Dragon Actually (33 page)

Rhiannon really wished she could say she hated him. Hating him would make this so easy. She would promise him whatever he asked, wait until he untied her, and then she’d cut his currently human throat with a jagged piece of glass . . . or simply rip his throat out with her teeth. Whatever was convenient.

But she didn’t hate him. And she hated herself for not hating him.

Pathetic female.

She yanked her chain again. When Bercelak decided to leave her alone for a bit, he quickly realized that the headboard wouldn’t last two seconds against her strength and rage. So he wrapped the chain around a pillar and locked it. With an annoyingly happy smile, he kissed her on the cheek with promises of returning and walked out.

That had been nearly an hour ago and he still had not returned.

A soft knock at the door had her grabbing an animal fur from the floor and wrapping it around her body since these human servants reacted so dramatically to any kind of nakedness. Why they would react that way over their own bodies with someone they didn’t lust for, she had no idea.

“Come.” Might as well since clearly she wouldn’t be for quite awhile.

The door pushed open and Ghleanna and Shalin walked in. Gleanna held a tray of food, the smell bringing Rhiannon’s stomach to growling life, and her mother followed with a goblet and decanter.

Rhiannon prayed that was wine she had with her, because she needed to numb her brain before she began destroying things around her for her own amusement.

“We thought you might be hungry.”

“I’d like the key even more.”

The two females looked at each other but, not surprisingly, it was Ghleanna who spoke, “You’ve lost your mind, Princess, if you think we’re about to get between you and my brother on this.”

“Fine!”

She turned, the chain winding around her throat, and stalked back across the room.

“Now, now,” Bercelak’s mother soothed. “No need to get angry. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“Your son is unreasonable.”

“My son is in love.”

At Shalin’s words, Rhiannon spun around, but the chain pulled tight around her throat, snapping her head back.

“Ack!”

Bercelak watched one of his younger brothers pass out and drop to the floor. All that wine . . . he should have known better. His father’s wine could kill an elephant.

His father’s hand slapped him on the back. Anyone else, even dragon, would go flying. But all of Ailean’s children learned to have sturdy backs and good balance.

“Don’t worry, son. You’ll break her.”

Rolling his eyes, “I don’t want to break her. If I wanted that, I’d have chosen one of those insipid royals.”

“But you didn’t choose her,” his brother Caerwyn felt the need to say.

“Her mother may have thrown her to me, but I’d chosen Rhiannon long ago. Everything I’ve done, every battle I’ve won, every rank I’ve earned has been for her. To be worthy of her.”

“You
are
worthy of her.” His father sat down in a chair, putting his feet up on the table. “You’re my son.”

“Oh, yes.
That’s
been quite helpful.”

His brothers and two of his hard-drinking sisters laughed in agreement, but his father looked at his brood in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t know. Your name follows us around like the stink on a dog.”

“Everyone knows you, father,” one of his sisters offered up. “And what they know isn’t good.”

His father, always jovial and smiling, looked suddenly angry. “So you’re saying . . .”

“That you’re an embarrassment? Yes.” Bercelak didn’t mean to be cruel, but he wondered if his time with Rhiannon wouldn’t have been a tad easier if his father hadn’t been known throughout Dark Plains as Ailean the Slag.

“I’m still your father,
boy
! So watch how you speak to me! It’s not my fault you can’t get the little bitch to submit. Perhaps if you were more like me, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

If it hadn’t been for his siblings grabbing hold of him, Bercelak would have torn the old bastard apart.

“Oh, I tried to kill him twice. Almost succeeded that one time.” Rhiannon watched as Bercelak’s sweet mother made a line across her throat with one finger. “Sliced his throat from here to here. But he shifted to dragon before I could finish. His scales prevented him from bleeding to death.”

Rhiannon glanced at Ghleanna, who looked bored and unimpressed. “Why . . . that’s a lovely tale, mistress.”

“No. It’s not. But it is to say that the males of this brood are not looking for shy, retiring mates. The  more you fight my son, the more he wants you. After I cut Ailean’s throat, he Claimed me one moon later.”

