What a Dragon Should Know
He didn’t like the sound of that. Why was she fighting this? Fighting what was so obvious to anyone with eyes? Did he need to get the woman new spectacles?
“Which are?” he tried not to snarl.
“One”—she held up her forefinger—“my father is expecting me home.”
“You’re right. And you were having such a good time there, too.”
“It had its moments. Two,” she didn’t bother to raise another finger. “I have a good sixty or seventy years left, barring disease or an unpleasant fall down a flight of stairs. And I’d prefer my husband age with me.”
“I’ll talk to my mother about it.”
“Your mother? What can she do?”
“Do we really need to argue about this now?”
“Fine. Three”—and still only that one finger—“I don’t share.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You don’t have to.” She motioned to the bed with a wave of her hand. “They’re laid out for you. Like treats.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“Yes. It is. Two hundred years of being a whore does not go away magically. And my life is simply too short to sit around being depressed over you. Or any man.”
“Dragon.”
“What?”
“I’m a dragon. I’m not a man.”
“It doesn’t matter. Once that c**k grows between your legs, it doesn’t matter what you are; it’s all over. And if you think I’ll be like my pathetic sisters-in-law, living and dying by a man’s cock, you’re sadly mistaken!”
She had no idea when she’d gotten so angry, but she was now. Livid, in fact. She hadn’t been livid when she’d found that pathetic woman sitting on Gwenvael’s bed, waiting for a male to show up and use her as a receptacle for his seed. Yet now Dagmar was blindingly livid and had no idea why.
But if she was going to be livid, she was going to enjoy it.
“So forgive me, Lord Gwenvael, if my idea of a happy life doesn’t involve sitting around waiting for you. Hoping and praying that you’re not off doing what seems to come so naturally to you.” She walked up to him, pointed her finger in his face. “I have things to do, I’ll have you know. I won’t be waiting around for you or anyone. And what I sure as hell won’t accept is someone else waiting for you in my stead!”
He wrapped his hand around her fist and yanked up, forcing her onto her toes. Her forefinger was still extended and he slid his tongue around the tip. The way he did that, the rough with the gentle, drove her mad some days … and most nights.
“Is that what you think I really want? You spread out and waiting for me? No other thought in your head other than how you can please me?”
“That’s what every man wants.”
“Then every man can find that. I want more.” He took her entire finger into his mouth and sucked it, his tongue still playing with the tip, his eyes studying her closely.
She watched him, her stomach twisting into knots, her knees weakening. “You always want more,” she told him, panting a little.
He nodded while leisurely drawing her finger from his mouth. “You’re right. And so do you. Do you really think you’ll be satisfied going back to the life you had? After all this? Pretending to be the good daughter while performing the role of a battle lord in secret?” His voice dropped lower, the huskiness making her ni**les ache for his mouth. “Finding a husband and pretending to be a good wife, while at night you dream of me. Cream for me. Long for me. Your hands not nearly able to do what my mouth can.”
“Is that all you’re offering me, Defiler? Your skills in bed?”
“No.” He turned her hand over and stroked his fingers across her palm and up her forearm. Even with her gown covering her skin, she still felt him as if she were completely naked. “I’m offering a partnership.”
“A partnership?” she asked, making sure to sound bored. “You mean as in business?”
He sniffed in disdain, his hand still stroking her forearm but now moving up to her shoulder, her neck. “Don’t insult me. Business bores me and as dragon I simply take what I want. There are caravans of gold, supplies, and jewels just waiting for me. They’re no better than the blond who just ran out of here and equally as satisfying. I have my sights on much bigger prizes than that.”
“And you need me for that, do you?”
“For a good game, the right partner is paramount. I can only imagine what we can do together, Beast, both our families underestimating our skills. The world our playpen.”
“And if I get bored with the game?” Since after two hundred years she felt confident he wouldn’t.
“That won’t happen. You’re addicted to it as I am. You love the challenge. Your brain turns with the possibilities the idiots of the world offer us. As I’ve been waiting for you, you’ve been waiting for me. And we both know it.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“So are you. And there’s no shame with confidence. It’s conceit and stupidity that get you killed.”
“But if I don’t love you—”
“Don’t lie to me, Dagmar.” Now both his hands were stroking her shoulders, her neck. She frowned as the rash she still had on her neck began to itch a little worse and wondered if it was rude to ask him to scratch it for her.