Dragon Actually (39 page)

Before he could say another word, Rhiannon straddled his ass and he just
knew
this was going to hurt.

“My Lord.”

Bercelak forced his eyes open to find the centaur standing beside him. She leaned in and whispered. “I’m sorry to awaken you, my lord. But your kin have asked to speak with you.”

He glanced around, his eyes still trying to focus. “Is it morning?”

The centaur smiled, most likely remembering her promise from the night before. “Yes, my lord.
Late
morning.”

“Tell them I’ll be right there.”

Without another word, she bowed and left.

Rhiannon, still human as was he, was pushed up tight against his side, her head nearly buried in his armpit. She slept deep and looked beautiful doing it.

He smiled as he remembered their Claiming from the night before. With all that screaming and roaring and snarling, the whole court must have thought they were killing each other. He kissed her forehead and dragged himself out of bed.

Without even thinking about it, as human he went to the Queen’s Hall. He had every intention of getting right back into bed and enjoying Rhiannon—
his
Rhiannon—even more before first meal. Then he’d spend the rest of the day and eve taking her as dragon.

Several of his brothers and Ghleanna, all those who went to track down Rhiannon’s kin, waited for him.

One of his younger brothers whistled. “Gods, Bercelak. What did that female do to you?”

“What is it?” he barked, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet braced apart. He was in no mood for his siblings’ antics when he had the woman of his dreams waiting for him back in their bedchamber.

Ghleanna answered, “By the time we arrived, her three brothers and that viper sister of hers were long gone. Word is that two of her brothers went into the Northlands.”

“Northlands?” he scoffed. “The lightning dragons will eat them alive. What else?”

“While the sister and the other brother went to the desert lands of Alsandair. Those dragons might help them.”

Addolgar stepped forward. “There’s no guarantee the lightning dragons won’t help them either. They may be barbarians, but they are greedy ones. They’d love to have this territory.”

“And they’ll never get it.”

At the sound of Rhiannon’s voice, they all turned except Bercelak. When around others he would never turn away from those who may harm her. Now that she was queen, even with her mother dead, Rhiannon was in more danger than she had been before. So, instead, he gave a quick glance at her over his shoulder. She stood before them as human, completely naked, the marks of her Claiming pitch black against her skin and the collar and chain still around her neck.

Bercelak had never loved her more.

“Gods, Bercelak!” his sister exclaimed. “What the hell did you do?”

He knew what she meant. He’d branded a dragon the entire length of Rhiannon’s body, the tail starting at the very tip of her foot and reaching up one leg, across her stomach, around her back and across her ass, then back around and up her ribcage, across her breast, then upper chest and collarbone, until it rested across her neck and stopped at the right side of her jaw.

But even though he knew what his sister meant, he didn’t answer her. Their Claiming was their Claiming and no one, even his nosy kin, had any say in it whatsoever.

He spoke to Rhiannon without turning around, “What do you want us to do? Do we follow them?”

“No. I’ll not send out troops to bring back four dragons,” she stated with confidence. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be prepared for them. If they come back here, with or without dragons from other regions, we’ll rip the scales from their body and tear their flesh apart.”

Bercelak bit back his smile as the entire hall fell silent at Rhiannon’s casually dropped words. He knew she meant it, but it was the coldness that frightened the rest of them. It didn’t frighten him, though. He knew she’d make a wonderful queen. He never had a doubt.

“We have things to right here first,” she continued. “My kin can wait until they do something stupid.”

She grew silent and he could feel her eyes boring into his back, examining her own mark. A dragon burned into his human flesh covered his entire back and, to his amusement, his ass as well. His body grew tight while his cock grew hard at the thought that his female wanted him as much as he wanted her. And he didn’t bother to hide his reaction. Let them see. Let them see it all.

“My bed grows cold, mate,” she murmured behind him. “Don’t leave me waiting.”

With that she turned and walked back to her bedchamber. Her chain dragging behind her.

