G.A. Aiken Dragon Bundle: The Dragon Who Loved Me, What a Dragon Should Know, Last Dragon Standing & How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (117 page)

“And what purpose would that have served?”

Keita closed her eyes, trying hard to control her rage. “They approached me
here
, Ragnar, with my kin no more than a few hundred feet away.”

“You need to get control,” he said calmly. “You need to remember why we’re doing this. Why we’re taking this risk.”

Ragnar was right. If she let her rage loose now, she could ruin everything. Gillivray and Lailoken were minor players in this game. Puppets, who would probably be killed long before any real fighting began. She didn’t think they wanted war either, but that’s what would happen before Queen Rhiannon ever gave up her throne. Yet Keita still held out hope that she could stop a war. That she could stop the Irons. That she could stop them all.

It took her a moment, but she realized her breathing had returned to normal, her hands no longer clenched tight, and her body no longer shaking.

Ragnar also held her now, his arm around her waist, his cheek pressed into the back of her head. He’d soothed her growing rage with only that.

“You need to tell your mother,” Ragnar reminded her.

“Not yet.”

“Keita, you promised.”

“I know, but I was actually lying to her.”

“You’re going to test her patience.”

“My mother has no patience. But I do. We wait to tell her. This has not played out yet, warlord. Not yet.”

Finally smiling, she reminded him, “I made you promises for tonight.”

“And they can wait.”

Understanding deep in her soul that time was short, she knew that nothing that could ever mean anything to her could wait.

Keita turned in his arms, her body much too close. Too close if he was going to be the bigger dragon here.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said.

“I’m known for being very sweet.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I could be.”

“No, you couldn’t.” She giggled. “But I like you despite all that.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know.”

Her hands slid around his waist, her leg wrapping around his calf. “You hold yourself back from me.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Why give you everything when you made it clear you will not take it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand you Lightnings. The first female you meet, you’re ready to settle down and have little hatchlings with.”

“No, Keita.” He brought his hands up and cradled her face. “It’s not that easy. You are hardly the first female I’ve met. Definitely not the first female I’ve bedded. But you are the first who’s truly caught my interest. Who’s truly enticed me.”

“It won’t last. Every male gets bored.”

“For Lightnings, life is too hard to allow for boredom. And only a fool would get bored around the females we’ve been known to choose. One gets bored, one lets one’s guard down—and wakes up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a missing back claw.”

“That’s a lovely story.”

“Tragically, for one of my cousins…it’s a fact.”

She snorted, briefly buried her head into his chest. “As entertaining a fact as that is, I’m thinking of you.”

“Are you?”

She patted his shoulder and stepped over to a nearby tree. “I can’t do it, you see.”

“You can’t do what?”

“Allow myself to be held captive, chained against my will, forced to live a life of lies.”

“Most of us just called that Claimed. Humans call it marriage.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“What can you do?”

“Besides be beautiful?”

“You’re much more than that, Keita.”

She smirked. “I never thought I’d hear you speak those words, warlord.”

“How could I not?” he asked, stepping to her, watching as she took an immediate step back. She never backed down if someone was complimenting her beauty or her latest gown or threatening her with deadly physical harm. But his simple words practically had her running off into the dark forest behind them. “Every day you play a dangerous game with your kin, your mother’s enemies, your mother’s court. Every day you do all you can to protect the throne of your people, and protect your siblings from themselves.” That made her giggle, even as she backed another step away from him. “And every day you show a caring for those around you without any of that unattractive weakness that annoys me beyond all reason.”

“Éibhear isn’t weak.”

“Even now you protect the weakest of your Horde.”

“We don’t have Hordes, and Éibhear is not the weakest. I mean, he’s not weak at all.” Her back slammed into the tree behind her, and she stamped her foot. “Honestly! You’re so mean to him.”

“Convince me to be nice.”

“Blackmail is so unbecoming to a dragon.”

“That’s not really blackmail. More like coercion,” he teased, pressing his hands against the tree behind her, blocking her in. “And we Northlanders pride ourselves on being bullying scum when it’s necessary.” He leaned in, kissed her. Such a soft mouth and such a talented tongue.

Her hands reached up, clutched his jaw. And Ragnar knew he’d no longer be able to fight this.

