Dragon Actually
He came up behind her. “Good,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re getting better. You want to beat me to a bloody pulp but you’re able to restrain yourself. Nice.” He desperately wanted to touch her, but he fought the desire as best he could. He had no idea his human body could be so hard to control.
“Now,” he barked gruffly. “Let’s start again.”
“So.” Morfyd placed a bowl of stew in front of Annwyl. “Tell me about your Brastias.”
Annwyl frowned. “He’s not my Brastias. At the moment, he’s no woman’s Brastias.” Annwyl’s frown quickly turned to a grin. “Interested?”
“What?” Morfyd started. “No.”
“Oh, then you are just being nosy.”
“Oh, forget I asked.”
Annwyl dug into the hearty stew. After her long day with the knight, her body demanded sustenance.
“Is it hard to be with all those men? All day? Every day?”
Annwyl drank some of Morfyd’s wine. She knew no threat of infection remained, but the wine still tasted unbelievably delicious.
“Not at all.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Just let one of the men touch you inappropriately and you take his arm off right at the shoulder joint. Then, as he’s bleeding to death, you slam his face into a few things, and you’ll find the other men leave you alone.”
Morfyd stared at Annwyl with wide eyes. “What?”
Morfyd cleared her throat. “Nothing.”
Annwyl could hear Fearghus coming, the cave shaking with each mighty step he took. She didn’t look up from her stew until he entered her chamber. “Lord Dragon.”
“Lady Annwyl.”
“I was wondering when you were going to come and visit me.”
The dragon barely glanced at Morfyd. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Morfyd?”
“No.”
The dragon bumped her chair with one of his talons. She glared but stood up. “Fine. I’m heading back to the village.”
“Good idea. All those sick humans for you to take care of.”
Morfyd sneered at the dragon while addressing Annwyl. “See you in the morning, Annwyl.”
“Have a good night.”
Annwyl finished off her stew, then turned to the dragon, a chalice of wine in her hand.
“So, Lord Dragon, what are your plans for this evening?”
He adjusted his body awkwardly and the end of his deadly tail landed gently in her lap. “Well, I thought we could do that thing again.”
“That thing?” Annwyl desperately fought a smile as she ran her hand across the scaled tip. Its very edge shaped like an arrowhead and as sharp. She briefly wondered if the dragon ever needed to sharpen it with a stone. “Do you mean talking?”
“Yes. Yes. Whatever it is called.”
“You like talking, don’t you? Just admit it.”
“I like talking to you. And that is all I will admit to.”
“Fine. No need to get testy.” His snout moved close as well. Without even thinking about it, she rubbed her hand over it. And the dragon let her. “So tell me more about your family.”
“Don’t you get bored with my family stories?”
“Not at all.” She leaned forward and looked at him, her hand once again resting on the tip of his tail. “Waiting.”
Fearghus sighed. “Well, one time we shaved our baby brother’s head.”
Annwyl burst out laughing.
Chapter 7
Annwyl hit the ground. Again. She had to admit it. She grew tired of seeing the world from the flat of her back.
She winced as the pain shocked through her head. The knight had hit her with the back of his hand, the sword he held adding to the power of the move.
“I think you broke my nose.”
“Probably.” He stood over her, staring into her face. Suddenly she silently cursed herself for removing her shirt while they trained, the rocky dirt digging into her bare back that the bindings did not cover. “No. I just pushed it out of joint a bit.”
Annwyl began to stand but he pushed her back down. “Calm yourself.” He tossed his blade aside and straddled her hips. She watched him with narrowed eyes as he rested the lower half of his body against hers.
He leaned over and took her nose between both of his big hands. “This may hurt a bit.”
He adjusted her nose back into place with a “pop.”
“Ow!” She slapped his shoulder.
“Don’t be a baby,” he admonished with a smile. “So, while I’m down here, any other aches or pains you need me to assist you with?”
Annwyl needed him to get off her because she didn’t want him off her. She wanted him to run his hands over her body. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted this man inside of her. And the thought absolutely terrified her.
“Get off me.”
“You know the magic word.”
Annwyl rolled her eyes. “Please,” she bit out between clenched teeth. The man continued to try what little patience she possessed.
“Now. Now. You can do a little better than that. A little nicer please. Perhaps mean it.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Unless . . .”
“Unless?”
“Unless you don’t want me to move.” He leaned in closer. “Unless you want me to stay right here.”
Bastard, it seemed like he could read her thoughts. Just having him on top of her caused her blood to race. And she had the strangest throbbing sensation between her thighs. Not unpleasant, but definitely disconcerting.