“Do you . . .” Rhiannon looked away from Shalin’s steady gaze.

“Do I what?”

“Well . . . ever regret being with him?”

Shalin leaned back in her chair, a soft smile on her lips. “No. I’ve never regretted being with him and I can’t even imagine my life without him. I do, however, regret how hard his reputation is on our offspring.”

Ghleanna snorted as she stared out the window. “That’s a bit of an understatement.” She looked at Rhiannon. “Where my brothers have done well by our father’s reputation, his female offspring have not. I’ve beaten more than my fair share of dragons nearly to death who thought I was some kind of whore they could treat as they liked.”

“Now she sees no one.”

“I won’t be treated like trash, mother. I love my father . . . with all my heart, but there’s not a day that goes by that I forget I’m the daughter of Ailean the Wicked.”

“Your father has done the best for his offspring, Ghleanna. You included. Between you and me, you are one of his favorites. It would hurt him to know this was how you feel.”

“And it hurts me to be alone. And yet, we all must endure.”

If she’d not been chained to the spot, Rhiannon would have left mother and daughter to finish this discussion on their own. If for no other reason than that she felt a bit jealous. A very large bit jealous. Her arguments with her mother were nothing like these. If it hadn’t been for the protection of her father, Addiena probably would have killed her long ago. That was why every new moon she sent a prayer to the gods in honor of her father. Because he above all others loved her.

Now Shalin wanted her to believe that Bercelak loved her. Could he? Could anyone? She wasn’t exactly the easiest being to get along with.

Bercelak’s mother reached over and grasped her daughter’s hand. “We’re here for you, love. If you let me, I can help you,” she said to Ghleanna.

Ghleanna shook her head and looked out the window, but her grip tightened on her mother’s hand. But they were startled from their silent moment when the bedroom door opened and Bercelak entered.

Rhiannon stood up as soon as she saw his face. “Gods, what happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled as he walked across the room. “Just a little discussion with my father.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t fight with him anymore,” his mother accused, standing up so she could get a closer look at her extremely tall son.

“I didn’t. I was arguing with someone else and he decided to end it.”

Rhiannon reached up and touched the black and blue mark around Bercelak’s eye. It startled him, and he turned to her so quickly she snatched her hand back and turned away from him.

“Um . . . we best be going,” Shalin said as she made a hasty retreat. “Come along, Ghleanna.”

Rhiannon heard mother and daughter leave and it took all her strength not to demand they stay.

“Rhiannon?”

“She’s very sweet, your mother.”

“I know.”

“She brought me food and wine. Made sure the collar wasn’t too tight.” Gods, she was babbling.

“Rhiannon—”

“Ghleanna can actually talk to her mother. That must be nice.”

“Rhiannon.” He turned her around to face him. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Avoiding me.”

“I’m not.” Yet she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Really . . . exactly how was she supposed to rule a kingdom?

Bercelak’s big hand gripped her chin and lifted her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Her hand reached up and she gently ran her fingers over his wounded eye. He stared down at her in wary shock, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Gods!

What had the bastard done to her?

This had to be some sort of trick. Some sort of grand trick she thought she could play on him for her own amusement. But her eyes looked so sincere, and her fingers on his face were gentle and so careful.

Gods, was she actually concerned about his welfare? About his health? This had to be progress. Yet, she looked appalled at herself for even asking.

“I’ll be all right. I’ve taken worse hits. Growing up in this family, you learn to deal with surprise attacks.”

She pulled her hand away. “Good. Yes, very good.”

Rhiannon tried to turn away, but he pulled her back around again. “Aren’t you going to greet me?”

“Greet you?”

He nodded and leaned down until his lips hovered over hers. “Anytime I return from defending your throne you should make sure to greet me like this so that the entire court knows you care for me.”

“I don’t care—” But he cut off her denials with a kiss.

Gods, for someone who didn’t spend much time as human, Rhiannon truly knew how to kiss like one. Her warm tongue teased his, her throaty groans slowly destroying his control.

