Dragon Maid (8 page)

Lachlan made a rude noise between a snort and a grunt. “I wouldna put it past her. Mayhap she was just as interested in him as you.”

“Rhukon seemed thrilled he’d found the two of us.” Britta recalled his words. “He said something about a
bonus to boot
after he gloated over finding me.”

“None of this is sounding good.” Maggie frowned. “Say, would it protect Jonathan if he, um, hooked up with you?” She focused disingenuous blue eyes on Britta. “It already seems you two like one another.”

Lachlan elbowed his mate. “Wanting to spread connubial bliss about, lass?”

She grinned. “Aw, gee. Am I so transparent?” All of them turned to her. A chorus of
yesses
and
ayes
rose just before everyone burst into laughter.

“I don’t need protection,” Jonathan sputtered once the merriment died down.

Lachlan quirked a brow. “Ye lust after Britta.”

Color stained Jonathan’s face, turning his tanned skin a bronzy gold. “Christ! Are all of you this…frank? It takes more than sex to make a lasting partnership.”

Mauvreen horned in. “How would you know? You’ve been avoiding female entanglements your entire adult life.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a resident mother. You fill the void nicely,
Aunt
Mauvreen.”

She cupped a hand to the side of her mouth and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m not really his aunt. I’m much too young.”

“Enough.” Britta waved a fist in the air for emphasis. She tugged at Jonathan’s hand, still encased in hers. “Come. Let’s go to where we can have some privacy. Tarika’s been giving me hell ever since you told us who your mother was. She wants to talk with you too.”

“What about
battle strategy
?” Lachlan mimicked Jonathan’s earlier words.

“Honestly!” Maggie dragged him toward where Kheladin held court in the middle of a gaggle of witches. “You’re impossible.”

Their words faded as they walked away. “I thought ye appreciated my sense of humor.”

“I do. Where’s your sense of romance?”

He spun Maggie and closed his mouth over hers. Britta knew she was staring, but she felt the intensity of their attraction from thirty paces. “There.” Lachlan lifted his lips from Maggie’s. “Enough romance for you, lass?”

“Maybe not.” She grinned. “Do it some more.”

“They seem happy,” Jonathan murmured.

“Aye, that they do. Ready for a bit of conversation?” He nodded.

“I was just leaving.” Mauvreen slipped away.

“Looks as if everyone’s left us alone,” he noted.

“Aye, but witches and dragons have sharp ears. I’d feel better if we put a wee bit of distance betwixt us and the crowd, and warded our words.” She turned and walked toward the sound of running water at the far end of the cave. She was thirsty, plus the waterfall would be an added deterrent in case anyone wanted to listen in. They put a good fifty yards between themselves and the others in the cave. To be on the safe side, she added a bit of magic to mute their words and shield them from prying eyes.

She ducked her cupped hands into the icy pool and drank deeply. Jonathan did the same. Tarika had kept up a running commentary. The dragon liked the idea of them having a mate.
“…And once we’ve bedded him, we can let Kheladin and Lachlan lead us through the new bonding ceremony.”

“Jonathan isn’t a foregone conclusion.”
Britta knew her mind voice was snappish, but the dragon’s rapid about-face unbalanced her.

“He’s practically family,”
the dragon crowed.
“One of my distant cousins bedded Arianrhod about a thousand years ago.”

“What?”
Britta blew out a frustrated breath.
“The supposed virgin goddess fucked everything with a dick?”

Tarika laughed.
“Hardly. My cousin was verra handsome, black-scaled with blue-green eyes. ’Twas afore the black dragons fell out of favor. It doesna matter. We should make this one ours. I will help with the mating bite.”

“Doona do it yet. He and I must talk.”

Jonathan laid a wet hand over hers. “You and Tarika are talking. I sensed the energy, but I didn’t want to listen in. Would you like me to take a walk and come back in a while?”

Britta shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis ye and I who must figure some things out. Tarika’s mind is already made up.” She summoned her mage light. Away from the phalanx of witches, the cave was dim. “I know why I have kept to myself. Why have ye not married?”

His throat worked; he drew his brows together. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he started talking. “Lots of reasons. I was afraid my genetics were flawed.” He blew out a breath. “After all, Da was crazy.”

“Ye’re not a virgin,” she pressed.

