How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

by G. A. Aiken

  Fearghus looked up from his book and watched his mate pace back and forth in front of him. He’d brought them to his cave tonight because he could tell she’d needed some time away from life at Garbhán Isle. Dark Plains was their refuge and, if he was to be honest, the refuge for those at Garbhán Isle when their human queen became . . . tense.

  And Annwyl had been getting tenser and tenser every day for quite a few months now. Not that he blamed her. He knew what had her worried and he was equally as worried, but he was also realistic.

  There were just some things they could do nothing about.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in that rock floor.”

  She stopped and faced him. “Why aren’t you worried? Why don’t you care? This seems to be your precious daughter they’re targeting.”

  “They’re not targeting—”

  “What would you call it? Seducing?”

  Fearghus sighed and set his book aside. He lowered his head so that it rested on the inside of his claw while he tapped the talons of the other.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  “I’m waiting for you to have your explosion of rage, so that when you’re done, I can talk to you like a rational dragon. I gave up long ago trying to talk over your screaming, my love.”

  She folded her arms under her chest. “They’re trying to steal our daughter from us, Fearghus.”

  “You know as well as I that no one can make Talwyn do anything she doesn’t want to do. That includes the Kyvich.”

  “They’re trying to lure her away from the safety of her people. Away from her brother and cousin.”

  “Away from you, you mean?”

  “I’m the only one who can protect her!” Annwyl bellowed, pointing at herself. “There’s no one else who can protect her like I can!”

  “You mean besides Talwyn herself?”

  “I knew you’d throw that in my face.”

  “You were the one who taught her to protect herself. You also taught the boy.”

  “Can’t you call him by his name?”

  “He irritated me today.”

  “He irritates you every day.”

  “Do you expect me to argue that point?”

  “You know, our son really does—”

  “Does? Does what?”

  “Tolerate you more than others.”

  “Thank you. I find that comforting when I wake up from an afternoon nap and find him hovering over me like an angel of death.”

  “You’re being paranoid. But let’s be honest.”

  “Oh, please let’s.”

  “Talan is my son and Talwyn is your daughter.”

  “Which means?”

  “That you should be the one to talk to her.”

  “I have.”

  Annwyl stepped closer. “And?”

  “She didn’t tell me anything she hasn’t already told you. But I know her, Annwyl. There’s something going on.”

  “I knew it!”

  “But there’s nothing to be done. She’s stubborn and contrary and determined . . . just like her mum. So I wouldn’t bother arguing with her.”

  “I am not contrary.”

  His eyes crossed and he rolled onto his back. “Of course you’re not.”

  “I heard sarcasm in that statement.”

  “Perhaps.” He motioned to her. “Come here, luv.”

  Annwyl walked closer until she reached his open claw. She climbed onto that, then up his arm and onto his chest until she could stretch out stomach down, her head right under his snout. As always, she showed no fear of his dragonform.

  “You know,” he reasoned, “instead of sitting around, worrying about things that may or may not be happening, why don’t you go do something that you might enjoy?”

  She planted her hands against his chest and lifted herself up enough that she could look him in the eye. Then she grinned.

  “I meant something relaxing with the children.”

  “Oh.” She lowered herself back down.

  “What I plan to do to you tonight will only be relaxing after we’re done.”

  “Good to know.” Annwyl laughed and stroked her hands across his scales, something that Fearghus had always adored. “All right, so what should I do with the children? As it is, they’re never around.”

  “Plan something for tomorrow, so they don’t have time to come up with an excuse, and start with Rhi. She always ropes in the other two. And bring that pale boy who’s been lurking around.”

  “His name’s Frederik, and from what I hear he’ll be staying for a while.”

  “Perfect. Take them for a picnic or something.”

  “Will you come?”

  “I’m off to Devenallt Mountain tomorrow with Gwenvael and Briec to meet with Bercelak.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No, not at all. Just time to look at Mum’s armies and see if we should be doing anything different. At least that’s the plan. What it really ends up being is Dad and Briec arguing, me sighing a lot, and Gwenvael pissing Dad off so much that at some point he has to duck a tail to the eye. To be honest, I’d rather be on a picnic with the pale boy.”

