Dragon Maid (13 page)

He returned to his seat and addressed the remaining half-sandwich, consuming it in just a few bites. “Let’s see if I have this straight. The Morrigan used Connor and Rhukon to solicit cooperation from men fighting on the side she wanted to lose.” At Britta’s nod, he went on. “Why’d they stick with her after the fighting was done?”

“The dragons liked the battle crow, and she enjoyed the adulation. Most of the other Celtic gods have always looked down on the Morrigan. They’ve allowed as how she was one of them but in a bit of an inferior capacity. I doona know for certain, but I believe she kept the dragon shifters close to boost her sense of self-importance.”

“After hundreds of years, the partnership just sort of stuck,” Jonathan murmured, half to himself. “Had enough to eat?”

“What else have ye?”

He remembered Belgian chocolates tucked away in a high cupboard and got the box. “Here.” He opened it and set it on the table. “Sweets.”

She plucked one from its fluted paper cup and popped it into her mouth. The amazed expression on her face almost made him laugh. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting the rich confection. “Mmmm. Wonderful,” she said once she could talk and grabbed another.

“Yes. They are. Mauvreen knows I like them, so she brings them to me.” He picked a piece he knew had cordial inside.

“Mauvreen’s been around your whole life, but she talks differently. Now I think about it, she sounds a lot like Lachlan’s mate.”

“Because both of them are from the States.”

“Which states?”

“The New World?”

“Och, aye. Across the great ocean.”

He nodded. “Mauvreen’s been here for, maybe, fifty years. But she still sounds like the New Yorker she started out as.” Britta looked confused, so he hurried on. “New York is one of fifty United States, but none of that is especially important.”

“We’re done feeding our bodies,” she noted coyly.

“Maybe I can really make love with you this time.” His cock stirred, hardening against his upper leg. “We can start in the bathtub. I’ll wash your body and your hair and then we’ll—”

“Doona be telling me. Show me.” She laid the heels of her hands on the table and got to her feet; her robe puddled on the floor when she slid it off her shoulders.

He tossed his robe over hers, wound his arms around her, and crushed his mouth down on hers. Despite their earlier lovemaking, need was sharp and so urgent it stole his breath away. He ran his hands down her back and gripped the globes of her ass, lifting her easily onto his erection. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders, and tightened her pussy muscles around him. She tore her mouth from beneath his. “Bath,” she rasped, smiling like a mischievous imp. “I thought ye said the first thing was a bath.”

“Do you want to stop?” He thrust his hips against her, burying himself to the hilt.

“Nay.” She threw back her head, neck corded with lust, and laughed. “I want you to fuck me. Fast and hard. The bath can wait.”

“Remember,” he growled. “You asked for this.” He slid his forearms beneath her buttocks to balance her weight better and moved his cock in little tantalizing circles inside her.

“Oooch.” She writhed against him, pushing her clit against his public bone. “Close.” She turned passion-swollen lips upward for his kiss. Soon after he closed his mouth over hers, he felt the rhythmic contractions of her release. Maybe it was the decadence of their position or her unbridled lust, but he couldn’t hold himself back. As soon as he felt her coming, his own climax found its way to the surface. He came hard, shuddering over and over and crying her name.

“Aye, beloved,” she murmured once his body stilled. “’Twas what ye called me. Beloved. I think I rather like it.”

Heart thudding so hard it was a struggle to breathe, he relaxed into their embrace. “About that bath…”

“Och.” She wrinkled her nose. “Now we need it more than ever.”

A Few Hours Earlier

Kheladin drew Tarika close and summoned magic to transport them to Fort William. “What think ye of the new bond?” The walls of his cave disappeared beneath them.

“It feels…strange. I have been linked, talon and claw, to Britta for so long, it feels as if a part of me is missing.” She blew a plume of smoke. “What is even stranger, though, is her fascination with Jonathan. Not that I’m not pleased by the turn of events, mind ye, but I thought sure she’d be a maid forever.”

“’Tis far more than infatuation,” Kheladin informed her. “It has the feel of Lachlan and Maggie’s bond.”

“Aye, ye’re right about that, which is why I bit him to formalize their mating.”

Kheladin chuckled. “Aye, and ye dinna wish to risk Britta changing her mind.”

“Mayhap that too. ’Tis a good thing he makes her happy. When I met Britta, she was an overly serious maid, and she grew into a woman with grim edges.”

