Dragon Actually (22 page)

“Ow! Let me go, you crazy bastard!”

He ground his knuckles into the top of her head. “You are the most irritating little—”

“Annwyl, I . . .” Fearghus looked up as Brastias entered the tent. But he took one look at the siblings and walked back out.

Fearghus released his sister and shoved her away so she couldn’t get in a good kick.

“If anything had happened to her . . .”

“But it didn’t. And maybe you didn’t notice, but it saved her life!”

With that Morfyd straightened up her robes, pushed her white hair out of her face, stuck her tongue out at her brother, and left.

Fearghus growled, smoke curling out from his nostrils. “Brat.”

* * *

Annwyl headed back to her tent. She’d grown tired of pushing Gwenvael’s hand off her thigh every ten seconds. Eventually she’d just pulled his fingers back until she heard one of them give a satisfying “snap.” It angered him to no end, but after the past day he really didn’t worry her.

She walked past rows of men feasting and celebrating. Still so much more work to do, but she let the men have their time. They earned it. And they would earn more still. Annwyl knew that she must attack Garbhán Isle and take possession of the castle before she would truly be queen. It galled her that she would have to return to a place she held with such contempt, but the seat of power for Dark Plains
was
Garbhán Isle. She had no choice. And once done there she would then have to defeat any and all that might still hold loyalty to her brother. Yes, she had much work to do. But tonight she would celebrate. Tonight was special.

She slowed down to stop and glance at the front of camp. There it stood. Her brother’s head on a spike. She smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

“Uh . . . Annwyl?” She looked around to see Danelin standing before her. “You’re scaring the men.”

Annwyl looked at her troops. They’d stopped eating to watch her stare at the remains of her brother. And they did appear a little frightened.

“Sorry.” He made to walk past her, but she stopped him. “Nice work today, Danelin.”

He smiled proudly, nodded, and moved on.

As she neared her tent, Annwyl realized that no troops guarded it. That could only mean one thing.

As she stepped through the flaps, she saw him lounging decadently in a high-backed chair. A fur spread from the bed wrapped around his long, muscular body. His long black hair, recently washed, partially covering his face and chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She became wet at the mere sight of him.

“Lord Dragon.”

“Queen Annwyl.”

This was the first she’d seen of him once the battle turned. He’d gone off to help his family finish off the enemy dragons, she to destroy as many of Lorcan’s men as her troops could get their hands on. But war and sex had now become one for her. Probably forever. She blazed through men, knowing that the sooner she completed her task, the quicker she could return to Fearghus.

“A bath awaits you.” She glanced over at the huge tub. Since she still had her brother’s blood in her hair, a bath might be a good idea.

She moved to the middle of her tent and quickly removed the sheathed swords hanging from her back.

“Slowly.”

She looked up at Fearghus. He watched her closely with those beautiful black eyes of his. The walls of her womb clenched, and it took all her strength not to launch herself at him. Instead, she slowly removed her surcoat. Pulled off her boots and her chainmail. Unbound her breasts and slipped off the material that covered her sex. When done, she stood there. His eyes roved languidly over her. Taking in not only her body but every wound she now wore on it after the day’s battle.

He motioned to the tub with a flick of his eyes. She slipped into it and shivered.

“Cold?”

“A little.”

Throwing off the fur covering, he slowly stood and walked toward her. She studied his body as he came to rest beside the tub. Underneath all those long, hard muscles lay the heart and soul of a dragon.
Her
dragon. She licked her lips, her only thought, sucking his sweet cock once again into her willing mouth.

Fearghus crouched down next to her. He placed his hand in the tub between her thighs. She’d hoped he would touch her but he didn’t. His hand only rested there until she noticed that the water warmed up, nice and hot. This dragon Magick really did have its uses.

 “Relax,” he coaxed her gently. And she did just that, leaning back into the tub. Letting her head rest on the rim.

