About a Dragon

When he wasn’t doing all that, he was looking for an argument. He absolutely loved irritating the hell out of her. He made sure to do it often, it seemed. Of course it didn’t help that when he would start the fights, not only would she jump in with much enthusiasm, but the arguments invariably made her want him. Desperately. They both knew it, too. The way he’d stare at her. The way his nostrils would flare seconds before he’d say something else to aggravate her more, proved to her he knew exactly what he was doing.

Yet, she knew deep in her soul, all this did was kill time. Time until he could get her truly alone. Away from his meddling brothers. Talaith, however, lived in fear of that day. She didn’t fear Briec. Not anymore. But she did fear her feelings for him. She’d been so young when she’d met her first and, up to this point, only love. A young, tall warrior with light brown eyes who treated her like a princess. They’d given each other everything, to her mother’s great annoyance. But he’d died in battle and that’s when her entire world changed.

But he’d been a mere boy. Barely ten and eight. Briec, however, was in no way young or inexperienced. Plus the fact he wasn’t human still bothered her…a lot. Many would consider a mating between the two an abomination. Actually, Talaith would have felt that way, too—before she met Briec.

Now she dreamed every night about the big bastard. And in every dream they argued. Which normally wouldn’t worry her. What worried her was waking up a sweating mess with her sex wet and her hand between her legs. Even in the darkness of the cave, she knew Briec watched her. He watched her moan and writhe on the bed and not once did he touch her. Although she sensed he wanted to…very much. She had to admit, she admired his strength of will. Most men she’d known wouldn’t wait for her. Ones not remotely as powerful as Briec would have taken what they wanted from her whether she agreed or not.

He didn’t. Which just made her like him more. And she hated him for it.

Finally, though, the rains and lightning stopped. At least temporarily since the clouds still hovered near. After much begging—and arguing—Briec finally agreed to take her down to the closest village. But she had to promise she wouldn’t do anything “annoyingly stupid” like yell for help. She grudgingly promised, because Arzhela still had not called to her. Once that call came, she would do what she had to, even break her promise to the dragon.

The town near Gwenvael’s cave—where every local woman seemed to know or know of the three brothers—boasted a sizable market, and there were many items she would have liked to purchase if she had any coin. But she wouldn’t ask the dragon for any money. Not in this lifetime.

Gwenvael grabbed her hand and dragged her over to one of the dressmaker shops. “We should get you something pretty.”

“We? You actually plan to spend money on me?”

“No. That’s my dear brother’s job. But I can dress you as the goddess you are. Especially because I have much better taste than him.”

Talaith laughed while he looked over the already made gowns and the available materials. Gwenvael had grown on her. True, she had no doubt he’d fairly leap between her legs if she even gave him the merest hint she might welcome him. But they both knew he’d only do it to annoy Briec.

Which was why she wasn’t surprised when Briec suddenly appeared behind her, glaring at Gwenvael.

“What are you doing?”

“Picking out a dress for you to buy for your lady.”

His lady?

“I am not his lady.”

“She’s not my lady.”

Talaith glared at Briec over her shoulder. “What do you mean I’m not your lady?”

“You just said you’re not my lady.”

She turned to face him. “I can say what I want. You, however, need to keep your mouth shut.”

“You know as I begin to forget your peasant upbringing, you seem to delight in reminding me.”

“As you pointed out before, my upbringing was not that of a peasant. I am the daughter of a merchant.”

“A sea merchant?”

Her eyes narrowed. Sea merchants held extremely bad reputations throughout Dark Plains and Alsandair. Rumors abounded that most of them were more pirates than merchants, their boats coming down from the Northland Sea and raiding seaside towns. “No, you arrogant—” She stopped speaking and looked down at the big hands holding a lovely dress up in front of her. Of course, leave it to Gwenvael to hold her dress up by taking a firm grasp of her br**sts.

Before she could tell him to get his bloody hands off, Briec beat her to it. “Remove your hands, brother.”

Gwenvael’s large, strong body pressed against her back while his golden head leaned over her shoulder and stared down, she assumed, at the dress. “I wanted to see how this looked on her before you buy it.”

“Remove your hands…or lose your hands.”

Keeping his head firmly against her shoulder, Gwenvael lifted only those big gold eyes of his. “Now, now, brother. Temper, temper.”

“Oh!” Talaith slammed her foot down into Gwenvael’s instep.

“Ack!”

She pulled away from Gwenvael and quickly maneuvered around Briec before he could grab hold of her either, so her back faced the shop exit. “Both of you cut it out. I will not be tugged between you two like a…a…”

“Fine sweetmeat?”

“Delicious morsel?”

“Tasty tidbit?”