by G. A. Aiken
How she knew these things, he’d never know. “Look, you have a kingdom to—”
“Horseshit!”
“What?”
“He told me you’d come up with some noble horseshit about me having to defend my kingdom and no one able to accept the two of us.”
“Gwenvael,” he growled angrily. “Annwyl, it is for your—”
“You have two choices, dragon,” she cut in smoothly.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Do I?”
“Yes. You do.”
“And they are?”
“Claim me now. Or let me go forever.”
He’d kill his brother for his big mouth.
“You don’t even know what that means.”
“Yes. I do.”
He wanted to Claim her. To make her his own. Yet he planned to wait until she’d secured her reign. And if, after that, she still wanted him. . . . “No. You don’t.”
“I know I’ll not waste my life waiting for you.” That stung. More than he wanted to admit.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Really? You’re not?”
“No.”
“So I can take any man right now and you won’t care.”
“If that’s your wish.” He bet a lie that size could kill him.
“Well, any man won’t do,” she mused softly. “But I think Gwenvael is still here.”
She grabbed a fur covering and headed toward the tent flap. Fearghus seized her by her arm and swung her around. “That’s not funny,” he growled.
“Fearghus, just admit it. You’d kill any man or dragon who came near me.”
He wanted to say no. He wanted it to be the truth. But they both knew better.
“I would.”
She leaned into him. Her breasts against his forearm. He closed his eyes as her hand ran down his chest, his hips, finally grasping his shaft in her hand. She ran her fingers over the veins and ridges, her thumb circled the head. “Then Claim me.”
“No.”
She angrily released what had now become a healthy erection. “Why?”
“Because it would be clear to all that you are mine. That your love and loyalty belonged to a dragon.”
“And?”
“Could you at least act afraid?”
“The only thing I feared has his head on a spike outside my camp. Now my fear is of living the rest of my life without you.”
Fearghus stared at Annwyl. Just that morning the woman bravely took the queen’s flame. A flame imbued with the most ancient of Magicks. And until her death, Annwyl would always be immune to any dragon’s fire. But he knew his mother well enough to know she didn’t make it easy on the girl. Annwyl’s back and side were completely covered in dark bruises. The old bitch probably knocked her right out of her chamber.
His eyes glanced briefly at the mark clearly defined on her chest; it was burned into the tan skin above her breasts. She now wore the Chain of Beathag as well. And would for the rest of her life. It would always be there, right under her skin. One of the most powerful gods-created items a dragon could bestow upon a human. The Chain of Beathag could extend the life of the wearer but only if her heart remained pure and her love true. Her love for the dragon. Otherwise it would be a fiery and painful death that would last days.
He touched the mark and Annwyl winced, her skin still sensitive. Annwyl loved him. She wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t.
Yet he couldn’t let that change his plan. He wouldn’t put Annwyl at risk until she secured her reign. Of course that didn’t mean Annwyl would make it easy on him.
“Annwyl—”
“I grow tired of this . . . and of you.” She snatched her arm away from him, taking several long strides to the wood table in the middle of her tent. Already she moved like a queen. The humans would be lucky to have her as their sovereign.
“Claim me now, dragon.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fur barely covering her at all. “Or go. And never come back.”
He knew what he should do. He should walk out of her life forever. He should let some nice human boy take her. Some nice human boy he would have to kill for touching the woman he loved.
With a sigh, Fearghus went and stood in front of her. “You are a mad bitch, Annwyl the Bloody.”
“What other woman would put up with you, Fearghus the Destroyer?”
Fearghus leaned down and kissed the top of Annwyl’s head to prevent himself from laughing. “You are a strange woman, Queen Annwyl.” He brushed his cheek against hers.
“So I’ve been told.” His hands slid under the fur covering, gliding along her waist, her back, her rear. He heard her breath catch as she leaned into him. “Don’t make me wait, dragon. Claim me now or let me go forever.”
“Are you sure, Annwyl? Once this is done, there will be no going back.”
“I’ve made my decision, dragon.” She let the fur covering drop to the floor. “But make sure it’s what you want. Do me no favors.”
He gripped her around the waist and easily sat Annwyl on the wood table. He kissed her forehead, then her neck as he grasped both her forearms in his hands. He leaned in and kissed her luscious mouth as his grip on her arms became tighter.
Annwyl stared at Fearghus and wondered what he was doing. He stood quietly, holding onto her forearms as if he were afraid she’d run away. But that wouldn’t happen. She wanted this, and him, more than anything. But maybe he’d decided he just didn’t want her. That he’d rather spend his long life with a dragon as a mate.
Gwenvael led her on this course, damn him. The drunker the dragon got, the more she realized how much he actually cared for his gruff older brother. Even as he tried to put his hand on her rear. Then Morfyd confirmed it. The two of them planted themselves on either side of Annwyl and told her that if she wanted their brother, she’d best get him to Claim her this night. Otherwise he’d leave, thinking he did it for the right reasons.
But maybe they were wrong. Maybe he didn’t want her at all. Not for any length of time anyway.