He dropped his gaze. “I suppose you would know things like that. No, I’m not, but for a guy closer to forty than thirty, I’ve had painfully little experience.”

“Why? ’Tis not just ye were worried ye’d produce defective children. There are ways to prevent such things.”

“Persistent, aren’t you?” But he smiled.

She didn’t smile back. “’Tisn’t easy to become a dragon shifter. I was extremely focused for all the years afore I took myself to Fire Mountain in search of a dragon, and for long years after. I was verra young when Tarika and I bonded, so I had much magical education to make up for, even after we merged.” She blew out a breath. “Ye’ll just ask me anyway, so I’ll save you the trouble by telling you.”

“Telling me what?”

“I avoided men for two reasons. No one appealed to me, and they all wanted to control me, to ally with my father’s holdings. They saw me as chattel, not a person. I had no interest in any master beyond the magic in my blood, and Tarika wouldn’t have stood for it.”

“What about other dragon shifters?”

“Such a pairing might have worked, but I never met one I particularly cared for. Humans put land and holdings first; dragon shifters hold magic dear. Even if I’d found a mage I was attracted to, I would have placed third, right after his dragon and his grimoire.”

Jonathan chuckled. “You shouldn’t play second fiddle to anything.”

“Thank you. ’Twas the way I saw it.” She bowed slightly. “Your turn.”

He nodded. “All right. I had a couple of girlfriends in high school. Once they came home and met Da, that did it. They ran screaming for the hills. He’d do things like lay his hands on their head and tell them their future—no matter how hideous it was. Of course, everything he said came true, but no sixteen-year-old girl wants to know she’ll die of cancer in six years or her parents are having affairs with other people.”

“Aye, I can see where it would have been a wee problem.” She narrowed her eyes. “’Tis been long years since your da left, why are ye still alone?”

He smiled crookedly. “I’ve asked myself the same question. Beyond the simple release of sex—and lust became less urgent as I grew older—I guess I never found anyone who pulled my heartstrings—or sang to my soul.”

“Och aye, ’tis verra beautiful. Ye spin words like a poet, Jonathan.” She cloaked her magic. She could give him the tiniest push but didn’t want to. He had to want her for her, not because she’d employed compulsion. She tilted her chin up. “What do ye think of me?”

“Truth?”

“Of course.” She girded herself to hear him say she was very beautiful, but…

“Ever since I laid eyes on Tarika when you sought help from Kheladin, I haven’t been able to think of anything but the two of you. Protecting you from the Morrigan was automatic. I’d have done something, anything, to give you an opportunity to flee to safety. In that moment, I understood I’d lay down my life to preserve yours.” He winked lazily. “Of course, I didn’t realize you were immortal at the time, but even if I had, I’d still have done the same thing.”

Britta swallowed around the lump in her throat. She blinked furiously. His words touched her core, but she did not want to cry. “Thank you.”

His gaze speared her, amber eyes alight with desire, and more too. A feral protectiveness colored their depths. He took a breath and went on. “I’m so attracted to you, my cock’s been hard the whole time we’ve been together. Even when we were separated, all I had to do was think of you, and I got so hard I ached with wanting you. That hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager.”

Britta glanced to where the front of his pants belled out. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his bulge, wanted the cock beneath for her own. Her mouth went dry. Her nipples pebbled into points. Her crotch flooded with moisture. Britta slid Maggie’s jacket off her shoulders and tossed her hair out of the way to bare her breasts. Deep in her mind, Tarika cheered her on.

Jonathan’s gaze roved from her perfect face, glorious hair, and flawless breasts downward to the tangle of red-gold curls in the vee between her legs. The air around Britta took on a luminous quality; Tarika’s outline formed.
“Ye must want me too,”
the dragon said. Shadowy wings fluttered.

“I do,”
Jonathan replied.
“You’re as amazing as your bond mate.”

The dragon didn’t hesitate. Britta’s form blurred; jaws closed around the juncture between his neck and shoulder and bit deep. It hurt, but Tarika’s bite opened him to the wonder of her mind. Arcane memories crowded behind his eyes. Images merged kaleidoscopically, even more compelling than his peek into her mind when they’d fought the Morrigan.

