About a Dragon

“I simply can’t stay, Briec.”

“Does someone wait for you?”

Exasperated at his persistence, she glared at him and snapped, “Yes. In fact there’s an entire army waiting for me. I intend to service them all. Happy now? Now can I go?”

“Are you incapable of giving me a straight answer?”

“Are you incapable of hearing me? I want to go. Now.”

Flames flared around him and then were gone, leaving the man behind. And oh, what a man…

She didn’t know which was worse—the dragon Briec who could eat her in one bite or the human Briec who she wanted to eat her in one bite.

“Why do you insist on arguing everything with me?”

She’d angered him. Good. It was much easier dealing with an angry dragon than a considerate, caring one. “Why do you insist on not listening to me?”

“Even if I wanted to let you go, you still can’t leave in this weather.”

“I’ll do as I like, you oversized, scaly bastard. And that means I’m leaving.”

She turned to walk away, but Briec took firm hold of her arm and swung her back around.

“Don’t walk away from me!”

“Get your hands off me before I slice you open like I did your brother.”

She still had the blade in her right hand. And that was the hand Briec gripped and yanked to his throat, pressing the tip of the blade against the soft spot where his neck met his collarbone. “Then do it, little witch. Push your dagger home and run.”

Talaith stared at the tip of her blade pressing against soft flesh. Do it, Talaith. Do it. She yelled the words at herself over and over. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t kill him.

“You can’t do it, can you?” He didn’t sound smug or arrogantly sure—he sounded shocked. “Can you?”

She didn’t answer him. They both knew she didn’t have to. Her hesitation revealed too much. Gave too much a way.

“I—” was all she managed before he slapped her hand, and the dagger it held, away and gripped her face tight between his hands.

Briec yanked her up seconds before his mouth slammed down over hers. Not exactly how she imagined their first kiss, but this was so much better.

She whimpered and tipped her head to the side, her tongue dipping into his mouth and sliding across his. She felt his body tense, surprised by her bold reaction no doubt. Surprised and entertained. He pulled her tighter against his body and deepened their kiss, ravaging her mouth with his own.

Now this…this was a kiss. A kiss of the highest order. The kind of kiss she’d dreamed about all her life, but never thought she’d experience. The kind she knew would make her willing to give up everything for a night in a man’s bed. Except for Briec not exactly being a man, she was there.

After a few moments, the kiss gentled and Briec took his time exploring her mouth. Talaith let him, enjoying this kiss in ways she never thought she could. Her entire body screamed for his attention. Screamed to be taken and claimed. She wanted him. Gods did she want him!

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away from her and murmured, “I knew you wanted me.”

Damn him! Talaith brought her booted foot down on his instep.

“Ow!” He stumbled away from her. “What in holy hell was that for?”

“For not half being an arrogant bastard.”

She retrieved her blade from the floor and headed to the chamber she used as her bedroom, resigned to staying in this pit of despair at least until the weather cleared or Arzhela called to her.

“I hate you, Briec the Arrogant,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You and all your kind.”

“Really? It certainly doesn’t smell that way.”

She didn’t respond. Why bother when he was right?

* * *

When she didn’t show up for dinner, Éibhear went searching for her, Gwenvael trailing behind. Briec wouldn’t speak of her and wouldn’t go. Éibhear didn’t know what happened between them after he and Gwenvael left, but it made Briec one cranky dragon.

They finally tracked her down at the springs. She sat on the edge of one, her small bare feet in the warm water and her hand firmly wrapped around one of his father’s bottles of Fire Wine…uh-oh.

Sitting on either side of her, the brothers watched her stare into the water and sway. Side to side. Side to side. Humming. It was kind of mesmerizing.

“Lady Talaith?”

Big, brown, and rather dazed eyes slowly focused on him. “Éibhear—” He waited for her to say something more but that seemed to be all she could manage.

“What are you doing, m’lady?”

She held up the bottle. “Drinking tea.”

He smiled. “That’s not tea, Talaith.”

“I sensed that when I walked into the wall.” She pointed to the spot, using the hand holding the bottle and almost slapping Gwenvael on the wounded side of his head. Luckily he moved quickly. “The wall over there.”

She turned back around and that’s when she saw Gwenvael.

“Gwenvael.” She leaned against him, surprising both brothers. “I’m so sorry I almost killed you.”

What Éibhear admired about Gwenvael was how he never stayed angry for long. And, unlike their father and Fearghus, he didn’t bother holding grudges either. He preferred enjoying himself by making other people miserable. He was very good at it.

“It’s all right, Talaith. I’m sure you can make it up to me somehow.”