Annwyl winced. His grip on her arms hadn’t tightened, but pain still slashed across her flesh. Her fists rested against his chest and she felt his deep, even breathing against her skin as her agony became more intense. The pain reminded her of when she burned her hand over an open flame or got too close to a bubbling pot. It went through her skin right down to the flesh and bone beneath.
She tried to stifle a yelp of pain, but she just couldn’t. It hurt that much. She dropped her head against his chest, praying it wouldn’t last much longer, when a warm jolt passed through her body. Her nipples hardened. Her sex became wet. Her breath came out in short gasps. She moaned as her entire body tightened. Fearghus’s erection rose against her in response to her body’s call.
Annwyl gasped as another pulse of heat passed through her. Her sex clenched. Her legs weakened. She was coming. She didn’t know how or why, but she was coming. And when a third wave of heat flashed through her body, she cried out. She came hard, her teeth biting into the flesh of his chest.
Fearghus kissed her then. His mouth brutally claiming hers, his tongue torturing hers with bold strokes.
The pain in her arms receded and her spasms stopped. Fearghus released her and she glanced down at her forearms, saw burned flesh on both. The lingering after-pain made her wonder if they would ever heal.
“That is so every dragon knows you belong to me.” He kissed her again as he laid her back against the table. “And this”—he kissed her breasts, her chest, her stomach—“this is for me.” He lowered his head between her legs, his tongue swiping the inside flesh of her thigh. She clenched her teeth as a burning pain spread over the area. He did the same to the other thigh and she gripped the table, her fingers digging into the wood. He breathed over the two areas and the pain swept through once again. Annwyl bit her lip to stop herself from screaming but a low moan escaped as her body shook. Then his tongue speared through the folds of her sex, replacing the pain with s
weet, deep pleasure. Her back arched off the table, but he gripped her legs and held her as his tongue dipped inside and around the swollen, hungry flesh.
She forgot the pain as Fearghus’s talented tongue stroked her over and over again, bringing her closer and closer to release. Her hands clenched into fists, her moans filled the tent. Soon she began to shake as her climax ripped through her, a loud cry torn from her heated body.
Fearghus gently gathered her to him, pulling her off the table, and pressing her still shuddering body against his.
Fearghus whispered softly against her ear, “Are you all right?”
Her arms hurt. The insides of her thighs were sore. And burns permanently marred her body. Yes, Annwyl felt just fine.
She wet her lips and took a deep breath. “Is that all, dragon?”
Breathing hard, his cock hot and demanding against her, he growled. “Not even close.”
“Good. I was about to feel disappointed.”
Fearghus’s head brushed against hers as he breathed in deeply. “You always smell so good, Annwyl.”
“I do?” At least she hoped she said that. She wasn’t quite sure. Fearghus slowly rubbing his head against hers, his long hair sliding across her naked body, completely distracted her. An innocent move, it still made her knees weak and her nipples tighten painfully.
“You amaze me, woman.”
“Then finish it,” she purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the searing pain the move caused her forearms. “And keep me as your own.”
Apparently he needed no further prompting. He turned her so she faced the wood table and ran his hands down her back. His lips following close behind. Alternately nipping and sucking her skin. He licked any wounds she had, cleaning them with his tongue. She wanted to order him to get on with it, but she knew he would just make her wait longer. So she placed her hands, palms flat, against the table and wondered when she’d become such a bitch in heat. She’d lost all control around her dragon.
Fearghus wondered how long before she started barking orders at him. He grinned against her flesh. Annwyl reigned absolute as the most demanding female he’d ever met. And every day she surprised him. Already she handled the worst part of the Claiming, the Branding not being for the faint of heart.
Truth be told, he thought as soon as the process began she’d beg him to stop. At the first touch of heat on her arms, she’d panic and run. But he should’ve known she’d stay. She’d gritted her teeth and faced the challenge.
But he never expected her to climax. Her whole body shook with the force of it and she drew blood when she bit into his chest.
The Claiming differed from pairing-to-pairing—after all these years his parents’ notorious Claiming still remained the talk of the court—but he knew what he needed from his Annwyl. And, as always, it would be his pleasure to get it from her.
He pushed her legs apart and deftly entered her from behind. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her mutter “About time.” Already wet and so tight, he felt like he might come before he even finished the first stroke. No other female ever made him so desperate. So hungry. He let his cock rest inside of her and he waited. And waited. She lasted about ten seconds before she pushed back into him.
He slapped her rear.
“Oi!”
“This is my Claiming, wench. Not yours. Try that again and we stop . . . for good.” He lied, of course. There would be no way he would ever stop taking her. Fucking her any and every way he could. But he loved that growl of annoyance she gave when he taunted her. It made him harder.
For good measure—and really just because he wanted to—he slapped her rear again. She glared at him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t hide the rush of moisture or the way her muscles gripped his cock.
She wanted him. Needed him. Which was good. Because this night he would make her his own, so that she’d never forget it.
* * *
She knew now that only one male could have ever claimed her. Only one dragon was strong enough to make her his and his alone. Any other male she would have left dead on the wedding sheets. But her Fearghus was brave enough to take her. Brave enough to burn his mark into her flesh. And brave enough to slap her ass.
