Dragon Actually

afraid to fight, but too terrified for their leader to run away.

And then Brastias saw the girl do something he would never forget.

She kicked the beast. Right in the knee.

Brastias and Danelin exchanged glances.

“Well, you always thought she was insane,” Brastias offered.

“I didn’t think I was right.”

 “You lying toe-rag!” she yelled up at him.

“Let me explain.”

“Go to hell!”

“Annwyl.”

“No!” She headed back to her tent. “Leave me, dragon. I never want to see you, or your family, again. Ever!”

Danelin glanced at Brastias. “Family?”

“Don’t ask.”

The dragon silently watched Annwyl’s retreating form. He began chanting and flame surrounded him. That’s when Brastias wondered if he would die this day. The flames grew, enveloping the beast, but eventually the flames died away, leaving a very large, very naked man.

With a growl, he followed after Annwyl, disappearing into the tent after her.

“So they can shape-shift then?” Danelin asked quietly.

“Seems so.”

“Should we go after him?”

Brastias looked at Danelin. It took him awhile, but he’d finally figured out what he’d just witnessed. A lover’s quarrel. Leave it to Annwyl.

“Uh . . . I think not. We need to ready the troops. And let’s ready them somewhere away from camp, I think.”

He glanced at the tent, shook his head, and walked off. A quaking Danelin followed quietly behind.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“You want me to talk? Fine. How’s your father?”

“How do you think he is? You stabbed him in the foot.”

“I would have aimed for his heart, but I wasn’t sure he actually had one. Do any of you have one?”

“Annwyl, I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

“Why?”

“I . . . uh . . .” He didn’t know this would be so hard. Was he joking? Of course, he knew it would be this hard!

“Still waiting.” He got the feeling he could claim being one of the few who actually got her this angry. Funny, that didn’t seem like such a good thing to him at the moment.

“I was going to tell you. I swear.”

“Really? You were going to tell me?” Her sarcasm thick, her bitterness filled the tent. He couldn’t blame her. He’d asked for this.

“Yes, Annwyl, I was. Today. My father just beat me to it.”

“And why didn’t you tell me before?”

He moved into the room toward her. She took a step back, drawing her sword. “Everything changed.”

He stood before her now, her blade at his throat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Annwyl. I wanted you, more than anything. And I didn’t know how to tell you the truth without losing you. You trusted the dragon, but you absolutely hated the man. I needed you to accept all of me. Today I thought maybe you could.”

He took a step forward and felt the tip of the blade just pierce his flesh. A trickle of blood eased down his neck to his chest. Annwyl’s breath came out in short gasps as she stared into his eyes. “You could kill me now. Easily. If that’s what you want.” He moved in a bit more. Any more and the blade would tear through his throat and kill him. “Is that what you want, Annwyl?”

She stared at him for several long moments. “Yes, Fearghus,” she growled out. “It is.”

Not the answer he’d hoped for, but he was quickly distracted by the pain in his knee where she kicked him.

He barked in agony as she pushed him out of her way and moved a safe distance from him, against the far tent wall beside her bed. “Luckily for you, I owe you my life. Bastard.”

Annwyl knew her rage could snap loose at any moment.

She wanted to run the lying bastard through. Wanted him to know the pain she’d suffered when she’d realized the truth. Fearghus knew she had little knowledge of dragons except they were something to fear. She had no idea they could turn human. Live as human. And, based on what they’d been doing all over his glen recently, mate as human. She felt like a fool. A whore and a fool. And she hated him for making her feel that way. So, yes. She did want to see him dead. His blood on her sword. And although he gave her the perfect opportunity, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. At the moment, she hated herself for that weakness.

He rubbed his knee and looked at her. “I need you to calm down so we can talk about this.”

“I hate you.”

He stood to his full height, already recovered from the blow. Clearly he wasn’t that easy to kill as human. Any other man would be nursing a shattered knee from that practiced kick.

“Can’t you give me a chance?”

“No.” He seemed startled by that.

“Can’t you even try?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me you feel nothing for me?”

“I felt for the dragon who rescued me. Took care of me.”

“And the man?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I felt for him . . . you . . . whatever.”

For the first time, she was lying. She knew exactly what her feelings for the man were. Lust. Pure, simple, and quite exquisite. But she couldn’t tell him that. She could never admit that to him now. Even as she had to cross her arms in front of her chest to hide her hardening nipples or that damn distracting pulse coming from between her thighs. No, she could never admit any of that to him.

But when she glanced up at him, she realized he already knew. Just by the expression on his handsome face.

Fearghus moved to her again so that he stood in front of her. Brave man, she thought with intense bitterness. He looked down at her, then lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers. He didn’t try to kiss or grab her. He simply rested against her. And it felt wonderful.

She stood stock still, wondering exactly what he was up to until she heard him whisper, “I’m so sorry, Annwyl. Please. Please forgive me.”

No. He wouldn’t get out of this with a simple apology. Not in a million years. Even with an apology as sweet and heartfelt as that.

“There is nothing you can ever say or do that will make me forgive you,” she whispered back.

He pulled away from her and stared. She wondered what he was thinking, but she wasn’t expecting the grin that spread across his face.

“Was that a challenge, Lady Annwyl?”

Her face grew hot as she pushed away from him. “It was most certainly not!” She scrambled away from him, scooting around the table. He stood on the other side, his hands resting against the hard wood.

“It sounded like a challenge.”

“It was not a challenge, but a statement of fact. I will never forgive you.”

“Challenge.”

“Stop saying that!” She tried to look away from him, but she kept seeing his gloriously naked body. But when she looked up into his eyes, she kept seeing him. His soul. Staring at her.

She moved around the table again and he slowly followed, every muscle moving, anticipating the chase.

He looked at her and she found herself marveling at how long those black lashes of his were.