Bercelak focused on his family. “We leave them for now as she said, but we’ll be ready for them should they return.”

His brothers nodded as did his sister. They were all part of Rhiannon’s court now. No longer the low-borns . . . but royalty.

With a nod, he turned and walked back up the stairs. He heard one of the other dragons, not his kin, mutter to a comrade beside him, the voice filled with disgust, “She’s marked him already. Look at his back.” The dragon snorted. “Well, we see who has the cock in that family.”

Bercelak kept walking, even as he sensed his kin silently backing away from the one who spoke. As he reached one of the weapon stands at the edge of the hall, he grasped a long pike, turned, and threw it with unerring aim.

The pike slammed through the dragon’s neck, yanking him back, and impaling him against the marble wall behind him.

Bercelak turned to the rest of the court who watched him in fear. All except his kin. They looked down at their feet or at the ceiling. Because they knew if they looked at each other they’d burst out laughing. Which would definitely destroy the terror thing they were all striving for at the moment.

He smiled, which seemed to scare the royals even more. “I didn’t hear him. What did he say?”

No one answered. No one dared.

“That’s what I thought.”

With that last bit sneered at those too weak to challenge him, he went back to his bedchamber and made his mate scream his name for the remainder of the morning . . . and well into the afternoon.

195 years later . . .

Snarling, Rhiannon marched back toward the family’s cave. While Devenallt Mountain held her throne, it was this cave where she raised her hatchlings. And what spoiled, rotten little hatchlings they were!

Without even thinking, she stormed past her mate, busy with his kin looking at attack plans. Her throne was at risk and they would be going to war. Already her two eldest had been given the armor of battle dragons. She didn’t want them to go, but they were old enough now to make their own choices.

Bercelak’s claw grabbed her upper forearm, holding her in place. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vice.

“Leave us,” he commanded the dragons in the room. And, without hesitation, they did.

“What’s wrong, Rhiannon? Tell me.”

She yanked her forearm away and glared at her mate. “Your,” and she punctuated that “your” with the tip of her tail in his face, “viper offspring cut off his tail!”

Bercelak shook his head in confusion. “Cut off whose tail?”

“Gwenvael’s!” she shouted, so angry, she could barely see straight.

But instead of Bercelak demanding his offspring’s presence so he could tell them what horrible little bastards they were, he burst out laughing.

“I’m sure he deserved it.”

Her tail slapped him across the neck. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, Rhiannon, just repair it. You baby him too much.”

She slammed her foot down, shaking the cave walls. “I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“When I caught them, I yelled right as Fearghus was throwing it to Briec. He was so startled that it slipped past his hands and into the river . . . they have not been able to find it.”

Bercelak cleared his throat and worked hard to keep his face straight. “It’s an easy enough thing to happen, my love.”

Her tail slammed into Bercelak’s chest, which didn’t even budge him. “You raised them very much as your father raised you,
my love.
Those little bastards don’t
get
startled!”

Unable to hold it back anymore, Bercelak once again burst out laughing. “
I know!
”

“Oh!” Rhiannon turned and started to storm away, but Bercelak’s forearms wrapped around her and he pulled her dragon body tight against his own.

“Don’t be angry, love. Please. I’m sorry.” He gave a valiant try at not laughing.

“It was horrible, Bercelak. Blood was flying everywhere, and he just kept swinging that tail around.”

With one snort, Bercelak started laughing again.

“You know,” she growled, “you wouldn’t think this was so funny if it were your precious Morfyd or Keita.”

As she knew, that sobered him immediately. “No, I would not.”

“Well that’s how I feel about my Gwenvael.”

“Again . . . you baby him too much.”

“And you’re too hard on him because he reminds you of your father.”

“From the time he was twenty winters I kept finding him with my father’s kitchen staff.”

“He’s lusty.”

“He’s a whore.”

“Oh!” She pulled out of his arms. “I won’t discuss this anymore. You’re irritating me, Low Born.”

