Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  “Do ye, Lachlan, take this lass, Margaret Hibbins, to be your wife and mate?”

  He raised his mouth from hers and twisted them so they faced the goddess. “Aye.”

  “With full knowledge she is witch born, and ye have no idea the extent of her ability.”

  “Aye.”

  “To cherish and protect and feed and clothe?”

  “Now just a minute.” Maggie wriggled in his arms, but he held fast. “I can feed and clothe myself.”

  “No more interruptions.” The goddess sounded stern. She held up an index finger. “Your answers from this point on are aye or nay.”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  Ceridwen nodded approval. “Now, lass, do ye take this man, Lachlan Moncrieffe, Laird of Clan Moncrieffe, to be your husband and mate?”

  Well, do I?

  It felt as if she’d pole-vaulted into fairyland when Maggie heard herself say, “Yes.”

  “With full knowledge he is bonded to a dragon.”

  Maggie’s second yes came easier.

  “There now.” Ceridwen clucked. “That wasna so hard. “Will ye honor and obey him in all things without question?”

  Something snapped. “Why does he get to cherish and protect me, and I have to obey him?”

  “Tch, tch.” Ceridwen waggled her index finger right under Maggie’s nose. “And would ye be questioning the words to a ceremony far more ancient than yourself?”

  “Not the words, the concepts,” Maggie muttered. She drew away from Lachlan, faced him and the goddess, and squared her shoulders. “What I will do is my best to love you, to treat you as my friend. I will be faithful. I will stand by your side. We will hold our arguments in private. I will make all major decisions with you.”

  Maggie placed her hands on her hips. She felt shaky inside but tipped her chin up. “Those things will have to do. I obey no one.”

  A look passed from Lachlan to Ceridwen. The goddess’ face softened. She’d looked so threatening, Maggie wondered if the next thing would be a lightning bolt channeled straight into her heart.

  “’Tisn’t wise to pit yourself against the gods, lass.” Ceridwen spaced out her words. “In this particular instance, ye’ve won, but I doona recommend ye do it again. Most of my kin are not as…tolerant as me. Now, for the love of Dewi, who is also involved since Lachlan is a dragon shifter, stand next to one another again.”

  Maggie stepped to Lachlan’s side. He gripped her hand. Ceridwen lapsed into Gaelic. Lachlan placed his mouth right next to Maggie’s ear. “She invokes the Celtic dragon god.”

  Maggie almost hissed back, What if Dewi doesn’t approve? but kept her mouth shut. She’d taken enough of a stand. No point in making Ceridwen so angry the goddess refused to help find Mary Elma.

  Heat rose around them, so intense beads of sweat broke out on Maggie’s forehead. She held her breath and waited. The heat rose and fell basting them in steam. A sudden, searing pain shot through her arm. Maggie yelped and tried to clap a hand over it, but Lachlan held her still.

  “’Twill pass.” He spoke soothingly into her mind. “Dewi sensed the ritual mating mark on your neck, and now he has marked you too. I have such a mark on my upper arm.”

  “Lachlan.” Ceridwen’s voice held a warning note. “Dewi is female.”

  “Apologies.” Lachlan inclined his head. “I had no idea.”

  “I was just about to correct you,” Kheladin said. The dragon lapsed into Gaelic, and the intense heat around them subsided.

  What the hell did Dewi do to me? It hurts like a bitch.

  Maggie breathed in and out through tightly clenched teeth, determined not to make a bigger fool out of herself than she already had. True to Lachlan’s prediction, the pain did recede and far more quickly than she anticipated.

  As if from a great distance, she heard Ceridwen say, “And ’tis nearly done. Give me your right hands.” More pain. Blood welled from cuts in the meaty part of her thumb and Lachlan’s. He rubbed his cut over hers, mingling the thick, sticky fluid.

  A satisfied smile spread over Ceridwen’s face. No longer formidable, the goddess looked like an indulgent grandmother, but her change of expression didn’t fool Maggie. In a flash of wry humor, she thought about asking where the goddess had hidden her cauldron.