Keita didn’t know what to do with this dragon. He made no demands, except relatively logical ones. He promised her nothing, and gave nothing to her but himself. It wasn’t fair. How was she to fight this? How was she to stay true to herself when he insisted on seeing her as no one else did?

He pulled out of their kiss and slowly dropped to his knees in front of her.

A move she didn’t feel was fair at all, considering.

He pushed her gown up until he had it at her waist. “You’re always naked under your clothes,” he observed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.

Grinning, he pressed his mouth to her stomach, her hips, her mound, the inside of her thighs. Once he had her squirming, he placed his mouth on her pussy and slid his tongue inside.

Keita’s groan was long and louder than she intended. She didn’t care. It felt too good.

He thrust his tongue in and out, getting her wet, making her tremble like the virgin she had been a really long time ago. Then he dragged his tongue out, skimming up until he could swirl it around her clit.

When Keita felt her knees give, she gripped the back of Ragnar’s head and pulled him away, yanking him off. Desperate, panting, she pushed him to the ground and climbed on top of him, dropping her pussy over his mouth while she heaved his cock out of his leggings and wrapped her mouth around it. She felt his growl against her skin, enjoyed the way his hands gripped her hips. He held her tight while he sucked her clit between his lips and whipped it with his tongue.

That’s when Keita called up the lightest of heat to warm his cock, and felt his fingers digging even deeper into her skin. She smiled around the thick flesh in her mouth, pushing the warlord to give her everything he had.

Ragnar knew this game. The who-can-get-the-other-off-faster game. It was a matter of pride with her, wasn’t it? Didn’t she yet realize he had no intention of giving in that easy?

He suckled on her clit, relentlessly tugging at it until he heard her grunt each time. Then he released one hip and slapped his hand across her ass. Keita’s head snapped up, his cock tragically slipping from her mouth, her voice crying out, her body convulsing on top of his.

He drew out her orgasm by slipping two fingers inside her pussy and keeping his lips working her clit. When he knew he’d wrung her dry, at least for the moment, he lifted her off him and got to his knees.

She was panting, gazing up at him. He caught hold of her gown and lifted it off her head, tossing it over her shoulder, the fine silk landing in the dirt. When she didn’t even notice, he had to fight hard not to smile. He practically tore his leggings off the rest of the way, stripping as fast as he could. Then he turned her away from him, both of them still on their knees, and sunk into her pussy from behind.

Her head fell back against his chest, and he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue, inside his mouth. He stroked his cock inside her, his eyes nearly crossing at the way she clenched her muscles each time he pulled out, taking all of him with a smile and a groan when he slammed back in.

She caught hold of one of the hands he had gripping her waist, lowering it until his fingers were on her pussy, his forefinger teasing her clit. He loved how she showed him what she wanted, took what she needed.

His thrusts became more brutal, his teeth nipping at the side of her neck. He matched the tempo of his cock with that of the finger on her clit. Her hands clutched his, the nails digging into his skin.

He gave her what she wanted. He gave her everything, pounding into her until she screamed his name and he whispered hers. He emptied his seed inside her, and nothing had ever felt more amazing to him before—and he’d moved a mountain once.

Still on their knees, both of them gasping, sweating, clinging to each other, they said nothing. There was nothing to say. But when she gave him that kiss on the cheek, the sweetest kiss he’d ever known, he knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d found a way to keep Princess Keita forever.

“She met with them near one of the empty guard houses.”

“Did you hear what was said?”

“No. That Northlander was lurking about, and we didn’t want to be seen.”

“He was following her?”

Her lieutenant sneered. “I wouldn’t worry. When she was done betraying her mother, she fucked that Lightning like a well-paid barmaid.”

“There’s not much difference between the two.”

“Do you want us to pick up Gillivray and Lailoken tonight?”

“No.” She walked around the dragon. “First we deal with Her Majesty.
Then
we deal with those two.”

“Are you sure about this?” her lieutenant asked. “Her mother is the queen.”

“And she’s a traitor. News about her and Esyld is spreading through the town like flame on dry wood. We need to make an example of her now before it’s too late. Nothing else matters.”

The lieutenant nodded, but before walking off he said, “By the way…that’s a nice eye patch.”

It crossed Elestren’s mind to tear
both
the bastard’s eyes out, but she’d wait to unleash all that rage on Keita the Traitor, Giver of Ridiculous Eye Patches.