Fearghus poured water over her hair and soaped up her scalp. He washed the blood and sweat of the day from her hair and eventually her body.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Relaxed?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

Then Annwyl screamed as Fearghus shoved her head under water. He held her down for several long seconds as she fought to get that piece of steel he called an arm off her head. Eventually he released her and she came coughing and sputtering back to air.

“
What in all that’s holy
—”

He took hold of her shoulders and easily lifted her from the tub. “Listen to me clearly, woman. Never face my family again without me!
Ever!
You are never and I mean
never
to risk your life like that again! Are we clear?”

Annwyl pulled away from him and took several stumbling steps back. “No! We are not clear!” She turned on him. “I did what I had to. And I’d do it again! And I’m not afraid of your family!”

“Annwyl,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” She fought to get the strands of wet brown hair out of her eyes. “Do you have any idea what I went through today? In just one day I stood in the dragon’s flame . . .
twice!
”

“But I—”

“
Quiet!
” He stood there, startled into silence. “I also had to face that cold bitch you call a mother! I took my own brother’s head!
And
I was forced to break
your
brother’s hand because he wouldn’t stop touching me!”

Fearghus broke out in a grin and she stopped her tirade. “What?”

“You broke his hand?” He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, it was more like a finger. But the way he carried on, you’d think I’d broken his entire arm.”

Fearghus laughed. Hard. And, eventually, Annwyl smiled.

What the hell was he going to do? He loved this woman. Loved everything about her. Wanted her as his mate. But she had a kingdom to run. Allies to forge. Enemies to crush. He already saw the fear in the men’s eyes. They’d witnessed her “dance” with the dragon’s flame. A dance she’d survived. And they all knew she’d taken him as her lover. His presence would do nothing but put her safety at risk.

“What are you thinking, dragon?”

He shook his head and moved to her. “Nothing,” he whispered as he slipped an arm around her waist.

“Still lying, I see.” She pulled away from him.

He sighed. “What, Annwyl?”

“You’re planning to leave, aren’t you?”

How she knew these things, he’d never know. “Look, you have a kingdom to—”

“Horseshit!”

“What?”

“He told me you’d come up with some noble horseshit about me having to defend my kingdom and no one able to accept the two of us.”

“Gwenvael,” he growled angrily. “Annwyl, it is for your—”

“You have two choices, dragon,” she cut in smoothly.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Do I?”

“Yes. You do.”

“And they are?”

“Claim me now. Or let me go forever.”

He’d kill his brother for his big mouth.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yes. I do.”

He wanted to Claim her. To make her his own. Yet he planned to wait until she’d secured her reign. And if, after that, she still wanted him. . . . “No. You don’t.”

“I know I’ll not waste my life waiting for you.” That stung. More than he wanted to admit.

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Really? You’re not?”

“No.”

“So I can take any man right now and you won’t care.”

“If that’s your wish.” He bet a lie that size could kill him.

“Well, any man won’t do,” she mused softly. “But I think Gwenvael is still here.”

She grabbed a fur covering and headed toward the tent flap. Fearghus seized her by her arm and swung her around. “That’s not funny,” he growled.

“Fearghus, just admit it. You’d kill any man or dragon who came near me.”

He wanted to say no. He wanted it to be the truth. But they both knew better.

“I would.”

She leaned into him. Her breasts against his forearm. He closed his eyes as her hand ran down his chest, his hips, finally grasping his shaft in her hand. She ran her fingers over the veins and ridges, her thumb circled the head. “Then Claim me.”

“No.”

She angrily released what had now become a healthy erection. “Why?”

“Because it would be clear to all that you are mine. That your love and loyalty belonged to a dragon.”

“And?”

“Could you at least
act
afraid?”

“The only thing I feared has his head on a spike outside my camp. Now my fear is of living the rest of my life without you.”

Fearghus stared at Annwyl. Just that morning the woman bravely took the queen’s flame. A flame imbued with the most ancient of Magicks. And until her death, Annwyl would always be immune to any dragon’s fire. But he knew his mother well enough to know she didn’t make it easy on the girl. Annwyl’s back and side were completely covered in dark bruises. The old bitch probably knocked her right out of her chamber.