“’Tis enough.” Britta stood before him again, nimble fingers busy with the buttons on his shirt. “Tarika was supposed to wait until we mated.”

“Not necessarily.”
The dragon sounded smug.
“If there are rules, show them to me, and I will bite him again if needs be.”

“I can hear her without summoning the magic I usually need for telepathic speech.”

“Aye, ’tis because she accepted you.” Britta snorted. “Ye may wish for the peace and quiet of your own mind afore too long.”

“Why would he?”
Tarika inquired archly.

Britta pushed at his shirt. He laid his hands over hers. “Wait a minute. I have to unzip the jacket first.”

“Unzip?”

He pointed. “Button replacements.”

She bent and peered at the metal teeth. “Cunning how they mesh together. When was this invented?”

He slipped his jacket and shirt off his shoulders and dropped them on the cave’s sandy floor. His body was electric with arousal. Even the dragon’s bite thrummed with unfilled need. “Does it really matter?” His voice rasped with passion, and he held out his arms.

Footsteps pounded toward them. Kheladin surged forward with Lachlan by his side, right through Britta’s privacy shielding. “Excellent.” The dragon beamed, double rows of teeth gleaming in the glow from Britta’s mage light.

“Yes,” Lachlan chimed, sounding excited. “We felt Tarika’s mating bite from the far side of the cave.”

“And came to congratulate you,” Kheladin finished.

“Damn it!” Maggie chugged up behind them. “I told you to at least knock first, or call out, or something.”

“Why?” Lachlan stared at her. “Stop tugging on my arm, lass.”

“Even if Tarika bit him, don’t you think Jonathan and Britta would like more alone time to enjoy one another?” She elbowed Lachlan. “As I recall, we didn’t stop with once.”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “We haven’t even had
once
yet.” He made
go away
motions with both hands.

“Och, sorry.” Lachlan backed up a few steps, looking chagrined.

“Aye, sorry indeed. We shall hold those congratulations for a bit,” Kheladin seconded.

“How sorry could you be?” Britta asked. “You tromped right past my magic to get to us.”

“I’m sure I’ll be even sorrier once Tarika finishes reprimanding me.” Kheladin smirked and turned away.

Maggie blew out a breath. “I had to make love with Ceridwen looking on. The least we can do is give you more of an illusion of being alone. Here, I’ll just add a spot of my own magic to yours.” Power thrummed, and she wove a barrier out of golds and greens. The warp and weft joined Britta’s spell. Maggie’s voice blurred; Jonathan sensed her, Lachlan, and Kheladin leaving.

He shook his head. “Tarika was smart to strike while she had an opportunity.”

“A human who understands me,”
the dragon purred.

“Doona encourage her.” Britta grinned. “There’ll be no living with her.”

While he could still think, before the sexual heat thickened so much it addled his brain, Jonathan looked around them. The sandy floor would do, but it would be better if they padded it with their clothing. He bent and arranged his discarded shirt and jacket, and then filched Maggie’s jacket from where Britta had dropped it.

“Will ye be adding your breeks to the pile?” Britta asked slyly.

“You just want to see me naked.”

“Aye, that too.”

He toed off his boots and unsnapped his trousers. A quick tug maneuvered the zipper past his hard-on. Britta’s voice caught with an audible gasp. She pulled at his pants, clearly anxious to get them out of the way. “’Twould be far easier if ye wore a plaid.” She sounded breathless. “Then we’d simply push it aside.”

“Looks as if we managed.” He stepped out of his pants and shorts and then kicked them toward the rough bed he’d made. Jonathan placed a hand on either side of her face and tilted it up so she met his gaze. “How would you know about such things?”

“I have eyes. I’ve watched humans rutting afore. She lifts her skirts, he lifts his plaid.”

“I don’t care about them. I care about us.” He traced the bones of her face beneath his fingers. “You are so beautiful.”

“So are you.” She fitted her body to his and wrapped her arms around him. Britta trailed her fingertips down his back. “Your skin is like silk, yet I feel such strength in the muscles beneath.”

He closed his mouth over hers, loving the feel of her lips, firm against his. He licked and nibbled until she opened her mouth to his questing tongue. The same sweet taste flooded him. Her hands had traveled to his buttocks. They tightened. She shifted so she straddled one of his legs. The heat of her core seared his thigh.