Ragnar woke up when he heard the snuffling. He smiled. “Good morn to you.”

The mare brushed her muzzle against his head, giving him her blessing, before she lazily moved on to the next bit of grass nearby. Although Ragnar had woken up like this before, surrounded by mares and their yearlings, he’d never managed to wake up like this with a dragoness by his side. But this time was different. This was Keita, and she had her own entourage—all of them stallions. And all of them watching Ragnar closely.

Eventually Keita stirred on her own, brown eyes slowly opening, arms stretching wide.

“And good morn to you too.” He kissed her forehead, felt her hand stroke his cheek. “Feeling better?”

“Aye. My rage has turned to cold determination.”

“Then the world should quake in fear.”

“Sarcasm so early in the morning?”

He brushed her hair from her face. “That wasn’t sarcasm. It was honesty. I’ll admit I misread you in the beginning, Keita, but I’ll not make that mistake again.”

Her hand slid around to the back of his neck. “And I thought I’d be so bored with you by now.”

“I’m so glad I was able to disappoint you on that.”

“So am I,” she whispered, pulling herself up, her lips mere millimeters from his. Ragnar closed his eyes, waited for that kiss. When it didn’t happen, he opened his eyes and realized she was staring off at the horses.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.” She looked at him, blinked. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What?”

“We all are!” She scrambled away from him, quickly grabbing up her gown and yanking it over her head.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I’ll catch up with you later!” she yelled at him, already running toward the castle, the stallions watching her go while the mares pushed their yearlings out of the way.

He stood, his cock hard and already dripping. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this!”

“Use your hand!” she said before she disappeared over a small hill.

“Exactly where are you taking us?”

“Oh, shut up,” Keita ordered her sister, tired of her asking the same damn question over and over. Rousing the females out of bed and away from their mates had been a task of its own—except for Dagmar, who’d already been up and “plotting” as Gwenvael put it, which was true enough since rumors about Keita and Esyld had already begun to spread—but getting them to follow her several miles into the forest on the other side of the eastern fields took all her cajoling skills.

Keita felt a hand swipe at her hair, and she spun around, her own hands open and slapping at her sister until Annwyl reached between them and shoved them apart.

“Give it a rest!” she barked. “You two are worse than the twins.”

Keita tugged her dress back into place. “This won’t take long. I promise.” Then she added with a little snarl, “I’m trying to help!”

“Then help,” Talaith said. “We’re right behind you.”

Wanting to be done with this, Keita ignored her sister and continued on. When she reached a high ridge that looked over the Deep Canyons, she stopped.

“What are we looking at?” Talaith asked.

From out of the line of trees on the low plain surrounding the canyons, wild horses raced forth. They were all beautiful and free, tearing across the countryside, unencumbered by being beasts of burden for men or dinner for dragons.

“Horses?” Annwyl scratched her head. “I have a horse.”

“Wait,” Morfyd said, stepping next to Keita, “this won’t work.”

“Have you even tried, Princess Doubt?”

“Only Mother can summon them, and she told me she wouldn’t.”

“Why do you wait for her?”

“She’s our mother and queen of these lands. Should I go against her?”

“Have you not learned it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

“That’s how you and Gwenvael survive. I can’t live like that. Besides, if you summon them and you piss them off, Keita, they’ll tear these humans to bits.”

“On that note…” Dagmar turned to leave, but Keita caught her arm.

“Leave it to me.”

Keita released Dagmar and stepped to the very top of the ridge. She’d hoped she could get Morfyd to do this. As heir to their mother’s Magickal power if not her throne, she would most likely have an easier time of it. But Keita had learned a long time ago to wait for no one, especially her easily frightened sister.

Breathing in a huge amount of air, Keita threw her head back and opened her mouth. A line of flame exploded out of her and charred the tops of some trees, fire filling the sky above. When she felt her point had been made, Keita cut off the flame and returned her gaze to the horses. And, from amidst the shiny and moving horseflesh, they appeared, splitting off from the herd they ran with and charging toward the five females.

“Holy—” Annwyl began.

“—shit,” Talaith finished.

