by Lucy Monroe
Still, the raven watching her rather than the dragon did not explain everything. “Why not expose my behavior if you disapproved of it so much?”
“Who is this?” he asked, indicating Mairi and ignoring Ciara’s query altogether.
For some reason, Ciara found herself moving between the two to block Mairi’s view of the Éan shifter in all his naked glory. “A human woman seeking sanctuary.”
Mairi made a sound that could be taken for disagreement.
“You do not want sanctuary from the Sinclair?” Eirik asked, sounding nonplussed.
Ciara would have hugged Mairi for confusing the bossy dragon except to do so would probably cause pain for the other woman.
“I do not wish to cause war between the two clans, but there are facts I must make your laird aware of. When the Sinclair realizes the likely consequences of taking me in, I’m sure he won’t offer sanctuary. But perhaps I could see my hurts tended to?”
“I told you, Laird Talorc will not fear your father.” And Ciara wasn’t letting Mairi go back to the evil Chrechte, not ever.
That settled in her own mind at least, she turned on Eirik. “You should leave.”
“You need my help if you hope to get the human woman into the keep this night to have her injuries tended to.”
Ciara opened her mouth to deny it, but then snapped it shut. She could go to the gatehouse and call for the bridge to be let down. Only if she did that, everyone would know she’d been outside the walls at night against the laird’s orders. The night guards would be punished for her actions.
Laird Talorc would look a fool to the clan because others would see the situation as Ciara successfully defying him…once again, when that had not been her intention at all. She never would have left the keep if she’d thought there was even a remote chance she would be caught outside the walls.
It was just that her dreams drove her beyond endurance.
Regardless, Ciara could not ignore Mairi’s plight. The other woman was in far too fragile a state to risk waiting for morning to sneak back inside the keep.
“How are you going to help us?” Even as Ciara asked the question, she realized the answer and was shaking her head in absolute denial. “No. No. No. We are not two small children to ride the back of your dragon.”
Had wolves been meant to fly, God would have given them wings. Yes, he would.
She remembered her reaction when the dragon had snatched her right out of the air and from certain death. She’d fainted.
“Do you have a better idea?”
She was trying to think of one when Mairi crumpled to the ground. Ciara dropped to her knees beside the injured woman, grateful when she felt the rise and fall of Mairi’s chest against her hand. But the other woman’s breathing was shallow and the mottling of bruises around her neck and face hinted she could be injured far worse where her plaid covered her.
What kind of man did this to his daughter?
Ciara brushed Mairi’s pale hair back from her face. “We have to get her back to the keep. Now.”
“Yes.”
There was no help for it, but that didn’t mean Ciara had to like it. Wolves ran. They jumped, even great distances. But they did not fly.
She, however, was about to. Again. She could only hope this time that she kept her wits about her.
Ciara turned her head toward Eirik. “Shift into your dragon. I’ll lift her onto your back and then climb on behind her to keep her from falling.”
Was she really going to ride the dragon that had cast fire and killed her brother?
Looking down at the unconscious woman beside her, Ciara could only find one answer inside her heart.
Yes.
Eirik shifted right there, with a flash of crimson light and a low dragon’s growl. At least as fast as any wolf shifter Ciara had ever seen, and quicker than most, the transformation from man to dragon was over in seconds.
Eirik’s beast was magnificent and huge. Much bigger close-up than he had seemed in the sky (and he’d been plenty imposing then), the red dragon stood half again as tall as a laird’s warhorse and easily twice as long. His wings spread out with a whoosh of air that sent Ciara’s hair flying around her face as he stood on his back legs.
And, if it were possible, he looked even more massive like this.
Familiar amber eyes surveyed Ciara and the unconscious Mairi. Were dragons as cognizant of their human counterparts as wolves?
There was no reason to believe otherwise, but the sense of feral strength coming from Eirik the dragon was immense. And still, Ciara felt no fear. Far from it.
She should be terrified; she knew what destruction this beast could do, but all she felt was awe and this ridiculous inescapable enchantment to be in his presence.
’Twas not right. Mythical creature of magic or not, this beast had killed her brother, even if it had not been murder.
However, her wolf refused to see Eirik as enemy. She wanted to roll on her back and show belly, but not out of mere recognition of the more powerful predator. Oh, no. That would be too simple and easy to ignore. Her wolf craved the dragon’s touch, it wanted to be nuzzled, scented and accepted.
That was never going to happen.
Ciara fought her wolf’s urges even as she considered the problem at hand. “How am I going to get Mairi onto your back?”
He moved, his body shockingly agile for so great a beast, and simply picked Mairi up in his forearms.
As much as Ciara knew the other woman needed his help, the sight of Mairi in Eirik’s arms made Ciara’s wolf howl inside her. The wolf insisted this was not right. Another woman should not be held so carefully against Eirik’s massive crimson-scaled chest.
Ciara ignored her Faol instincts and took a step back. “I’ll shift into my wolf and run back to the keep then.”
Eirik shook his great head and gave a growl that couldn’t be taken as anything but a very adamant negative. If she was still in doubt, the way his tail whipped out, wrapped around her waist and tugged her toward him was enough to make his thoughts on the subject known.