She turned to walk away from him, but his voice stopped her.

“Don’t walk away from me, Rhiannon.” There was no threat in his voice. Only delicious promise.

“Shift,” he ordered with a low purr.

“Why should I?”

“Because I told you to.”

She did her best to hide the shudder that went through her body and shifted to human. In seconds, his human arms wrapped around her from behind, then his low voice muttered in her ear, “You are much too tense, Princess.”

“Think you can help me relax then?”

“Oh, aye. I know I can.”

His hands on her breasts, he pulled her back until she knew they were right by the table with all its elaborate battle plans and maps. And that’s right where he tossed her.

Stepping between her legs, Bercelak’s head lowered until his mouth covered her breast.

Moaning, she leaned back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands buried in his silky black hair. After all this time, he still felt so very good.

But they kept forgetting one small thing . . . actually, five not-so-small things . . .

“Gods!” Their eldest son barked. “Can you two not find a private alcove or, at the very least, a bed?”

Rhiannon looked over to see her children at the entrance. Her eldest, Fearghus, slapped his claws around the eyes of her two youngest, Keita and Éibhear. Morfyd looked appalled and embarrassed, Briec looked bored and Gwenvael, of course, applauded.

“It’s nice to see old dragons fucking, isn’t it?” he cheered. And she suddenly wished that
she’d
taken his tail.

Bercelak lifted his head and roared, “Out, you little bastards!
Out!
”

Morfyd couldn’t move fast enough. She practically sprinted from the room, white hair flying behind her.
I really will have to find a way to toughen that little dragoness up.
Briec snorted and walked away, reaching back to grab Gwenvael’s wounded tail and drag the cheeky little bastard, yelling and threatening and still bleeding, from the room. Fearghus lifted up his young kin and walked out while Keita tried to remove her brother’s hand so she could get a better look, and Rhiannon’s sweet Éibhear just kept saying, “What? What am I missing?
What?
”

Once they’d left, Bercelak focused those black eyes on her. Eyes that her eldest son had.

“
You
wanted hatchlings.”

“I know. I just didn’t want
those
hatchlings. Personally, I blame your father.”

Bercelak’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?”

On a burst of laughter, she exclaimed, “Well that came out horribly wrong!”

“Oh, that’s it, Princess. You’ve got to make it up to me now.”

With that, he lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” she demanded, even as she kept laughing and he stalked off deep into the cave.

“Where do you think?”

And, laughing, they said together, “To get the chains!”

They dragged her from bed before the two suns even rose over the Caffyn Mountains. She fought as best she could, but the noose they’d wrapped around her throat cut off her ability to breathe, weakening her. And they bound her hands tightly with coarse rope because they feared she’d cast a spell on them. She had none to cast, but what really annoyed her was her inability to get the dagger still tied to her thigh.

Of course, only she would get an entire town to try and kill her.
Nice one, idiot
.

Strong men threw the end of the rope over a sturdy branch and slowly pulled her off her feet. They didn’t want her to die too quickly. They wanted to watch her hang for a while, and it looked like they’d prepared a pyre for a good, old-fashioned witch burning.

Lovely.

The man she called husband screamed at her. He screamed how she was a witch. How she was evil. How they all knew the truth about her and now she would pay. If she weren’t fighting for her life, she’d roll her eyes in annoyance.

But what truly galled her . . . what set her teeth absolutely on edge—other than choking to death—was that the goddess who sent her here all those years ago was the same one leaving her to die.

She thought the evil bitch would at least protect her until she finally accomplished what she needed her to do. What she’d been training to do since she was sixteen.

But Talaith, Daughter of Haldane, had learned long ago that no one was to be trusted. No one would ever protect her. No one would ever do anything but use her. Eventually she’d learned to trust no one but herself.

Of course a few allies might have helped you this day, Talaith.

She coughed and squirmed in her bonds, praying her neck would finally just break. She would definitely rather not die by burning. Talaith never considered flame a witch’s best friend.