasure at bay until she could have hers.

Then he heard her mutter something against his throat. “What?” he asked softly, and he started at her answer.

“Harder.”

She couldn’t believe she said the word once, much less twice. But she had always been a woman who knew what she wanted. And she needed him to move inside of her harder. She appreciated the time he took, the gentleness of it all, but she was over the hardest part. He had breached her maidenhead in expert fashion and now she wanted to move past that.

He paused. “Did you just say ‘harder?’”

“Yes.” She cringed. “Guess that was rude.” An accusation flung at her more than once.

He licked the hollow of her neck. “Not at all.”

He slammed into her and Annwyl felt every nerve in her body come alive. He pulled out and slammed into her again. She closed her eyes and let the pleasure wash over her.

As he moved inside of her, she ran her hands down his back. When heat spread from her loins and up her spine, she dug her nails into his back as her whole body began to tighten and she lost her breath. When the first spasm tore through her, her nails ripped across his flesh and she screamed out, her body arching against his.

He slammed into her again, his whole body shaking as he released inside of her.

Annwyl leaned her forehead against his neck. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing. His heart beat against her chest as his warm body held her close. Before she knew it, Annwyl was asleep.

He could feel Annwyl’s even breathing against his hot flesh as she fell asleep against him. He smiled as he relaxed them both against the grass. He smoothed her long hair away from her face and stared down at her. No frowns. No worries. It looked as if she were having a dreamless sleep.

He cradled her in his arms and kissed her sweat-covered forehead. He closed his eyes. When they awoke he’d tell her the truth. All of it.

Whether his mad little warlord wanted to hear it or not.

Annwyl awoke to find the shadows deepened and herself naked in the knight’s arms. She turned her head, and their eyes locked. He watched her silently. And she guessed he had been for quite a while.

He started to speak and Annwyl stopped him. “Don’t.” She pulled away from him, picked up her clothes, and walked off. “See you tomorrow.”

See you tomorrow?
Fearghus sat up and watched her walk off. She didn’t even look back at him as she walked and put her clothes on at the same time. She barely acknowledged his existence. She wouldn’t even let him speak.

Fearghus clenched his fists, his rage swarming around him. He needed to hurt something. To destroy something.

Fearghus’s eyes narrowed.
Gwenvael.

He stood up with a growl. He needed to find his brother. He needed to kick the shit out of something and Gwenvael would do quite nicely.

Gwenvael sat in one of the chairs in Annwyl’s room, his feet up on the table. He’d done his task. He’d given Morfyd the message. And she would make sure that Fearghus got it. Now he could play. And he’d bet all his gold that Annwyl could be quite the entertainment. Sweet. Innocent. And his brother was crazy about her.

He didn’t blame him. She was a beautiful girl. Tall. Scarred. A little mean. And he’d always liked that in a female. He loved it when they were mean. But that wasn’t what really interested him. It was the fact that “Don’t bother me” Fearghus had finally fallen. And fallen hard by the looks of it. He thought his brother would rip his guts out when he saw him talking to Annwyl.

Absolutely nothing made his day more fun than when he could drive Fearghus insane. True, Fearghus might be firstborn, but Gwenvael always felt his particular birthright was to torture his siblings. And Fearghus had always been his greatest challenge, therefore his favorite. Mainly because Fearghus was the quintessential dragon. He never moved faster than he had to. He never got upset or seriously angry. He never worried. And he never seemed to care about anything except his privacy and his quiet.

Then the human came along. When he heard that Fearghus rescued a human, Gwenvael had been shocked. When he found out it had been Annwyl the Bloody, notorious sister of The Butcher of Garbhán Isle, he became intrigued. And now that he’d seen his brother desperate with lust . . . well, things just became much more interesting.

Besides, he thought with a growl, I still owe him for my tail.

He heard her coming a league away. The woman stomped like an elephant.

Annwyl stormed into the chamber and stopped as soon as she saw him.

“I was wondering where you’d gone.”

“What do you want, Gwenvael?” She wasn’t in the same mood she’d had been in a few hours before. He fought back the smile. He could smell his brother all over her. It seemed that Fearghus had finally stopped being a prat.

“I just stopped by to see you. Is there anything wrong with that?”

She sighed, heavily, and stomped across the room. She stopped in front of a large wood chest. “Where did this come from?” At his shrug, she smiled. “Fearghus.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear her. Annwyl knelt down and opened it. There were clothes inside, but she ignored them for the dagger that lay on top.

He wondered what dead nobleman’s hand his brother pried that little item from. Gwenvael watched her examine the blade and became bored. Time now to have a little fun.

“So, where’s my brother?”

“I have no idea.” She tested the weight of the blade.

“I hope you’re not . . . well, getting any feelings for him. That would be a mistake.”

“Really? And why is that?” She gripped the handle of the dagger with one hand, while checking the sharpness of its blade with the other.

“I just don’t think he could appreciate a woman like you.”