“Let me speak.” Keita moved them all back from the ridge and decided more specific directions were needed. “Actually, Talaith, feel free to connect with them as witch. Morfyd, if you won’t help, at least don’t complain. Dagmar, if you feel you can help, please do. Annwyl…say
nothing
.”

“How come I don’t—”

“Nothing.”

“But I’m—”

“Absolutely
nothing
!” Keita snarled. When Annwyl pouted but no longer argued, Keita looked back at those who raced toward them. The centaurs. One of the few beings dragons showed only respect to and never dreamed of hunting for food or amusement. They came over the ridge and drew to a restless halt about twenty feet away.

Keita gave a small bow of her head. “My ladies. My lords.”

“You are dragon, but you are not the queen,” a male told her. “And you dare summon us?”

“Told you,” Morfyd whispered.

“Shut up!” Keita snapped back

“Perhaps you were not warned that we are not to be fooled with, lizard,” the centaur continued.

“My gracious lord, please,” Keita said, ignoring the insult. “If you’d only give me a minute to explain—”

“Keita?” An older female moved out of the small herd and walked up to the group, hooves lightly tapping the ground as she moved. “By the gods…it is you.”

“Bríghid?” Keita grinned, relief flooding through her. “Oh, Bríghid!”

The female opened her arms and leaned down a bit, allowing Keita to run right into them.

“I don’t believe it,” Bríghid said, stroking Keita’s hair and kissing her forehead. “Look how you’ve grown.”

“The last we heard about you,” Keita said, “you’d moved down to the Alsandair borders.”

“I gave my heart to the wrong centaur, so I returned to my herd.” She pushed Keita back and took her face in her hands. “Gods, Keita. You’re actually more beautiful. How is that possible?”

“Excellent bloodline.”

Bríghid laughed. “That’s my Keita.” She looked at the group again. “Morfyd?”

“Hello, Bríghid.”

Bríghid held her hand out for Morfyd, and Keita’s sister took it. The pair embraced before Bríghid said, “My girls. How beautiful you both are.” She kissed them both on the top of their heads. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about both of you. I’ve always been so proud.”

Keita, knowing it would annoy her sister, added a smirk to highlight Bríghid’s words. Morfyd bared a fang, and instantly Bríghid grew tense.

“Still fighting?” And the warning was in her voice. As it had always been.

“No, ma’am,” they immediately said.

“Good. Now.” Bríghid stepped back, studied them both. “Neither of you are your mother, nor have you replaced her on the throne. So what has you risking my annoyance and the annoyance of my herd?”

Since Bríghid’s “annoyance” was often more vicious than her rage, Keita quickly explained, “You know I would not have risked this beautiful hide of mine had I not desperately needed your assistance.”

“You?” Bríghid asked. “Or her?”

When Bríghid’s gaze locked on Annwyl, the queen’s hand immediately moved to her sword, but Dagmar slapped Annwyl’s hand away, eliciting a whined “Ow!” from the brave, deadly queen.

“This is Fearghus’s mate.”

“She who bore the twins,” Bríghid went on. “The twins who should not exist.”

“But they do. And, although they are human in body, they are dragon in spirit.”

Bríghid snorted. “The humans can’t handle them, eh?”

“The nannies run away.”

“Can’t their mother care for them?”

Annwyl, always easily insulted, stepped forward, but Dagmar jumped in front of her. “The queen, of course, does what she can. But she has a kingdom to run. A kingdom to keep safe. You and your herd, as you call it, are free to run through these lands as you like, my lady, because Annwyl is queen and has no desire to enslave you. Would you prefer someone else take her place who may not be as…open minded? I believe that hunting your kind was a favorite sport of her father’s at one time.”

Eyes narrowing, Bríghid pushed Keita and Morfyd aside and walked forward, hooves now stomping on the ground, until she stood before Dagmar and Annwyl. Leaning in, she brought her face close to Dagmar’s and asked, “Do you know what I am, human?”

Keita watched her brother’s mate closely. For such a tiny thing, she showed no fear. Instead, she leaned around a bit and said, “Based on the large horse’s ass attached to you”—Dagmar moved back, her gaze fixed on Bríghid’s—“I’m going to go with centaur.”

Bríghid, straightening up, folded her arms over her bare chest. “And who are you?”