  Ceridwen met Maggie’s gaze and shook her head slightly before turning to Lachlan. “Ye are mated, Laird, in both your forms, to this lass.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to ask, What about me? but changed her mind. The cut in her thumb not only stopped stinging, it healed before her eyes turning into smooth, unbroken skin.

  Ceridwen snorted. “Ye’re learning, lass. Once we find your grandmother, the first order of business must be creating stronger links betwixt you and your magic. Had ye taken to it at a more tender age, ye’d not be so testy and resistant now.”

  Since her Aunt Chloe could be a poster-witch for testy and resistant, Maggie wasn’t so certain Ceridwen was correct.

  “Even that one knows how to follow orders when given,” Ceridwen pointed out.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll never have another private thought.”

  “Pfft.” Ceridwen huffed.

  Lachlan murmured, “Of course ye will,” so comfortingly she suspected a spell, just before he turned her in his arms and kissed her. The touch of his mouth made everything else flee. Little, nibbling kisses warmed her to her toes. Maggie wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  I did it. I’m married. Christ, but I hope I don’t live to regret this.

  He lifted his mouth from hers. “Not while there’s breath in my body, lass.” He kissed her again. His hands roamed down her shoulders and back and settled over the curve of her buttocks, drawing her against his erection. A protest about him still living in her head and sharing all her thoughts died unspoken.

  Sexual need roared out of nowhere, igniting all her nerve endings. When she lived in her head—in her worries—it was as if she existed from the neck up, but when Lachlan’s mouth trailed down her face, and his hands settled on her body, the anxious part of her quieted.

  He pushed his hands beneath her top and raised it, bending his head to suckle a breast. Liquid heat raced from her nipple and set the rest of her on fire. Her pussy was awash in fluid. Her clit throbbed with need. Somehow, her hands found the fastenings on the pants he’d complained about. She understood the problem when it was almost impossible to undo the buttons because of tension from his cock pressing against them.

  He untied her sweater from around her waist and pulled her top over her head. When he fumbled with the clasp on her bra, she helped him. Anything to give his mouth and hands better access to her breasts. He filled his hands with them and then bent his head to tongue and lave them again. Pressure built deep in her belly. If he kept sucking her nipples, she’d come just from that. But her pussy felt hollow. She needed him. Needed him now. Maggie tried to tell him, but her throat was so thick with desire, all she could do was moan.

  She tugged the denim pants down his legs, and then thought about his shoes. He still probably had the lace-up leather boots on. Maybe the pants would just slide off over them. Maggie curved her hands around his cock. It was even more substantial than she remembered, so thick she couldn’t reach all the way around it with one hand. Lachlan groaned and pushed his ridged flesh into her touch.

  “I miss my plaid and women’s skirts.” His breath came fast, blurring the words. “’Twas so much easier.”

  He fumbled at the waist of her pants. She toed off her shoes and helped him slide her pants down her legs, so she could step out of them. Somehow they ended up on the ground, in a tangle of arms and legs. He kissed her again, hard and demanding, breath rasping against her mouth. “I have to be inside you. Now. Help me with these infernal breeks. I canna move with them twisted about my legs.”

  She lifted a pant leg and examined the complex lacing system that held his boots together. “Did you take the boots o
ff to get the pants on?”

  “Nay.”

  Maggie was so hot, even simple thought was a challenge, but logic dictated the pants should slide off the same way they went on. She got hold of a cuff and pulled. Lachlan pushed. Between them, they freed one leg. “’Tis all I need, lass.” He dove atop her, his weight pinning her to the ground. Rather than cold and lumpy, the earth felt warm, welcoming.

  The world turned into a kaleidoscope when his cockhead pressed against her entrance. It’s like Wonderland, where nothing is as it seems was her last conscious thought. She reached between them and guided him inside. Maggie wound her legs around his waist and gripped his upper arms with both hands. She felt her body stretch to accommodate his length and girth.

  Rather than withdrawing and driving himself into her, Lachlan twitched tiny muscles, making his cock jump inside her. He did it again and again. She squeezed back. Maggie pressed her clit against the base of his cock and rotated her hips. Coiled deep in her belly, the climax that wanted out—needed out—spiraled to life. Surges of heat pounded her, and her body convulsed around him.