Somehow, he pulled away from her and Rhiannon looked up with absolute frustration. “
What now?
”

Bercelak pulled the thin silver chain he currently wore around his neck out from under his shirt. He kept the key to Rhiannon’s bondage on it. He unlocked the collar at her throat while she watched him with narrow eyes.

“What is this? What are you up to?”

Taking her hand, he pulled her onto the bed with him. “One of my brothers told me he got word from one of his friends at court . . .” Gods, how did he tell her this? He looked into Rhiannon’s clear blue eyes. They stared at him, waiting. No. There would be no delicate words for his female. She deserved nothing but absolute truth.

“Rumors are flying around court, Rhiannon.”

“Rumors? What kind of rumors?”

“Some are saying your mother wants you dead.”

She shrugged. “I already knew that.”

Rhiannon said it so nonchalantly. Whereas his kin would never believe in a million lifetimes Shalin would ever harm them in anyway, Rhiannon took it for granted her mother would.

“You are handling this much better than I did.” That was actually how he got the black eye. His brother told him the news. He called him a liar. They pushed, they shoved, they yelled, and then the hitting started. It wasn’t until their father, who tolerated no fighting among his offspring, jumped in. With one punch he snapped Bercelak out of his rage, and with one solid backhand across the face, Ailean controlled his younger son.

“What’s there to handle? This is the way of my life. Always has been. My father warned me long ago this time would come. That’s why he made sure I was trained.”

“Trained?”

“Aye. Whether human or dragon I can handle sword, mace, dagger, bow, and whip. I also know many forms of hand-to-hand combat.” She smiled and he saw pride light up her eyes. “And I can do things with flame that would amaze even you.”

He wondered if she even realized he still held her hands while they talked. “Amaze even me, eh?”

“Well . . . as a battle-dragon you must have seen many amazing things.”

Rubbing the back of her knuckles with his thumbs, he said, “Nothing as amazing as you, Rhiannon.”

Startled, she cleared her throat and looked away from him. “So what does this change?”

“Maelona knows a witch who may be able to help you now that you have your full powers. Tomorrow we’ll go see her together.”

“I don’t need you babysitting me, Bercelak. I think I can talk to a witch on my own.”

“She’s a very old dragon, Rhiannon, who will no longer shift to human. And I’ll not risk you.” Old dragons could be a bit unstable. Catch them on the wrong day and they would rip the scales from your body without a second’s thought. And what they were known for doing to humans. . . .

Sighing, she nodded. “Fine.”

“We’ll go in the morning.” Bercelak finally released her hands so he could push the fur from her shoulders. “Tonight I have other plans.”

She tried to hide her smile, but she didn’t do a very good job. “And I wonder what plans those could be.”

“A white dragon, too. Haven’t seen your kind around in a bit.”

Rhiannon sighed heavily, mostly from boredom, as Bercelak stood in front of her, trying to get the old bitch to help them.

Donnfhlaidh, an
old
brown dragon—
I didn’t even know their kind still existed
—had been keeping her waiting for nearly half the hour.

“Mistress,” Bercelak tried again with a patience Rhiannon had become well acquainted with, “we truly need your help.”

“She can’t shift back to dragon, can she?”

“No. She can’t.”

“Well, I can’t help her with that.”

“Fine!” Rhiannon’s patience ran out. She stormed around Bercelak. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will!” she yelled up at her.

The old dragon cackled hysterically. “Gods, Bercelak! Do you know what you’re getting yourself into with this one?”

Rhiannon, uncaring she had no protective scales, growled and moved forward. But something grabbed hold of the back of her gown and she turned to see that the tip of Bercelak’s tail had caught hold of the thick material and held her in place. She glared up at him and he winked.

She really should hate him, except he looked so regal in his full battle-dragon armor worn to impress the old bitch dragon. The metal breastplate, used to protect not only a dragon’s chest but his vulnerable underbelly during battle, fairly glowed with the fire coming from the pit. Bercelak’s was an intricate design of past battles. The detail of the work showed his rank. Then there were the scars covering a good portion of his body. . . .