What a Dragon Should Know (53 page)

Briec continued to travel up her thighs, but when her hands grabbed his, he let her have control, wanting to see what she’d do.

Talaith drew his hands up farther, close to her sex. But she didn’t stop there, she kept moving until she reached her stomach. She pressed his hands against her belly, sighing contentedly when he smoothed his fingers across it.

He adored how soft her skin was. How her entire body reacted to his merest touch. How … how …

Gods.

Briec pulled away from Talaith’s neck and looked down at her. Her smile was soft and content, her eyes dreamy.

It had been years since Briec had studied the ways of a Dragonmage, but he still had some skills. And that’s why she’d told him like this, knowing he’d understand without her having to say a word.

Emotions he’d never felt before ripped through him, making him feel slightly drunk and extremely panicked. He knew there were all sorts of things a dragon would say to a dragoness at a time like this, but Talaith was no dragoness. And that’s what worried him.

“I can’t lose you,” he said simply.

Her brown gaze turned to him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“What Annwyl went through. If Eirianwen hadn’t stepped in, brought her back, Fearghus would have lost her. I can’t lose you. I won’t. You mean everything to me, Talaith.”

“Sssh.” She turned in his arms, rising up on her knees, her hands framing his face. “It’ll be all right.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know. This isn’t Rhydderch Hael using my body for his experiments as he did with Annwyl. This is different. I’m different. I have strength Annwyl doesn’t have. Powers that will protect me, and are already moving into place to protect the child. Our child.”

“Are you sure? I won’t allow myself to be miserable, Lady Difficult.”

“Because it’s all about you, Lord Arrogant.” Her grin was wide and bright. She wanted this child. “Trust me. I’ll not say I won’t be as happy or as miserable as any other woman full with child, but what happened to Annwyl won’t happen to me. The hard part is over now. The walls have been broken, gods of every type and pantheon roam through the worlds freely, and what was once unthinkable … will one day be quite common.”

“I don’t care about one day. I care about you.”

“I know.” She kissed him, her mouth soft against his. “Your love and faith in me is why I know I’ll be fine. That we’ll be fine.”

“And what of Izzy?”

“We tell her nothing.”

He pulled back, startled. “Talaith.”

“You know what she’ll do if we tell her.” Yes. Briec knew. He knew his daughter would change her plans to leave with the Eighteenth Legion because she’d fear leaving her mother’s side. She’d want to be here for Talaith, even if it meant giving up what she wanted. “I won’t have that hanging over my head, Briec, or have her resent me because of it. She’ll learn about all this soon enough, just not yet.”

“If you’re sure.”

She sighed, frustrated, and leaned back. “Must you question me?” she suddenly barked, irrationally annoyed in his opinion.

“I’ll question you if I want! And is this how it’s going to be from now until you are blessed with having
my
offspring? One moody-cow moment after another?”

“Oh, trust well, Lord Arrogant, that I plan on making your life a living hell.”

“Who says you don’t already?”

“I haven’t even begun!”

“Uncaring wench!”

Difficult bastard!“

Then they were kissing, their mouths fused, their tongues teasing and stroking while they ripped each other’s clothes off.

And that’s how Briec knew Talaith spoke true—everything would be just fine.

* * *

Dagmar slammed a small jar of ointment on the desk and bent over it, giving Gwenvael complete access to her ass.

“Get to work,” she ordered.

“I’ll need a basin and cloth. Don’t forget my lecture on hygiene.”

“That is
not
what this is for, you disgusting bastard. It still hurts.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not. Especially when I saw Fal sniffing around you yet again.”

“Fal’s a boy. I’d never be interested in him.”

“So me, Briec, and Fearghus didn’t need to throw him off the top of the building?”

Dagmar straightened. “You did what?”

“He’s unclear on boundaries. And don’t look at me like that. He’s still alive.”

Dismissing it all with a wave, she walked to the bed and removed her dress and her shift. She lay across the bedding, face down. And, like the royal she was, Dagmar waited for him to do as she bid.

Taking her foot, Gwenvael slowly rolled her over onto her back. She winced and glared. “What are you doing?”