  “Aye, lass. Sweet, Maggie. Come for me.” He balanced on his arms and watched her, a feral gleam deep in his green eyes.

  “What about you?” She tried thrusting her hips but couldn’t move more than half an inch or so.

  “’Tis my task to give you pleasure. Men always spend.”

  Her gaze roved over his body, and her mouth curved into a smile. His tawny skin was flushed a rosy gold. His nipples were taut. “Looks like this man is damned close, if I’m any judge.”

  “Close, but I can bring you there again. Let me.”

  Maggie dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Lachlan pulled almost all the way out and moved his cock in small, lazy circles around her entrance before pressing slowly inside again. After about ten of those long, slow strokes, his control crumpled, and he drove himself home, fast and hard. Lost in the wonder of his body, sucked in by his lust, tinder to her own, Maggie met every stroke.

  Her pussy tightened, signaling she was almost there. Maggie moved her hands to his hips and pulled him against her. She ground her clit against him and shot over the edge, screaming her delight as wave after wave of ecstasy tore through her. In the midst of her climax, she felt him release. His spasms fed hers, and another climax crowded on the heels of the one she wasn’t quite done with.

  They lay trembling and panting in one another’s arms for long moments. When she could talk again, she said, “Wow! Amazing. You can do that again anytime you want.”

  He rolled off her onto his side and propped his head on an upraised hand. “What? No undying words of love and devotion from my new mate?”

  Maggie bit her lower lip. “If I said I loved you, it wouldn’t be the truth. Not quite. I like you, and God knows you’re the hottest thing with a dick that’s wandered into my life—ever.”

  He shook his head slightly, and she stopped talking. “I’m falling in love with you, lass. What man could resist the wonders of your body or the blue of your eyes? Did ye know they darken to midnight when ye’re about to spend?”

  The sound of hands smacking together reminded Maggie they were far from alone. Ceridwen had been there the whole time, right along with Kheladin. Maggie rolled her eyes, amazed she’d totally forgotten about them.

  “Perfect,” Ceridwen crowed. “Simply perfect. The grove is delighted and the earth too. Get dressed, children. We have work to do.”

  Maggie twisted so she could look in the direction of the goddess’ voice and gasped. Much as she’d imagined Ceridwen should look, the goddess sat naked on the ground behind a huge copper kettle, stirring it with her staff.

  “Pull your eyes back into your head, lass. No boiled babies today.” Ceridwen laughed then, a sound so full of life and promise, Maggie couldn’t help herself. Joy rolled through her, and she laughed too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lachlan kissed Maggie’s forehead tenderly once she was through chortling with the goddess. Ceridwen was like that. She could deal death with the best of them, yet she had a vibrant liveliness that was contagious. He bit down on a sigh, muffling it in his clothing. He’d hoped the dragon mate bond would spin its magic, and the lass would fall head over heels in love with him, but it hadn’t happened yet.

  Och aye. She did wed me. Mayhap ’tis greedy to ask for more just now.

  He pushed to a sitting position and gathered more clothes. Loathing filled him when he picked up the breeks. He wished to hell he’d had the presence of mind to bring a plaid along. His cock was still half hard, and the thought of forcing it back behind the metal buttons was deucedly unpleasant.

  Maggie had just shrugged back into the binding about her breasts and her shirt when music trilled. He started and then remembered it was the thing she called a phone. She grabbed her bag and fished the little noisemaker out of it.

  Worse than a hungry bairn, he thought.

  Maggie blew out an exasperated breath. “Shit. It’s Chloe again.” She swiped a finger over the device. It silenced immediately, and she spoke into it. “Yes?”

  Lachlan tried to eavesdrop, but the witch guarded her communications closely. After long silences when Maggie was obviously listening, and a few times when she clucked nonsensical, soothing sounds into the phone, Ceridwen snapped, “Oh for the love of Andraste, give that bloody thing to me.”

  “Hang on Chloe,” Maggie said. “Someone here wants to talk with you.”

  “Well, if it’s that fucking dragon shifter who’s wasting time on sex—”

  “It’s not.” Maggie handed the phone to Ceridwen and started to get into her trousers.

