Dragon Actually

“Gods, woman!” Fearghus released her so he could use his hands to cover his eyes in exasperation as he sat back on his heels. “Are you mad?”

Annwyl pulled herself out from under him. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“What else?” He looked at her. “What else did you say to her?”

She shrugged. “Let’s see . . . well, I asked her how Bercelak’s tail was doing?”

Fearghus buried his head in his hands again. “Are you that sure she won’t kill you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Figured she’d kill me right on the spot.” She stated it so nonchalantly he knew she was being completely honest with him.

“And yet you . . .”

“Don’t like to be ordered around, Fearghus. You should know that.”

“Well, she clearly didn’t kill you. So what did she say?”

Again the shrug. “She gave me the loyalty of all dragons.” Fearghus stared at Annwyl. Not sure he heard her correctly. His mother handed to a human the loyalty of all dragons? Was he on another plain of existence? Had the gods decided to play tricks on his mind? What in hell . . . “Then she said she had to go, and I asked her if she was going back to her chain.”

His mother’s gift completely forgotten, he tried to look stern, but kept laughing instead. “Tell me you’re lying. Please.”

Annwyl grinned at him. “Wish I could. But it just flew out of my mouth.”

Fearghus grinned back. How could he not? He loved the most difficult woman he’d ever met, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He eyed her slowly. A bit leaner and a little darker, he guessed from the time she spent in battle and under the two suns. She still had a thin scar across her cheek from her brother’s gauntleted hand. And his brands stood out clear and triumphant on her forearms. Ah, Annwyl. Still beautiful. And still his.

“That’s a very subtle tunic you’re wearing, my love.”

Annwyl glanced down at the sleeveless chainmail shirt she wore. “I had these specially made. I like my arms to be free and comfortable. Easier to take heads.”

Fearghus nodded. “Did you miss me?”

Annwyl leaned back, the palms of her hands lying flat against the cave floor. Her body stretched tight. Taunting him. Tempting him. After all this time he still wanted her so badly he could barely breathe. “Not really.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Tell me you missed me, Annwyl.”

Annwyl’s eyes locked with his own. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me now, woman.”

She stared at his mouth. “Make me.”

“A challenge, Queen Annwyl?”

“Not a challenge you’d ever be able to live up to, Prince Dragon.”

With a snarl he knew only Annwyl would find playful, he seized her ankle and snatched her body to him, dragging her across the cave floor.

“Oi!”

He pulled off her weapons, yanked off her chainmail shirt, and dragged her leggings from her body, pausing only briefly to lick the brands on the inside of her thighs.

Annwyl pushed at his chest. “You know, I should really beat the living—” He didn’t let her finish. Instead he pushed her down and stretched himself across her, covering her mouth in a brutal kiss. She shoved at his shoulders while her legs wrapped around his waist. Still his Annwyl, always fighting to the bitter end while milking him dry. He grabbed her wrists and again pinned her arms above her head. She growled in response as she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. He settled between her thighs and buried himself inside of her. Slick and ready, her body shook beneath his with barely contained lust. Her moans and cries desperate against his lips. Her hips arched against him and he thrust hard into her in response.

She’d been gone too long from him. Too many nights spent alone, wondering if she were safe. If she were happy. If she missed him. Too much time apart for both of them, and he would never let it happen again.

So he Claimed her. Again. And he made sure she knew it.

Annwyl wrapped her legs around his waist and wondered how she’d managed so long without having him inside her. Filling her completely, making her think of nothing but him. Wanting nothing but him. A brutal coupling, but one she understood. He was Claiming her. Again. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. She needed it as much as he did. To know she belonged to him. And that he belonged to her.

She struggled to loose her arms from his steel grip, knowing that he’d never let go. She wanted to touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers. But she loved the fight just as much. He’d never give her an inch. Never let her get away with anything. She would always be his challenge and he would always face it with his usual unquenched vigor.

Annwyl strained against him. Each hard thrust bringing her closer to climax. He kissed her face. Her jaw. Her neck. But when his teeth sank into the flesh below her collarbone, she went over the edge. She screamed in release. A war cry. But he continued ahead. Never stopping until, several minutes later, he tore another scream from her. And that time he came with her. His roar almost drowning out hers.

Fearghus released her arms, laying his head against her chest. She managed a tired smile as she wrapped herself around him. “All right. So I missed you a bit,” she finally admitted.

He laughed and she closed her eyes, the feeling of that deep voice sliding through her. She was safe. At home.

“No, no, Annwyl. Please stop. You’re drowning me with all your emotion.” He chuckled as his hands gently caressed her sweat-covered body. “And just so you know. I missed you too.”