“All dragon shifters are dour at times,” Kheladin concurred. “’Tis because they forego much to be bonded to us.”

Scales rattled as Tarika shook herself. “I miss flying places. Having to be shrouded in magic is trying. ’Tisn’t far from Inverness to where we are going. We could have taken to the skies and—”

“I havena been here long,” Kheladin cut in, “but there are no dragons, except for us, that is.”

“So?”

“Maggie says modern people have weapons that could shoot us out of the skies.”

“We’re immortal, or have ye forgotten?”

“Nay. I havena forgotten, but it could take long years to repair our bodies if they are too badly broken.”

“And we must save our strength for the battle that matters. Doona mind me. I stayed too long at Fire Mountain. ’Twill take a wee bit of time afore I’m familiar with the realities of living in this world.”

“Let us hope the world remains intact long enough for ye to get your wish.”

“Do ye believe straits are so dire?” Tarika asked.

“Aye, but doona take my word for it. Ye can speak with Maggie’s grandmother and Mauvreen, two powerful witches.”

“Aye, I met the one. A wee bit on the overbearing side.”

Kheladin laughed. “Wait till ye meet Mary Elma. She makes Mauvreen look like a piker. It willna be long, we are nearly there.”

He brought them down in the warded yard outside Mauvreen’s house. The witches must have been expecting them because they sat on the bottom porch step, mugs of something that smelled alcoholic in hand.

Mary Elma sprang to her feet and trotted toward them. “Where is that granddaughter of mine? And her consort.”

Kheladin blew a plume of smoke skyward. “I’m thinking Lachlan might see Maggie as
his
consort, but it doesna make all that much difference. They are at her home in Inverness—”

“—fucking each other’s brains out.” Mary Elma rolled her dark eyes and raked her hands through long, black hair flecked with gray. Her black skirt brushed the ground, and a long black tunic encased her wraith-thin upper body.

“Don’t be hard on them.” Mauvreen came forward. “They’ve only just discovered one another. I remember what it was like to be young.”

“Do you now?” Mary Elma turned a sour expression on her friend. “Maybe I’m just too old and withered to remember the feel of a man’s cock—”

“Bullshit!” Mauvreen said succinctly. “Just last Beltane, you had so many men, I was a bit jealous. At one point, they were lined up to sample you.”

Mary Elma’s alabaster complexion turned the color of fresh blood. “Hmph. I’d forgotten you were there.”

Mauvreen shot her a triumphant smile. “You might borrow a page from my book. I’m not begrudging Johnny a minute he can steal with his dragon shifter, not now when he’s finally met a woman who’s worthy of him.”

“You always sounded more like his mother than anything else,” Mary Elma huffed.

“And why not? The poor boy never had a mother.”

“Of course he did. She just didn’t want to blow her cover as a virgin goddess. Enough of this.” Mary Elma walked around Kheladin to Tarika and stared up. “I suppose your mage is the one who’s taken up with Jonathan?”

Tarika exchanged glances with Kheladin. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, hoping she wouldn’t antagonize Mary Elma. Tarika exhaled steam. “Aye, ye’d be correct.” She inclined her head toward Mary Elma. “Ye must forgive me. I am not used to such things being bandied about quite so openly.”

“Maybe they’d like something to eat?” Mauvreen suggested cheerily.

Kheladin brightened. “Is there a forested area nearby where we might hunt?”

Mary Elma joined her friend and poked her. “What were you going to offer them? Watercress sandwiches?”

“For the love of Pete, Mary. Give it a rest.” Mauvreen blew out an annoyed-sounding breath. “I was just trying to be a good host. If what they need is a cow or sheep, there’s not much I can do about it.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Tarika said hastily. “Mayhap we could use this time afore our bond mates return for you to catch me up—and Kheladin, too, though he’s had greater opportunity than me to accustom himself to how things are now.”

“What would you like to know?” Mary Elma sank onto the grass in a cross-legged sit.

Tarika and Kheladin lay on their bellies, snouts at ground level, one on either side of Mary Elma. “I’ll just refresh our drinks.” Mauvreen plucked the mug from Mary Elma’s hand and strode into the house.

Kheladin considered the witch’s question. “For starters, did ye realize the Morrigan and two dragon shifter pairs were a menace afore Lachlan hooked up with your granddaughter?”