His eyes glanced briefly at the mark clearly defined on her chest; it was burned into the tan skin above her breasts. She now wore the Chain of Beathag as well. And would for the rest of her life. It would always be there, right under her skin. One of the most powerful gods-created items a dragon could bestow upon a human. The Chain of Beathag could extend the life of the wearer but only if her heart remained pure and her love true. Her love for the dragon. Otherwise it would be a fiery and painful death that would last days.

He touched the mark and Annwyl winced, her skin still sensitive. Annwyl loved him. She wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t.

Yet he couldn’t let that change his plan. He wouldn’t put Annwyl at risk until she secured her reign. Of course that didn’t mean Annwyl would make it easy on him.

“Annwyl—”

“I grow tired of this . . . and of you.” She snatched her arm away from him, taking several long strides to the wood table in the middle of her tent. Already she moved like a queen. The humans would be lucky to have her as their sovereign.

“Claim me now, dragon.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fur barely covering her at all. “Or go. And never come back.”

He knew what he should do. He should walk out of her life forever. He should let some nice human boy take her. Some nice human boy he would have to kill for touching the woman he loved.

With a sigh, Fearghus went and stood in front of her. “You are a mad bitch, Annwyl the Bloody.”

“What other woman would put up with you, Fearghus the Destroyer?”

Fearghus leaned down and kissed the top of Annwyl’s head to prevent himself from laughing. “You are a strange woman, Queen Annwyl.” He brushed his cheek against hers.

“So I’ve been told.” His hands slid under the fur covering, gliding along her waist, her back, her rear. He heard her breath catch as she leaned into him. “Don’t make me wait, dragon. Claim me now or let me go forever.”

“Are you sure, Annwyl? Once this is done, there will be no going back.”

“I’ve made my decision, dragon.” She let the fur covering drop to the floor. “But make sure it’s what
you
want. Do me no favors.”

He gripped her around the waist and easily sat Annwyl on the wood table. He kissed her forehead, then her neck as he grasped both her forearms in his hands. He leaned in and kissed her luscious mouth as his grip on her arms became tighter.

Annwyl stared at Fearghus and wondered what he was doing. He stood quietly, holding onto her forearms as if he were afraid she’d run away. But that wouldn’t happen. She wanted this, and him, more than anything. But maybe he’d decided he just didn’t want her. That he’d rather spend his long life with a dragon as a mate.

Gwenvael led her on this course, damn him. The drunker the dragon got, the more she realized how much he actually cared for his gruff older brother. Even as he tried to put his hand on her rear. Then Morfyd confirmed it. The two of them planted themselves on either side of Annwyl and told her that if she wanted their brother, she’d best get him to Claim her this night. Otherwise he’d leave, thinking he did it for the right reasons.

But maybe they were wrong. Maybe he didn’t want her at all. Not for any length of time anyway.

Annwyl winced. His grip on her arms hadn’t tightened, but pain still slashed across her flesh. Her fists rested against his chest and she felt his deep, even breathing against her skin as her agony became more intense. The pain reminded her of when she burned her hand over an open flame or got too close to a bubbling pot. It went through her skin right down to the flesh and bone beneath.

She tried to stifle a yelp of pain, but she just couldn’t. It hurt that much. She dropped her head against his chest, praying it wouldn’t last much longer, when a warm jolt passed through her body. Her nipples hardened. Her sex became wet. Her breath came out in short gasps. She moaned as her entire body tightened. Fearghus’s erection rose against her in response to her body’s call.

Annwyl gasped as another pulse of heat passed through her. Her sex clenched. Her legs weakened. She was coming. She didn’t know how or why, but she was coming. And when a third wave of heat flashed through her body, she cried out. She came hard, her teeth biting into the flesh of his chest.

Fearghus kissed her then. His mouth brutally claiming hers, his tongue torturing hers with bold strokes.

The pain in her arms receded and her spasms stopped. Fearghus released her and she glanced down at her forearms, saw burned flesh on both. The lingering after-pain made her wonder if they would ever heal.