  Annwyl rested her chin on her raised fist. “No Éibhear?”

  “No Éibhear what?”

  “He’s not coming to this meeting?”

  “Why should he? He’s not in Mum’s army. He’s a Mì-runach.”

  “I really don’t know what that means, although you all say it with that mix of disgust and horror in your voices.”

  “It means he’s a violent bastard that can’t be trusted around the army. So, no. He won’t be there.”

  “Personally, I think you’re all too hard on him. You’re still treating him like a baby. He’s a grown dragon now, Fearghus. Quite matured.”

  “Yeah,” Fearghus snorted, not really seeing it. “Right. Quite matured.”

  Izzy reached out blindly, her hand pressing against the stone wall of the room she always slept in any time she’d come to visit her Uncle Bram with Brannie. But to be honest, at this moment, she really had no idea where she was, why she was here, or even what her name was. At this moment, all she knew was that it was a stone wall her hand was pressing against and the biggest, most talented cock she’d ever had inside her was making her come. Again.

  Her toes curled, and her hard breaths turned into a short scream, her body tightening around the male currently on top of her, kissing her, fucking her.

  She hadn’t known it would be like this. She’d dreamed it would be like this, but she’d never thought it actually would be. Too many times, Izzy, Brannie, and often Brannie’s sisters talked about the potential some male had one day and the sad disappointment he turned out to be the next. Sometimes, one of them might be pleasantly surprised or damn happy. But this?

  Gods, this . . .

  Izzy tore her mouth away from Éibhear’s because she couldn’t breathe, that orgasm still ripping through her system. But pulling away was a mistake because Éibhear took the opportunity to nip the side of her neck. Something that she secretly adored. And, gods, once he’d discovered that, if she didn’t find other uses for his mouth, he drove her insane with the gods-damn nipping.

  Whimpering, her body shaking, Izzy felt Éibhear bite down on a spot right beneath her ear and somehow, some way, the bastard got another orgasm out of her when the last one hadn’t quite finished.

  As Izzy screamed out again, she was so glad that when this was all over, they wouldn’t be talking about it. They wouldn’t be analyzing it. Because if she thought about any of this too much, she’d end up back where she started at sixteen. Head over boots for a big blue bastard with gorgeous blue hair who couldn’t make up his bloody mind about what he wanted.

  Izzy cried out again, her amazing legs tightening around his waist. Éibhear’s eyes crossed at the grip her legs had on him. He’d never known a female, human or dragoness, who had legs as strong as Izzy. Legs that held him so tight he was posit
ive he saw stars.

  He reached over and caught hold of the hand Izzy had pressed to the wall and pinned it against the bed. She whimpered when he did that. Gods, he loved when she whimpered. Just the sound of it made his toes curl.

  Between the whimpering, the panting, the incredibly strong thighs, and the way her pussy gripped his cock like the tightest fist he’d ever felt, Éibhear could say, with all honesty, that this was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

  He knew that now because he realized he’d been right all those years ago about Izzy. He might have been young, but he’d never been stupid, and he’d known from the beginning that she was trouble. Trouble wrapped up in long legs and a bright smile. Of course, it was even worse now because he felt no guilt. None. The longer he stayed inside her—and he had every intention of staying inside her all night—the less he cared about anyone or anything except what was happening between them at this moment.

  So what if his brother thought of Izzy as his daughter? So what if all of Éibhear’s kin considered her a niece, a cousin, a grandchild? So what if she was the most feared general in all the territories? So what if she had feet as big as Annwyl’s? Who cared? He didn’t. Not anymore.

  Éibhear pulled his mouth away from her neck and Izzy leaned up, pressed her forehead against his chin, then brought her mouth up and bit his jaw. At the same time, she tightened her pussy so that he came hard, his entire body pinning her to the bed as he continued to fuck her until he was dry.