Years from now, they’d never know why they did it, but before Dagmar could say a word, their small group recited as one, “She’s Dagmar Reinholdt. Thirteenth Offspring of The Reinholdt, Only Daughter of The Reinholdt, Chief Battle Lord of Dark Plains, Adviser to Queen Annwyl, Human Liaison to the Southland Dragon Elders, and mate to Prince Gwenvael the Handsome.”

“She’s also known as The Beast,” Talaith tossed in for good measure.

And it was The Beast who turned on them. “Was that
really
necessary?”

It was only a glimpse, but Keita saw the brief smile on Bríghid’s face. The centaur quickly hid it and said, “At three thousand and eight winters, I am much too old to be running around, chasing
somewhat
human children.”

Keita remembered well how stubborn Bríghid could be. Especially once she’d made up her mind. If she put her hoof down now, there would be no going back. Desperate, she quickly looked to her sister, and Morfyd said, “Of course you deserve your time to relax, Bríghid.”

Wondering how her sister could be so stupid, Keita lifted her hands and mouthed,
What are you doing
?

Morfyd mouthed back,
Shut up!
She placed her hand on Bríghid’s hip, where her human form met her horse form. “But perhaps you have someone you can recommend. Someone Fearghus will trust as he would trust you. Someone who—”

“I’ll do it.” Bríghid’s body tensed as a young female separated from the herd. “I’ll do it.”

“Princess Keita, Princess Morfyd, Queen Annwyl…this is my daughter, Eadburga. We call her Ebba for short. She’s my fifth oldest and—”

“I’ll do it.”

“And apparently quite eager to leave the herd.” Bríghid leaned over and said low in her daughter’s ear, “Although I hope you’re leaving for the right reasons.”

“I am.”

Bríghid straightened up. “You commit to this, Ebba, you are to stay and help raise the children until they are of age. For humans that’s at least their eighteenth winter. My commitment to the Dragon Queen was much longer, but I made it and stuck by it. You agree to this, you swear to the same as I’ll not have you bring shame to this herd by flitting off.”

“I have nowhere to flit to.” Ebba’s tail flicked nervously against her back. “Let me do this, Mum. We both know I’m ready.”

“Perhaps you are.” Bríghid kissed her daughter’s brow and nuzzled her jaw. She stepped back and, after clearing her throat, said, “Let’s see this queen.”

Keita motioned to Dagmar to move, but she shook her head.
Damn difficult humans!

Keita reached over and yanked Dagmar out of the way. Bríghid motioned to Annwyl with a crook of her finger, and the queen approached. Bríghid examined Annwyl for several long moments, her expression getting darker and darker the more she looked.

“What’s wrong?” Keita asked.

Bríghid stared at Annwyl and asked, “Do I know you?”

Dagmar whispered against Keita’s ear, “By all ancient reason, she killed one of them once, didn’t she?”

Ragnar walked in to the Great Hall. Although none of the royals were up, his brother and cousin were already at the dining table eating.

“Where have you been?” Vigholf asked once Ragnar sat down and reached for bread.

“Out.”

“What’s wrong, brother? Did Her Majesty leave you all to your lonesome last night?”

In answer, Ragnar grabbed the back of Vigholf’s head and slammed it into the table.

Curses and blood oaths followed, but Ragnar ignored them, instead choosing to dig in to the bowl of hot porridge placed in front of him by a servant.

“I thought you’d want to know,” Meinhard said to Ragnar.

“Know what?”

“Heard some of those Cadwaladrs talking outside earlier this morning—they know about Keita and Esyld. I didn’t know what they were talking about until one of their females cornered me, and asked about our trip here through Outerplains.”

“And?”

“I told her everything—mostly. Figured that’s what you’d want. But you should have warned us beforehand.”

“You’re right,” Ragnar admitted. “Sorry.”

Meinhard watched him for a time, until Ragnar demanded, “What?”

“So when you going to tell her?”

“Tell who what?”

“Keita. Tell her that she’s yours?”

“If I really want her to be mine?” Ragnar sighed. “Never.”

When Bríghid combed her fingers through the left side of Annwyl’s hair, Keita thought she’d have to shift, grab the human queen, and make a desperate run for it.

“When I met you,” Bríghid remarked, “this wasn’t here.”

Annwyl shrugged, her gaze focused on something far past Bríghid’s arm. “My brother had shaved it off the night before.”