He carefully bent her legs back until they touched her chest. “I bet if you don’t move it doesn’t hurt.”

“So?”

Gwenvael pushed her bent legs apart and settled in between, his face by her pussy. “Guess you better not move then.”

Panting, she shook her head. “Don’t.”

“Too late. I have to have you. Have to taste you. But you have to keep still. No squirming, writhing, or anything else.”

He licked his lips. “No matter what I do to this sweet little pussy—don’t move.”

Her hands gripped the bedding. “You’re a bastard.”

“And you love me for it, don’t you?”

“Reason help me, but I do.”

Gwenvael smiled, happier than he’d ever been before. “And I love you, Beast. Now, remember,” he teased, enjoying how she couldn’t help but squirm anyway, “don’t move.”

Keita the Viper walked past the rows of fighting, training dragons and into the heart of Anubail Mountain, the underground fortress of the warrior dragons. It was here that the greatest Dragonwarriors of the Southland were born. Royal or low born, it didn’t matter once you crossed the threshold and dared to enter.

As she passed, all stopped to watch her. She recognized a few of the males, but none had left an indelible mark in her life. None had been unforgettable.

She walked into the main cavern. The dragon she’d come to see stood in the middle of a rune-covered circle made of refined steel and trained hard with a long staff. Ignoring those who stared at her, Keita moved into that training circle and went down on one knee, her head bowed.

The staff swung over her head, missing her by less than an inch. Even as she felt it go by, she didn’t move, she didn’t cringe—she simply waited.

The staff slammed into the floor and one long talon tapped patiently. Still, Keita didn’t move.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t her mighty ladyship. The Princess Keita herself. And what are you doin’ here, little princess?”

Keita went back on her haunches, her front claws planted firmly on the floor. “I need your help, Elestren.”

“My help?” the low-born female asked. “For what?”

“To teach me to fight. To kill.”

“We all know how to kill, little princess. It’s in our blood.”

“I want to learn to fight like you. To be able to take on any dragon that challenges me, whether I’m in this form or my human one.”

Elestren began laughing.
“You?”
She laughed harder. “The pretty little princess wants to learn to fight like me?” She stepped closer. “You want scars like mine, too? They don’t go away, you know? Once the cuts go past the scales, they’re permanent. Even on your human form. Sure you want them? You with your male pets and pretty gowns? Sure that’s what you want?”

What she wanted was to never feel as weak and helpless as she had with that barbarian, Ragnar. He’d used her in his games and she’d never forgive that, nor would she ever let it happen again with him or anyone else. She was no mere prize to be won or lost, no bargaining chip to be used against her bitch mother. She was Keita the Viper—and she’d do whatever necessary to make sure she truly deserved that name.

Keita looked the warrior in the eyes. “It’s what I want.”

Elestren regarded her closely and nodded. “I believe it is.” The dark green dragoness walked over to the altar against the far wall. “When we fly into battle, we call on the war goddess Eirianwen. You want to stay here and train with me, whether you fight with our armies or not, you’ll dedicate your life to her, just as I’ve done.”

Keita strode to the altar without hesitation and took the dagger handed to her. Holding her claw over the thick marble, she slid the blade across her palm. Her blood mingled with the thousands of Dragonwarriors who had come before her, including her father.

“I dedicate my life and the lives of those I kill to the mighty Eirianwen,” she intoned solemnly.

Elestren took her dagger back. “I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping—alone, if you have any sense—and tomorrow we’ll begin.”

Keita turned to the dragoness. “Thank you, cousin.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Elestren eyed her coldly. “I’m going to enjoy making you bleed, little princess.”

Watching her cousin walk away, Keita asked, “Is this still about when I called you fat ass? Isn’t it time you got over that?”

And when Keita ducked the long staff that flew at her head, she knew she’d at least proven her reflexes were quick.

Izzy made it to the front gates before she turned around and saw them all standing there, watching her go. There were few who could say they had not one but two queens bidding them farewell before they went off to war. Plus Izzy’s father, grandfather, and uncles were out there too, the dragon necklace they’d had made for her from the steel of their favorite weapons hanging under her padded shirt and against her heart. But it was her mum that caused more tears to well up in Izzy’s throat, knowing it would be months before she again saw the woman who’d risked everything for her.