Mary Elma pursed her lips into a thin line. “Not exactly. We understood Earth faced serious threats from multiple sources, but we didn’t believe there were magical creatures involved.”

“We certainly didn’t,” Mauvreen chimed in. She handed Mary Elma’s mug back and sat next to her, rucking her skirts up around her legs. “We spent a lot of time worrying about carbon emissions and pollution and the degradation of the ozone layer.”

“Translate, please,” Tarika said.

Kheladin placed a foreleg under his head. “’Tis a fancy way of saying Earth is dying. While important, what is critical here is that our enemies masked themselves well enough the witches dinna know of their existence.”

“The witches in question are feeling pretty damned stupid,” Mary Elma snarled. “I was in the airplane that the Morrigan shanghaied. The second it veered off course and ended up in magical stasis, I knew exactly what I faced. Thank the goddess, it wasn’t too late to launch countermeasures.”

“What airplane?” Tarika asked. “Actually, back up. What’s an airplane?”

“A mechanical device that flies just like you do,” Mauvreen said.

Mary Elma tightened her jaw. “The Morrigan forced the airplane off course to keep me away from Maggie. Damned battle crow! She knew once I got near my granddaughter, I’d be able to protect her.”

Kheladin picked his next words carefully. “Do you suppose if all the covens, and whoever else has magic, joined forces that you could help us?”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Mary Elma narrowed her eyes.

“We need to craft a plan to disable the red and black wyverns and their mages,” Kheladin replied.

“What about the battle crow?” Mauvreen asked.

“He’s hoping the Celts will step up to the plate,” Mary Elma muttered. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, though.” She cleared her throat. “Before you and Lachlan showed up a couple of days ago, freshly back from the fifteen hundreds, the Celts were trying to squirm out of any responsibility at all for the Morrigan.”

“Aye, and their position hasna changed,” Tarika pointed out. “They did the same just now in Kheladin’s cave.”

“What? They showed up after I left?” Mauvreen’s nostrils flared. Both dragons nodded. Mauvreen cocked her head to one side and furled her brows. “What exactly happens if we can’t corral any of them? Not the Morrigan. Not the red wyvern, nor the black, nor their respective mages.”

Mary Elma opened her mouth and then closed it with a snap.

She doesna know,
Kheladin thought.
Good she’s not willing to guess.

Mary Elma fixed her dark gaze on him. “If I were to guess, dragon—yes, I’ve been in your mind—I fear my worst conjecture would pale against reality.”

Kheladin’s estimation of Mary Elma edged upward. “None of us knows, not precisely. What seems likely, since the Morrigan feeds on chaos, is she will continue to push men into battle against one another until the Earth lays in ruin and there’s nothing left.”

“I suppose there’s no way to kill her,” Mauvreen ventured.

Tarika snorted. “She’s a god. They’re immortal.”

“Details.” Mauvreen waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“Even if we somehow incapacitate the black and red dragons and their mages, what’s to stop the Morrigan from recruiting other helpers?” Tarika asked.

“Nothing,” Mary Elma snapped. “Damn it. This isn’t hopeless, but it’s the hardest problem I’ve come up against. And I’ve dealt with some doozies.”

“We might be able to imprison all three and hold them behind magical shielding,” Kheladin suggested.

“Who’s going to provide the constant influx of magic to do that?” Mauvreen pulled a few blades of grass from the lawn and chewed on them.

“The Fire Mountain dragons,” Tarika said.

“What?” Kheladin looked at her aghast. “Ye’d pollute our home?”

“If it was the only place,” she said. “There’s magic aplenty, and we could confine them in the depths of the mountain where we keep dragons who have gone astray.”

“How the hell would you get them there?” Mary Elma asked.

Kheladin snorted. “One at a time.”

“I doona think so,” Tarika demurred. “If we were to do it that way, ’twould alert the others, and we would never catch them unaware enough to capture them.”

Mauvreen spit out the grass and drank from her mug. “There’s got to be a way to solve this,” she muttered.

Kheladin thought the same. “I agree. ’Twill take a combined effort from us all, though.”

“Not in a large battle,” Tarika cautioned. “It would feed the Morrigan’s battle lust and make her even stronger, and harder to defeat. As it is, she’s escalating her efforts because she’s frantic about Maggie and Lachlan finally finding one another.”