She pushed at the living rope surrounding her to no avail. “We don’t have time to argue. I don’t know how injured Mairi is. We’ve got to get her to Abigail.”
Ciara had to fight both the urge to simply caress his tail and learn the feel of the dragon’s scales close-up, and the overwhelming sense of safety this odd embrace gave her.
Eirik nodded, his determined amber gaze telling her he agreed, but that they were going to do things his way.
Stubborn dragon prince.
“I know you think I need you watching over me, but I am perfectly safe in the forest.”
He growled and shook his head, his tail tightening its hold on her. His warmth surrounded her like a shield and she wanted to relax, rest here where she felt safe enough to sleep, when she never felt that safe anymore.
Could the dragon protect her dreams? ’Twas a whimsical if very tempting thought. And she dismissed it.
“You are bossy, you know that, right?”
A dragon’s shrug moved its wings and once again a soft wind caressed her face. Ciara found it so ridiculously endearing, an unwilling smile curved her lips when really, she wanted to frown. “Arrogant beast.”
The chuff that came from his mouth could be naught but laughter.
“How am I to get on your back then? I am not a bird. I cannot fly.” And the thought of scrambling up his huge body as the boys had done that day so long ago in the forest was not in the least appealing.
Eirik shook his head and chuffed again. And then, without warning, she found herself being lifted off the ground.
An embarrassing squeak came out of her mouth before she clamped it shut. And the tip of his tail caressed her back as if to soothe her. Darn it if she did not indeed feel soothed.
Annoying dragon know-it-all.
He set her standing on his massive thigh, his legs bent to make a step of sorts. And she found herself doing exactly what she’d sworn n
ot to, climbing up his back like a child in a tree. He positioned his wings so she could use one to hold onto as she moved up his back.
His scales were warm and not exactly slick, but they were smooth. Still, with his tail against her back and his wings nearly closed around her, she was in no danger of slipping. When she settled against his neck, she draped her legs on either side, resting them against where his wings joined his shoulders. She curled her arms around his neck, her fingers locked but careful not to choke him.
It was as secure a spot as she could hope for in order to ride the mythical beast.
Ciara felt the muscles under her thighs bunch and knew Eirik was getting ready to leap into the sky.
’Twas just like riding a horse. She nodded to herself. Yes. That was it.
So, she was a great deal farther from the ground than when she rode even the biggest horse in the stable. It did not matter. It would not be so bad.
Eirik took a couple of running steps and then leapt upward.
“A horse. Just like a horse,” she muttered over and over to herself.
But horses did not fly, no more than wolves.
And Eirik was still rising in the sky with Mairi in his arms and Ciara on his back, his great wings creating a powerful draft below them. Ciara peeked around his neck to look down. Her grip on the dragon’s neck tightened. They flew well above the tops of the trees…trees so tall she could barely see their tops from the ground.
But the terror that had sparked in her at the thought of flight did not show itself now that she was high in the sky on a dragon’s back. Exhilarated rather, the sense of enchantment returned.
She was flying and it was magnificent! She wanted to shout her glee, but worried she might draw attention to them and then decided they were too far from the ground for her voice to carry to anyone below.
She threw her head back and laughed. Thoroughly captivated, she laughed as she had not since she was a small child. The dragon’s head came up and he bugled, a sound that was like bubbled happiness exploding around her.
“It is magical,” she shouted, hoping he could hear her through the rushing wind around them. “Wonderful!”
She’d ever believed there could be no greater gift than the ability to share her life with the wolf that shared her soul. But to fly? To see the world from above, to feel the cold wind on her face and the amazing body of a dragon below her? This was a gift beyond measure.
She hugged the dragon’s neck and whispered, not sure she wanted him to hear, but certain the words had to be said. “Thank you for this. Thank you.”
Chapter 6
He is the best man who, when making his plans, fears and reflects on everything that can happen to him, but in the moment of action is bold.
—HERODOTUS
Eirik landed in the area behind the keep that the Sinclair used to train his elite soldiers. He had waited to approach until the wall and tower guards were looking elsewhere and would have waited for a cloud to cover the moon as well, but the human woman in his arms was too wounded for such a delay.
Even so, he had been tempted to stay in the air longer just to experience the joy pouring off Ciara in delicious waves.
She had not wanted to fly but had loved it once they were in the air. A fearless Chrechte if he had ever met one.
’Twas why he had not been willing to tell Talorc about Ciara sneaking from the fortress at night. Eirik was too impressed by her sneakiness and courage.
By happenstance, he had been there the first time she’d made the jump from her window to the wall. She could not have known it would work. He had not believed it would and had shifted to his dragon with no hope of catching her this time before she landed gracefully on the wall walk. The leap should have not been possible, even for a wolf.
But she’d made it and he had to respect that.
Besides, his raven had enjoyed watching over her as Ciara ran through the forest, a sense of possessive protectiveness usually reserved for family filling him as he flew above her.
Ciara had not liked finding out she’d been watched over, however. Independent faolán.