Izzy gave one last wave and quickly walked through the gates. When she knew they could no longer see her, she took off running, forcing her tears back as she didn’t want anyone in her unit to see she’d been crying.

The troops were gathering in the west fields, and she’d been grateful her family said good-bye to her here rather than in front of everyone else. She’d bet that was her father’s smart idea.

She was nearly to the field, able to see horses, banners, and rallying troops through the trees, when she heard her name called.

She stopped and spun around to find Éibhear standing there.

“I see you said good-bye to everyone.”

She chuckled, wiping the wetness from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “You know how me and Mum are.”

“I do.”

She smiled at him. “Coming to kiss me good-bye then?”

There went that tic she’d begun to notice. It was in his right cheek and she’d caught sight of it for the first time at the last feast when he abruptly walked over to her and said, “I thought you were behind the bloody—oh, forget it!” And just as abruptly walked away.

“No,” he ground out, the tic worsening. “I’ve come to
say
good-bye.”

“You could have done that back there.”

He let out a sigh. “You’re right. Sorry I bothered.”

She watched him turn, heading back to Garbhán Isle. Cranky and rude as always, he was. What was it about her that irritated him so? He was so nice to everyone else.

She bit her lip a moment before she said, “They say you’re going to the north with Grandmum’s armies.”

He stopped but didn’t turn around. “I am.”

“Will you miss me at all?”

He let out another sigh, more aggravated than the last. “Of course I will.” He faced her again. “I’m your uncle and I’ll miss you.”

“Gwenvael’s my uncle. Fearghus. You’re
not
my uncle, Éibhear.”

“Izzy—”

“You’ll never be my uncle.”

“I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“The way Celyn
isn’t
my cousin.”

His silver eyes glinted in the early-morning suns and he snapped, “Going to play that game now are you, princess?”

“He likes me.”

“For now. Until he gets what he wants and gets bored.”

“He’s nice and he’s too terrified of Briec to be cruel.”

“But if you’re in love with him—”

“I’m not.”

He tried to hide it, but she knew she saw relief on that infinitely beautiful face. “At least you’re going to be smart about it,” he muttered.

“He’ll never have my heart, Éibhear.”

“Good—”

“Not like you do.”

“Izzy …” He began to back away from her. “Stop.”

“Go to the north, Éibhear. Go wherever you want. It won’t make a bit of difference. Because when the time is right … You’ll be mine.”

“That’s it. You’re a spoiled brat and impossible to deal with.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“No, Izzy. I don’t. Get it into your thick head already. You’re my brother’s daughter and that means something with my kin. But, at the end of the day, you’re not my problem. Still, try not to get yourself killed, eh?”

Hurt, but not willing to show it, she said, “I’ll try to avoid that.”

He nodded at her and walked off.

“And don’t worry,” she told his back. “I wasn’t planning on waiting for you.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.”

“I’ve always felt my virginity should go to someone who actually
earns
it.”

And that’s when Éibhear tripped over his own feet and went head first into the trunk of a rather large tree.

“Gods dammit!”
he roared, gripping his head.

Not inclined to wait around, Izzy quickly spun on her heel and ran to meet with her already moving troops.

Dagmar quickly crawled to the edge of the ridge and lifted her large spectacles to her face. “Dammit! We missed it.”

“Mhhmm?”

Gwenvael’s arm went around her waist and he began kissing her lower back. “This is your fault,” she accused, trying to ignore the feel of his mouth against her bare skin.

“Probably.” He moved lower. “But do you really mind?”

“Yes!” she lied.

“Liar.”

His tongue began to trace the lines of his Claiming mark. Dagmar’s eyes crossed and she lowered the extra spectacles before she dropped them.

“You make the worst spy,” she accused.

They’d come up there to watch Baron Lord Craddock’s wife entertain herself with one of Annwyl’s soldiers. Yet Dagmar had been overwhelmingly delighted when it turned out her liaison was with a local pig farmer who, she’d heard from Morfyd, had a strange affection for his merchandise and rarely bathed.