  “Odd,” Lachlan said. “I heard your aunt’s last comment but not the ones before.”

  Maggie snorted. “Not odd at all. Chloe was in rare form. When she gets really angry, it’s hard for her to hang onto her spells. She’s always had that problem.”

  He watched the goddess out of the corners of his eyes. It was apparent Ceridwen had some level of comfort with modern devices, like Maggie’s phone.

  If she could learn, so can I.

  “Either ye come here and help us, or doona meddle.” Ceridwen wasn’t exactly shouting, but she wasn’t far from it. Her voice held an undercurrent of cold steel.

  “Wish I felt comfortable telling my aunt to go pound sand.” Maggie finished dressing and grimaced. “I’ve always placated her. The other women gradually accepted that I wasn’t interested in being part of the coven and their magic, but Chloe always gave me grief.” She leveled her intense, blue gaze at Lachlan. “What happens next?”

  “I doona know, lass, but I have a feeling the goddess has something in mind. ’Tis why she conjured her cauldron—to concentrate her power.”

  “I thought we did that when we made love.”

  He smiled. “Aye, I could feel the verra earth move.”

  “Och, you Scots.” She aped his brogue and punched his arm. Her brow furrowed, and she undid enough clothing to peer at her upper arm. “I didn’t look when I was getting my clothes on. Is that what I think it is? It’s hard to tell from this angle and without a mirror.”

  “What do ye think it is?”

  “A dragon tattoo.”

  Lachlan nodded. “Without even looking, I’m certain ’tis twin to the one I bear.”

  “I understand the reason you’re marked, but why me?” She captured her lower lip between her teeth, no doubt considering her own question.

  Lachlan drank her in. No matter what her expression, Maggie was the most entrancing woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He could’ve watched her forever.

  “Hey.” She poked his side. “You’re staring at me like a lovesick teenager. I asked you a question.”

  “The simplest answer is because I’m bonded to Kheladin. As my mate, ye’re bonded to the both of us.” He hesitated. “Ye’re so bonny, lass. I love looking at you—”

  “Here.” Ceridwen waved the phone at Maggie. “Take this infernal piece of modern life b
ack.”

  Maggie strolled over to her. “Thanks for not dropping it into your cauldron.”

  “Please. Even if I did, it wouldna harm it.” Ceridwen spat into the cauldron before shrugging back into her robe. “That aunt of yours is the most annoying woman. ’Tis amazing she’s still alive.”

  “Is she coming here?”

  “What do ye think?” Ceridwen speared Maggie with her inky gaze.

  “Well, she’s a bully, but she’s also a coward, so my first guess would be no.”

  “Ye’d be correct. Lachlan, get over here. I developed a plan while the two of you blessed my grove.”

  He trotted to Maggie’s side and linked arms with her. The cauldron bubbled like an angry mud pot. Questions circulated in his mind, but he wanted to hear what Ceridwen had come up with first. In truth, he didn’t understand enough about a world where people took to the skies in motor-driven tubes to be of much use.

  “Come stand on my side of the kettle, children. I shall turn it to a scrying pool. Lass, no matter what ye see or how ye feel about it, doona touch the surface of the liquid. Keep quiet as well. Once we have seen the lay of things, we shall act.”

  Lachlan led Maggie next to Ceridwen. He flanked the goddess on her other side. “Do ye wish us to touch you?”

  “Aye. A hand from each of you on my shoulders, touching flesh. Doona move or break contact, no matter what.” Ceridwen pushed her robe back, baring porcelain skin dusted with gold.

  Maggie dropped a hand on the goddess’ shoulder and sucked in a breath. The heat radiating from Ceridwen’s body must’ve surprised her, but she kept quiet as instructed. Lachlan nodded to himself. ’Twas good the lass wasn’t always oppositional, and she could do as she was bid if it was important enough.

  He stared at the glassy surface of the cauldron and felt the goddess’ magic rise and swirl around them. In moments, the liquid formed a picture, followed by others in rapid succession. He recognized Rhukon, Connor, and the Morrigan. All sat watch over a complex piece of magic that formed an opaque wall. Something silvery gleamed behind it.