  He clung to her for a bit before he finally rolled off. Both of them covered in sweat and panting, they lay there for a good ten minutes until Izzy finally admitted, “You know . . . still not out of my system.”

  “Good,” Éibhear said as he rolled back on top of her, pushed his still hard cock inside her, and gasped out, “Because it sure as battle-fuck ain’t out of mine.”

  Chapter 20

  “Wake up.”

  Éibhear turned over and snuggled back into the covers. He wasn’t ready to face the day yet and he definitely wasn’t ready to face the wrath of Izzy. He had a feeling it was coming. After their amazing night together, he was prepared for her not to be able to face the morning. But she wouldn’t put him off. Not forever.

  “Get up,” Izzy pushed. “We have company.”

  Éibhear rolled to his back. Izzy stood by the open stained-glass window. She was freshly bathed and dressed, her wet hair combed off her face. She must have gone to the lake behind the castle.

  “Who?”

  She shook her head. “No idea. But they’re armed. A small squad. Don’t see any colors, though.” She glanced at him. “They look like a protection unit.”

  “They could be here for Bram.” He pushed the fur covering off and got up, walking naked over to the window to stand beside Izzy. She smelled wonderful. He wanted to kiss her good morning but decided against it. He wasn’t really in the mood to be pushed away at the moment.

  “Do you recognize them?” Izzy asked.

  “No.” He leaned in, sniffed the air. He smelled flame and power. “They’re dragons.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “But no one you recognize?” He shook his head and Izzy looked back at the small group of riders on horses, long brown capes and fur hoods covering their faces and bodies.

  Izzy slid her foot under her sheathed sword, which was lying on the floor, and flipped it up into her hand. “I’ll take the ground, you take the air.”

  He nodded. “I’ll meet you outside then.”

  Izzy slipped out the side door of Bram’s castle. The previous evening, Éibhear had closed and barred the front door that led to the hall, and if she opened it, she’d give away her presence.

  As Izzy eased out into the brisk morning air, she heard a soft “moof ” behind her and looked to see Macsen crawling up to her feet. Her dog had amazing instincts. Like a wolf, he knew when to keep to the shadows and when to attack. It helped when she was involved in night raids.

  Body tense, he waited by her side, waiting for her signal. Izzy motioned with her hand, indicating he should stay by her side and low. With that order given, she crept forward, listening for anything that would tell her someone was coming from behind. She reached the end of the building and peeked around the corner. Now that she was a bit closer, she could see that these riders were trying their best to look like a small traveling party. The clothes under their capes were plain, not too expensive but not too poor. Yet she still saw that nearly all of them had weapons. A lot of weapons. And the way some of the riders moved . . . definitely soldiers.

  At the front, two riders—leaders by their demeanor—looked around and one of them finally gestured to the others. Dismounting their horses, three other riders started to set off, but one of the leaders held up a gloved hand—a female, Izzy guessed from the slightly smaller frame under the hooded cloak—and stopped the men. Even though Izzy couldn’t see the female’s face, she could tell that she was studying the front of the building. Izzy took a small step and saw that Éibhear was . . . well . . . he was standing on the front of the building in his dragonform. She’d seen him do that sort of thing before but it still fascinated her. Considering their size, dragons didn’t seem to have too many issues with gravity.

  But what concerned Izzy at the moment was that the female seemed to be able to see him. Or, at the very least, sense him. Yet Izzy had seen Morfyd, a powerful white Dragonwitch, look right past her baby brother, unaware she was practically walking on his head.

  Éibhear moved the slightest bit and the head under the cloak jerked. Perhaps she heard him. Perhaps she didn’t. Izzy didn’t know. She heard the female take in a breath, a sure sign she was about to unleash her flame. Something that didn’t worry Izzy. Although fire dragons could use their flame against their own kind to shove or batter, the flames themselves could do no damage. Southland dragons were made of fire and their scales were an added protection.

