“All except Gwenvael. He’s enjoying the camp girls, I think.”
“That better be all he’s enjoying,” Fearghus growled out.
Morfyd chuckled. “He tried, but I hear Annwyl handled it.”
“Does he still have his head?”
“For the moment.”
“Sister, I need to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“How did Annwyl survive the flames? Hefaidd-Hen’s flames?”
“Uh . . . well, you know . . . um . . .”
Fearghus jumped up and out of the tub, grabbing his sister by her arms and snatching her completely into the tent. “You let Annwyl face her alone, didn’t you?”
“It was a risk she was willing to take!” Morfyd pulled her arms away and pushed her brother.
“But not a risk that I was willing to take! Not with her life!” Fearghus pushed her back.
“I feel no guilt for what I did. I had to protect her, and the family agreed.”
“I didn’t agree!”
“We didn’t ask you!” She punched her brother in the chest.
“But Annwyl belongs to me.” He slapped his hand over his sister’s face and shoved her.
Morfyd stumbled back and glared at him. “No. She doesn’t.” Morfyd smirked at him. “You haven’t Claimed her.” Fearghus winced at that. His sister spoke true. Until he performed the Claiming Ceremony, Annwyl was as unshackled as a virgin. “You haven’t marked her as your own. So she belongs to no one. Although the way Gwenvael has been looking at her lately, you never know.”
The siblings growled at each other. Then Fearghus pulled his sister into a headlock.
“Ow! Let me go, you crazy bastard!”
He ground his knuckles into the top of her head. “You are the most irritating little—”
“Annwyl, I . . .” Fearghus looked up as Brastias entered the tent. But he took one look at the siblings and walked back out.
Fearghus released his sister and shoved her away so she couldn’t get in a good kick.
“If anything had happened to her . . .”
“But it didn’t. And maybe you didn’t notice, but it saved her life!”
With that Morfyd straightened up her robes, pushed her white hair out of her face, stuck her tongue out at her brother, and left.
Fearghus growled, smoke curling out from his nostrils. “Brat.”
* * *
Annwyl headed back to her tent. She’d grown tired of pushing Gwenvael’s hand off her thigh every ten seconds. Eventually she’d just pulled his fingers back until she heard one of them give a satisfying “snap.” It angered him to no end, but after the past day he really didn’t worry her.
She walked past rows of men feasting and celebrating. Still so much more work to do, but she let the men have their time. They earned it. And they would earn more still. Annwyl knew that she must attack Garbhán Isle and take possession of the castle before she would truly be queen. It galled her that she would have to return to a place she held with such contempt, but the seat of power for Dark Plains was Garbhán Isle. She had no choice. And once done there she would then have to defeat any and all that might still hold loyalty to her brother. Yes, she had much work to do. But tonight she would celebrate. Tonight was special.
She slowed down to stop and glance at the front of camp. There it stood. Her brother’s head on a spike. She smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
“Uh . . . Annwyl?” She looked around to see Danelin standing before her. “You’re scaring the men.”
Annwyl looked at her troops. They’d stopped eating to watch her stare at the remains of her brother. And they did appear a little frightened.
“Sorry.” He made to walk past her, but she stopped him. “Nice work today, Danelin.”
He smiled proudly, nodded, and moved on.
As she neared her tent, Annwyl realized that no troops guarded it. That could only mean one thing.
As she stepped through the flaps, she saw him lounging decadently in a high-backed chair. A fur spread from the bed wrapped around his long, muscular body. His long black hair, recently washed, partially covering his face and chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She became wet at the mere sight of him.
“Lord Dragon.”
“Queen Annwyl.”
This was the first she’d seen of him once the battle turned. He’d gone off to help his family finish off the enemy dragons, she to destroy as many of Lorcan’s men as her troops could get their hands on. But war and sex had now become one for her. Probably forever. She blazed through men, knowing that the sooner she completed her task, the quicker she could return to Fearghus.
“A bath awaits you.” She glanced over at the huge tub. Since she still had her brother’s blood in her hair, a bath might be a good idea.
She moved to the middle of her tent and quickly removed the sheathed swords hanging from her back.
“Slowly.”
She looked up at Fearghus. He watched her closely with those beautiful black eyes of his. The walls of her womb clenched, and it took all her strength not to launch herself at him. Instead, she slowly removed her surcoat. Pulled off her boots and her chainmail. Unbound her breasts and slipped off the material that covered her sex. When done, she stood there. His eyes roved languidly over her. Taking in not only her body but every wound she now wore on it after the day’s battle.
He motioned to the tub with a flick of his eyes. She slipped into it and shivered.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
Throwing off the fur covering, he slowly stood and walked toward her. She studied his body as he came to rest beside the tub. Underneath all those long, hard muscles lay the heart and soul of a dragon. Her dragon. She licked her lips, her only thought, sucking his sweet cock once again into her willing mouth.
Fearghus crouched down next to her. He placed his hand in the tub between her thighs. She’d hoped he would touch her but he didn’t. His hand only rested there until she noticed that the water warmed up, nice and hot. This dragon Magick really did have its uses.
“Relax,” he coaxed her gently. And she did just that, leaning back into the tub. Letting her head rest on the rim.
Fearghus poured water over her hair and soaped up her scalp. He washed the blood and sweat of the day from her hair and eventually her body.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Relaxed?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
Then Annwyl screamed as Fearghus shoved her head under water. He held her down for several long seconds as she fought to get that piece of steel he called an arm off her head. Eventually he released her and she came coughing and sputtering back to air.
“What in all that’s holy—”
He took hold of her shoulders and easily lifted her from the tub. “Listen to me clearly, woman. Never face my family again without me! Ever!You are never and I mean never to risk your life like that again! Are we clear?”
Annwyl pulled away from him and took several stumbling steps back. “No! We are not clear!” She turned on him. “I did what I had to. And I’d do it again! And I’m not afraid of your family!”
“Annwyl,” he warned through gritted teeth.
“No! I don’t want to hear it!” She fought to get the strands of wet brown hair out of her eyes. “Do you have any idea what I went through today? In just one day I stood in the dragon’s flame . . . twice!”
“But I—”
“Quiet!” He stood there, startled into silence. “I also had to face that cold bitch you call a mother! I took my own brother’s head! And I was forced to break your brother’s hand because he wouldn’t stop touching me!”