If he were not in his dragon form, he would be smiling as he gently laid the human woman, Mairi, onto the ground. Dragons did not smile though and any attempt to do so would be more frightening than reassuring.
He was unsurprised when Lais stepped out of the shadows. Eirik had called to the healer through the mental link he shared with all the Éan before he ever took flight. As a direct descendant of the first keeper of the Clach Gealach Gra, Eirik could communicate with his people at will. He could also hear them when they needed him to, but had been trained to block the attempts as well.
“She has not regained her senses?” Lais asked, already examining Mairi’s bruises and scowling over them.
“No,” Ciara answered, probably assuming Lais had been talking to her. She squirmed in her perch on Eirik’s neck. “I need to get down.”
Having her naked body astride him, even in his dragon form, had been a challenge to Eirik’s self-control. He could smell her scent, taste her on the air around them and the feel of her thighs against his neck only made him think of what they would feel like wrapped around his body when he was a man.
The desire to shift right now, while she was still astride his beast burned inside him. He forced himself to ignore it; this was not the time to give in to his carnal lusts.
He flicked his tail up to give her something to hold on to as she climbed down while folding his wings back to create a protective shield for her—both so she would not fall and to hide her nakedness from Lais. Were he to look up from his patient, which he showed no signs of doing.
Fortunately for Eirik’s temper, she dismounted from the opposite side to where Lais knelt by Mairi. For whatever reason, Eirik’s dragon was ready to cast fire at the thought of Lais witnessing Ciara’s nudity.
They were Chrechte, damn it. Not the tamed humans among the clans. Eirik was in no way influenced by civilized conventions, but if Lais were to lay eyes on Ciara in all her nude beauty, Eirik was not entirely sure he would be able to control the instincts of the beast.
Lais nodded his head toward a pile of cloth on the ground. “I brought covering for Ciara as you asked.”
Eirik hadn’t asked, he’d ordered. Nevertheless, he said, Thank you, through the mental link before calling forth his human form.
As soon as he had completed the shift, he grabbed light fabric he knew to be one of his shirts and tossed it to Ciara. “Cover yourself.”
“Bossy dragon.” But her beautiful green eyes still glowed with the happiness she’d experienced in flight and her mouth curved in a sweet smile he wanted to kiss.
She pulled the shirt on quickly. The hem hung down past her knees and in the moonlight it did an adequate job of preserving her feminine modesty. But if he looked closely, he could see her nipples, still hard from the cold air, poking against the thin material.
He was looking closely. Very, very closely. So intently in fact, that he could just make out the juncture of her thighs behind the fall of fabric.
He wanted nothing more in that moment than to rip the damn thing back off again and have his way with the little wolf that hid her caring heart behind a mask of indifference.
Looking at her standing there in his shirt, he had to smile. Compared to him, she was a wee thing, but it was easy to forget that with her fierce spirit.
A spirit the Sinclair insisted that she had kept locked deep inside herself until Eirik’s arrival. Eirik thought it was fury at her brother’s killer coming to live among her clan that had brought her emotions to the surface.
But unlike Ciara, Talorc had not blamed Eirik for Galen’s death, or the subsequent suicide of Ciara’s mother. The laird maintained that the feelings Ciara was finally exhibiting did not run along the lines of hatred.
Unwilling to argue the matter, Eirik had left the deluded laird to his illusions.
“And you?” Ciara demanded.
Eirik’s b
rows drew together in confusion. “What?”
“Mairi could wake up any moment.”
“Aye, ’twould be a good thing.”
“Not while you are still naked,” Ciara gritted out.
And Eirik smiled. It pleased him more than it should that the femwolf was apparently afflicted by a strain of un-Chrechte-like modesty on his behalf as well.
She’d made it clear that she was no more interested in finding a mate right now than he was. And though she had finally acknowledged that her brother’s death was of Galen’s own making, it did not follow that she would ever consider aligning her life with his killer.
If Eirik were looking for a mate, which he was not. He had too much to do for his people right now to spend time trying to placate or woo a woman. He could not even be sure a woman existed that he could share his life with, much less one that he could call true mate. He had two natures besides his human one to appease when choosing his lifelong bed partner.
The raven and dragon were often at odds inside him when it came to choosing a course of action. What were the chances they would agree on his mate?
“What has you scowling?” Ciara asked in a teasing tone. “You were smiling just a moment ago.”
“Is a near-dead human woman found on Sinclair land not reason enough to frown?” he asked as he donned his kilt.
It was made of the hide from the first boar he had brought down on his own. His aunt had tanned the leather before fashioning a hunter’s kilt from it, since his mother had not been alive to do so and his sister had been too busy protecting their people as a full-fledged guardian warrior.
As prince of his people, he had never worn a plaid, not even the weave of muted forest tones the Éan had taken to be their own colors.
He had not decided if joining the Sinclairs would change that fact.
Ciara bit her lip, the happy glow fading from her features, her gaze quickly averting to look at the woman lying in the grass. “We should get her inside. I need to wake Abigail.”
“Abigail’s healing herbs are a wonder to be sure, but they cannot compare to a Chrechte’s gift.”
