So she did. To his father. “You are absolutely gorgeous.”
Ailean grinned and looked at his son. “Well, at least we know she has damn good taste.”
“Excuse us.”
Then Bercelak was dragging her from the room, but she continued to stare at Ailean until a door slamming shut in front of her cut off her view.
This wasn’t the first time a female he was intimate with stared at his father with such keen interest. Before he’d never cared. But this was Rhiannon . . .
He turned her to look at him, both hands gripping her upper arms. “Could you have been more obvious?”
She blinked in confusion. “Obvious about what?”
“Your blatant admiration of my father.”
“Well even you have to admit he’s bloody gorgeous!”
He didn’t have to admit a damn thing.
She winced. “Oooh. Well that came out terribly wrong. What I mean is . . . I suddenly understand my mother a little better.” She grabbed onto the arms holding her. “If he looks like that as human, what by the dark gods does his dragon-form look like? It must be magnificent!”
He couldn’t take anymore. Hearing her talk about his father like that filled him with a territorial need he’d never had with any female before.
The grip he had on her arms tightened as he pushed her against the far wall. She only had time to let out a gasp before his mouth covered hers. She struggled, her arms trying to yank away from his hands, but he refused to let her go. Instead he tilted his head to the side, getting a better angle, his tongue thrusting between her lips and into her warm mouth.
He felt her move her leg and not wanting her to shove her knee in his groin, Bercelak pushed his hips forward, trapping her lower body with his own.
She gasped again and his rational mind demanded he release her. But her hips tipped forward the tiniest bit, pushing herself against his rapidly growing erection. He stilled, afraid he might be misreading her, but then her tongue gently rubbed against his.
That was all he needed. He released her arms so he could dig his hands into her hair, holding her head still for his kiss. Her arms, now free, wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Her response, nearly explosive in its carnality, had his legs shaking from lust. His control broken, Bercelak thrust his hips against hers. She groaned into his mouth and his hips thrust again, determined to give them both release.
But a banging on the door stopped him.
“Oi! Brother!” He could hear his brothers laughing hysterically from the other side of the door. “Father begs your attendance at dinner, O mighty battle-dragon, defender of the queen’s throne!”
“And defender of the queen’s daughter!” one of his sister’s yelled as well.
He went to pull away, but Rhiannon clung to his neck with a grip bordering on painful.
“No. Don’t stop,” she panted.
Gods, he’d gotten the spoiled little brat to beg. Well that gave him a nice bit of hope he didn’t have the previous eve.
“Sorry, Princess,” he gasped out. He wondered if she had any idea that no female, dragon or human, had ever made him this desperate before. “My family awaits. And unless you’d like an audience for this, I suggest we go.”
He pulled away, letting his hands slowly fall away from her body. What he wouldn’t give to be able to rip that dress off her body and take her until the two suns rose . . . several weeks from now. But he’d do that if he only wanted her for a night or a few days. This game they played was for the rest of their lives. Winner take all.
His heart belonged to this dragoness, whether she wanted it or not.
And she damn well better want it.
Chapter 5
“So how’s your mother?”
The entire table froze, all eyes not on Ailean or Rhiannon, but on Bercelak’s mother, Shalin, who’d asked the question.
Rhiannon cleared her throat. “She’s fine. Although I pray for her death every night, mistress.”
“Should we guess you’re not close to your mother then?” Ghleanna asked as she expertly used the human utensils to eat the seared flesh on her plate. Starving, Rhiannon wished she could just pick the meat on her plate up with her fingers, but decorum instructed she follow the lead of those whose den it was.
“She detests the ground I walk on. But it’s a mutual dislike.”
“She fears your power,” Maelona offered as she kindly showed Rhiannon which utensils to use without letting on to the rest of them.
Giving a small nod of thanks, Rhiannon followed her example. “My power is nothing compared to hers. And she knows it.” She cut the meat on her plate, her mouth already watering.
“You’re incorrect,” Shalin said softly. “You have much power. Much more than your mother’s. The Magick’s all around you. I can see it.”
Rhiannon chewed on her food. She found herself enjoying these cooked meats almost as much as the raw stuff she normally ate.
Except . . . she did miss the screaming. Although not the sobbing.
After swallowing, Rhiannon said, “I was just discussing this with your daughters. I’ve had many teachers, mistress. And all of them said I was quite the sad failure.”
Ghleanna swirled her wine-filled goblet while one foot rested up on the chair, the hand holding the goblet braced against it. “I’ve thought about this a bit since we spoke, Princess. And I think they lied to you.”
Rhiannon’s eyes looked up at the female sitting across from her. Ghleanna did not waste time wearing dresses or any other human feminine trappings. She wore black breeches, black shirt, and high black boots. She kept her thick hair short, which Rhiannon had never seen before on a dragon.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re a white dragon. The power you have was born within you. Like the barbarian Kyvwich witches from the north or the Nolwenn witches from the Desert lands. Your power flows through your veins and nothing your mother does can take that away for good.”
Rhiannon swallowed another bit of beef. “Then why are my skills so lacking? Why can I do so little?”
“It took me a bit but I think I finally figured it out. When you trained you were always dragon, weren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“So they would have never seen it because of your scales.”
“Seen what?”
Ghleanna motioned to Rhiannon’s shoulder with a gesture, bare where the dress dipped down. “That brand you wear.”
Glancing down at it, Rhiannon shrugged. “Aye. All my siblings bear this mark. To be honest, I forgot it was there.”
“Well, it’s that mark that keeps you from your true strength, princess. And I’d bet my treasure your mother knew it when she had it placed on you.”
Frowning, Rhiannon looked down at the mark on her shoulder.