He never tried to tame her. He loved everything about her, including her rage, and he never tried to change it or make it go away. Fearghus embraced it as he embraced all of her.
He was her perfect match and one day they would rule Garbhán Isle together.
Fearghus moved inside her. Slowly. Taking his time. Making her hungry for it. She cursed him but it came out suspiciously like a moan. But by the gods it felt so good. And she couldn’t stop herself from moaning. Gasping. Saying his name. Screaming his name.
He brought his long, hard body over hers and kissed her shoulders, back, and neck. His hands slipped under her body and gripped her breasts, squeezing her nipples tight. She leaned her head back and he kissed her.
He stood, lifting her chest off the table with one hand while the other slowly found its way down to her dripping sex. He massaged her there, avoiding her clit. And she thought briefly that she might possibly have to kill him.
She needed release. And she needed it now.
She leaned back against him, her arms going back to wrap around his neck as he hungrily nipped her throat. She again ignored the pain in her forearms as his black hair rasped across the wounds. She didn’t care. Because at that very moment, even the pain felt good.
“Finish it, Fearghus,” she begged desperately. “Now.”
“Tell me what I need to hear first, Annwyl. Tell me.”
Somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he needed. And she would not delay in telling him. “I love you, Fearghus. I love you and I’m yours. There will be no other. Ever.” As if that had ever been an option.
“And I’m yours, Annwyl. Forever.”
“Yes. That’s wonderful,” she barked dismissively. “Now finish it.” He laughed, she assumed at the desperation in her voice. His cock thrust smoothly in and out of her as his fingers gripped her clit and firmly stroked the engorged nub. Her fingers dug into Fearghus’s hair, gripping the silky strands as the wave of heat spread across her lower back. She moaned desperately as her body began to shake. Heat tore up her spine and her clit throbbed uncontrollably. The moan became a scream as the climax racked her body. He fucked her through her orgasm, but when her cries settled he allowed himself to come with a roar, his seed exploding into her.
The pair laid against the table, tiny spasms rocking their bodies. Until Annwyl looked back at him.
“Fearghus?” He looked asleep. His eyes closed; his breathing even and deep.
“Aye?” he finally answered without opening his eyes.
“So is that it then?”
He smiled. “Yes, Annwyl. That’s it.”
She looked across the tent to the tub, then back at him. “That tub certainly is far away.”
He opened his eyes and glanced over. “Aye. That it is.”
“Think we can make it?”
“Leave it to me, woman.” He took a deep breath, wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her off the floor. He walked over to the tub, carrying her easily, his cock still buried inside her. With his free hand, he reached down and dumped the tub over, the used water splashing across the floor.
“Watch. Learned this from Morfyd.”
He spoke an incantation in a language Annwyl never heard before. In moments, the tub filled with steamy water.
“Nice trick.”
“I thought so.” Fearghus stepped into the tub, still tightly holding Annwyl in his arms. He lowered himself into the hot water and relaxed back. “Of course, somewhere I may have just caused a drought.”
“Couldn’t be helped.”
“Selfish bitch.”
He kissed her neck, licked her ear, while his hands roamed slowly over her flesh. His shaft still buried deep inside of her.
“You know, Fearghus, you can let me go now.�
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“I know,” he muttered against her neck. But his body seemed to have a plan of its own, as his hands did nothing but excite her, his cock hard again, growing in response to her moans.
Annwyl smiled. This was going to be a long night.
Annwyl forced her eyes open. Based on the shadows crawling across the dirt floor, most of the day had already passed. She’d probably missed luncheon.
She didn’t reach for Fearghus. There was no point. He was gone. She didn’t know when he left, but as soon as she awoke, she felt his absence.
The dragon took possession of her body all night. A few times she’d wake to find him inside of her, making love to her until she climaxed. One time she thought she dreamed that she’d taken him, only to wake up to find herself straddling his hips and riding his cock until he exploded inside of her. But the last time he came to her she knew something was different. He moved slow and gentle inside her. Taking his time, giving her the sweetest experience she ever had.
And she knew that when dawn came, he’d leave her. Tragically, she’d been right.
Annwyl dragged herself up to a sitting position, the fur cover slipping to her waist. She ached all over. And she did mean all over. Wounds from the battle littered her body. And her muscles and skin were sore from Fearghus’s Claiming of her.
Remembering the Claiming, she glanced down at her forearms and froze.
“Brastias!”
In a few moments her head battle lord strode into her tent, his eyes averted from her naked breasts that she didn’t bother to cover. “Is Morfyd still here?”
“Aye.”
“Fetch her.”
He didn’t ask questions, he just moved. In a few minutes Morfyd came in, she saw the look on Annwyl’s face and immediately became concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Your brother’s gone.”
Morfyd nodded. “Yes. I saw him this morning.”
“Why?”
“He said you needed to do this on your own. You would be the one ruling these people. It was up to you to earn their loyalty. All he could do was bring their fear.”
Of course, he spoke true. The bastard.
Annwyl pointed to the marks on her chest. The pain she endured made her hope it had some useful significance and wasn’t merely the queen having a bit of fun. “You never gave me a straight answer about this.”
