How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

A tentacle slapped across his snout, acid from it leeching past scale and into flesh. Snarling—because he knew that would scar—Éibhear battered the tentacle away.

“Éibhear! Axe!”

Éibhear lifted his claw and caught the axe Uther threw at him. He brought it down, cutting off three tentacles at once, but another three slithered out from . . . well, he didn’t want to think about where they slithered from.

“We’ve got Vateria!” Caswyn yelled.

“Get her out of here! Now!”

Knowing Caswyn would take care of Vateria, Éibhear moved forward. He needed to cut off something more important than a tentacle. But before he could get close enough to anything important, tentacles slipped around his throat and arms, pulling him away. Holding him tight while what he assumed was a really vile-looking tongue slithered out from what he was guessing was a mouth, across the floor, and headed right for him.

Éibhear struggled against the tentacles. But as soon as he yanked one forearm or leg free, another tentacle caught hold again, holding him in place. The tongue neared him, slithering across the floor, blood, slime, and shit spreading from it as it did.

Gods, the smell alone made him want to vomit.

Éibhear opened his mouth to unleash flame but the tentacle around his throat tightened, choked him. Still, he didn’t stop fighting. Uther dropped onto the thing’s back, raised his second axe above its head, and began hacking away, but still it didn’t release Éibhear. Aidan came at it from the side, using a broadsword to stab it through its thick skin. And still, nothing.

But Éibhear didn’t care. He only fought harder. As did his comrades. He knew they wouldn’t stop until they all took their last breath . . . which they might be very close to doing.

That tongue was close now, nearly under him. This Éibhear wasn’t looking forward to. Especially when the tip of the tongue slowly began to lift up, too close to the important parts of him. Blood, shit, and death dripping off it and onto the floor, the smell making Éibhear gag. But still he fought. Still he—

A bare foot rammed down on that tongue, holding it in place on the floor, and a sword lifted up and plunged into it, pinning it to the ground with one hit.

The thing screamed out and released Éibhear so that it could attack the new threat.

Éibhear hit the ground, his sword still in his front claw. He looked down at the one who’d pinned that disgusting tongue—and smiled.

“See how I have to protect you?” he demanded with a smirk. “What if I wasn’t here? To . . . you know . . . protect you?”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Don’t know what I’d do without ya.” She motioned to the thing with a tilt of her head. “Look, you lot kill . . whatever that is. Me and Bran will take care of the rest. And then I’ll see you after.”

“Aye,” Éibhear promised her. “You will.”

They smiled at each other, knew the truth in those smiles. And, with love in their hearts . . . they proceeded to kill absolutely everything in the chamber that wasn’t a loyal friend, kin, or Imperial Guard.

Chapter 42

“So I’m a prat?”

“No,” Eirianwen corrected her mate while she stepped over the bodies from the recent battle in Sefu’s sewers in search of souls she could use. “I said you were a bit of a prat. A bit.”

“It’s all about semantics with you, isn’t it?”

“Semantics, my darling mate, is what makes war gods’ lives full and wonderful. Destruction of entire territories has been based on semantics.”

Rhydderch Hael leaned against a wall. He was in his human form today. She didn’t mind. She loved seeing him in any form he chose. “You interfered again, Eir.”

“I didn’t go near Izzy. Not once.”

“You know what I mean.”

She faced him, waved her forefinger at him, only to realize she’d lost it at some point to someone’s battle axe. In fact, she’d lost half her hand.

It didn’t help when her mate chuckled.

Quickly lowering her hand, Eir said, “Éibhear is mine, Rhy. Mine. We agreed. The Mì-runach come to me upon their deaths. To me. So stop acting like I stepped over some boundaries only you can see.”

“First Annwyl,” he reminded her.

“You’d already given her up to the Minotaur. She was mine to take.”

“Then Talaith.”

“She wasn’t yours in the first place and her human gods had deserted her long ago.”

“Now Éibhear . . .”

“Also not yours. But Izzy . . . she’s all yours. I haven’t touched her.” Although Eir liked the human female and the clan she came from. A warrior breed Eir had begun before she’d been tossed from the human pantheon of gods. “She’ll serve you well.”

“Well, she’s clearly so open to that,” he said with great sarcasm.

“What do you expect when you’re a bit of a prat? She’s loyal and you keep f**king with those she’s loyal to.”

“Whatever.”

Seeing that her mate was about to fly off in a pouty dragon rage, Eir walked toward Rhydderch Hael, crushing a few skulls beneath her feet. Using her unmarred hand, she pressed her palm to his cheek. “Don’t ever think for a moment, my love, that the games we play change how I feel for you. How I’ll always feel. I love you with all of my hardened warrior heart.”