“No, Brastias!” She stopped when she realized she’d snapped at him. Gods invading her body brought out that reaction. But the warrior had done nothing wrong.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No need to apologize, Morfyd.” He gave her a warm smile, never angry at her sudden and abrupt changes of mood brought on by the constantly shifting winds of Magick. “Go. We’ll have food waiting for you when you get back.”
And he knew she’d be fairly starving after working Magick. The man is absolutely perfect.
He smirked. “If we can find a cow laying around that is.”
She glared at him before storming off. Sarcastic bastard.
* * *
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What?” Briec looked up from the game he’d been playing with Éibhear for the last hour. So focused on the pieces and his next move, Briec barely noticed Éibhear kept staring at him.
“I said why are you being so nice?”
“Can’t I be nice to my baby brother?”
“No.”
Briec chuckled, but it choked off when a bleeding, raging Gwenvael stormed in with a bruised, less bloody, but equally raging Talaith wrapped in his tail.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded as Gwenvael tossed Talaith at his feet.
“That mad bitch stabbed me!”
“You were in my way!” Talaith yelled back.
Growling, fangs showing, Gwenvael moved on her. But Briec stepped between the two, staring his younger brother down, and baring his own fangs.
“I know, brother, you haven’t lost your reason.”
“She’s crazy. You haven’t had her yet. So I say we dine on her this evening before she kills us all in our sleep.”
Although human males were fair game to his brother, there was no woman alive Gwenvael had ever “dined” on. At least not that way. And the way the big gold tried to look around Briec to glare at Talaith told him Gwenvael merely wanted to terrify her. Which was good. Because Briec’s desire to protect this female—against his own kin, no less—confused him. He had no idea what he’d do if Gwenvael actually tried to hurt Talaith.
“Éibhear, take care of our brother’s scratch, would you?”
“Scratch? You call this a scratch?” He pointed at the wound with his claw and it took much not to wince at it. “She nearly took my eye out!”
“Don’t over-dramatize, Gwenvael,” Éibhear chastised while helping Talaith to her feet by letting her grab hold of one of his talons. “When I’m done, you’ll be fine.”
“This is my den. I want her out.”
Briec snorted a laugh before he had the chance to stop it and he thought for sure Gwenvael would try to remove his head. But Éibhear grabbed Gwenvael’s forearm.
“Stop it, Gwenvael.” He motioned to his brother with his tail. “Come.”
Éibhear walked off, dragging a glaring Gwenvael behind him.
Briec watched until he was sure Gwenvael was gone. What he found entertaining was that Talaith actually thought him distracted enough not to notice her attempt to sneak away.
He slammed the tip of his tail in front of her and she screamed, then kicked it.
“Gods damn that thing!”
“You harmed my brother, m’lady.”
She turned to face him. “You said yourself it was only a scratch.”
“I said that in the hope of keeping you from becoming his next midnight snack. I left that blade on you because I trusted you not to use it. Especially not to use it on my kin.”
She had the decency to look a bit ashamed. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wanted to leave.”
Apparently he owed his brother much if he prevented her from leaving.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“You are joking.”
“No. I’m not. I want to hear your reasons. I want to know what it is about me and my brothers you find so horrifying you’d rather brave the wrath of the gods than stay here with us?”
Even deep within Gwenvael’s den they could hear the thunder and lightning strikes dotting the land around them. This was not the kind of weather anyone, human or dragon, should be out in.
“You’re dragons. Our most hated enemies.”
He rolled his eyes and sat back on his haunches. “Honestly, little witch, I know you can do better than that.”
She sighed. A great heaving sigh. And her shoulders dropped. She shook her head slowly, her brown eyes locked on the ground at her feet.
“I just can’t stay.”
* * *
If only he was as stupid as the one she called husband. If only he cared so little for anything but himself, he’d never know when she was lying.
Not that spending her life among scales and tails held much pleasure for her. But for the first time since that fateful day Arzhela and her priestesses came for her had Talaith felt content. Not quite happy, but she’d never really been a happy person.
As her mother used to joke—on those rare occasions the woman joked about anything—”Nolwenn witches and happy…words simply never used in the same sentence.”
And she really didn’t mean to hurt Gwenvael, but he’d given her no choice.
“Answer me, Talaith.”
Damn that dragon voice. The way Briec said her name—it curled around her like a warm blanket. But she didn’t dare look him in the eyes. Those violet eyes tore right through her.