  But before the female unleashed her flame, the hood of her cloak slipped back and Izzy immediately recognized her. Recognized her and knew what that particular female’s flame could do to one blue dragon who had absolutely no idea of what was about to hit him.

  He felt confident the dragoness couldn’t see him, but she did sense him. Could be she was a witch of some kind. His mother and sister Morfyd belonged to one of the most powerful breeds of Dragonwitches, but there were others at different levels of power. Still, it really didn’t worry him. Instead he just waited to see what she’d do, and when he heard her take in a deep breath, he became even less concerned. Because of his size, some dragon’s flame wasn’t even going to knock him off the building, much less harm him. Yet as the dragoness leaned forward in her saddle, the hood of her cloak dropping back to reveal a very pretty human face, Izzy’s scream from the far side of the building shocked them all.

  “Agrippina! No!”

  The She-dragon’s head snapped around and the flame she was going to unleash on Éibhear was instead directed at Izzy. The flame was so powerful, Éibhear reared back and the stones that made up that part of Bram’s castle broke apart and melted. She made stones melt.

  Éibhear had never seen anything like it, but he didn’t have time to analyze any of that because Izzy had been standing there two seconds before.

  Pushing off from the building, Éibhear unfurled his wings and raced around the damaged building.

  “Izzy!” he bellowed. “Izzy! Answer me!”

  “I’m here!” She stood, appearing from behind a large boulder. He’d forgotten how fast Izzy could move, but he was grateful for it.

  He landed beside her, the land shaking.

  “Are you all right?”

  Tears streamed down her face and she shook her head. “Macsen.”

  The dog? She was sobbing over that dog.

  She pointed to the smoldering remains of melted stone and seared wood beams. “He was standing over there,” she said around sobs. “I thought he was right beside me.”

  Éibhear
discreetly sniffed the air and, aye. He smelled burnt dog fur. Best not to say that, though.

  “I’m sorry, Izzy. I know he meant a lot to you, but we have other things to worry about—”

  “Macsen!”

  Éibhear blinked and watched Izzy push past him and over to a pile of still burning debris. And dragging himself out from under that debris came Izzy’s dog. With his dirty, matted fur burning in some spots, the big beast stumbled away from the debris and toward Izzy. But he suddenly stopped, dropped, and rolled around in the dirt for a bit. When Izzy reached him, the fire on his body was out and with a good shake, all that dirt went flying, making Izzy laugh. Then she dropped to her knees and hugged that disgusting, bizarre beast.

  “You poor thing! Are you all right?”

  “Izzy!” Éibhear snapped. “We have much bigger concerns than your gods-damn devil dog!”

  “Iseabail?” another voice asked and Éibhear saw one of the riders standing at what was left of the corner of the building. It was a voice Éibhear didn’t recognize.

  The rider pulled the hood of his cloak back, long, dark silver hair spilling out, and . . . an eye patch. The dragon wore an eye patch.

  Izzy looked up from that slobbering beast who didn’t seem to be hurt at all after being on fire and crushed under all that debris, and her smile was so wide and bright that Éibhear just assumed it was because she was happy her dog was safe. But then she released the dog and charged over to the one-eyed dragon, launching herself into his arms.

  “Gaius!” she crowed. And that’s when Éibhear knew that this was Gaius Lucius Domitus—the Rebel King of the Quintilian Provinces. An Iron dragon descended from the enemies of the Southland dragons and the bastard who liked to send books with strange notes to Izzy. A dragon Iseabail the Dangerous was currently hugging.

  Bugger.

  “What are you doing here?” Izzy asked as she stepped back. It had been years since Izzy saw Gaius last, but that had never mattered. Their friendship had been forged in the blood-filled ending of the Quintilian Overlord Thracius. Since that time, Gaius had worked to take full rule over the Quintilian Provinces, but Thracius’s daughter and a son or two still lived and still caused problems. Great problems. And there were many who felt any of Thracius’s offspring were the rightful heirs to the throne. If that meant getting rid of Gaius, they’d be more than happy to make that happen.