Dragon Actually

He won’t let me go, she thought to herself and that’s when his mouth clamped over her breast again, sucking hard on her nipple.

Her release hit with brutal swiftness, tearing through Rhiannon’s entire body the way the Magick had, only this time no pain. Just pleasure. Wonderful pleasure.

Panting and trying to focus, she realized Bercelak had come inside her and now lay collapsed atop her.

That’s when she had to admit—at least to herself—that it didn’t feel too bad to have him there.

“Rhiannon?” It felt like ages until he could get up enough energy to say that. But when she didn’t answer him, Bercelak became seriously concerned. Scared he may have accidentally hurt her, he pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at her.

“Rhiannon?” he said again, louder.

“Mhmmm?”

She sounded sated.

Bercelak couldn’t help but smile. It felt nice to smile. “Are you all right?”

Slowly, her eyes opened, staring at him in wonder. Then, just as quickly, her eyebrows pulled down into a brutal frown. “This changes nothing, Low Born.”

Bercelak laughed out loud and that felt even better than  smiling. “Sorry, Princess. This changes everything. And we both know it.”

Growling, she tried to pull away from him, but he caught hold of her waist.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let me go.”

“No. I want to talk first.”

“Talk?” She looked absolutely horrified at the idea.

“Aye. Talk. Make sure we are both clear on a few things.” She relaxed back, but watched him warily. “Clear on what things?”

“The next full moon is in four days. At that time I’ll Claim you.”

“Wait—”

“No. I won’t wait, Rhiannon. You’re mine as I am yours. Nothing will change that.”

Angry, she pulled away from him, scrambling across the bed. “This isn’t fair. It was the Magick . . . it changed . . .”

He shook his head. “Try another tack, Princess. I won’t believe the Magick made you, of all dragons, do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“But—”

Frustrated, he barked, “No! No more excuses. No more denials.” He pulled his body up and, on all fours, moved toward her.

Eyes wide, Rhiannon moved back away from him. The bed was big, but it wasn’t that big.

Her back leg slid off the bed, almost tumbling her onto the floor. But Bercelak grasped tight hold of her wrist.

“Wait—”

He ignored her plea, yanking her onto the bed.

As he placed his body over hers, she snarled, “I’ll never love you, Low Born! Never!”

His heart stuttered to a stop. He wanted her love. Needed it, even. This wasn’t about taking a royal as his mate. This was about Rhiannon and only Rhiannon. He’d loved her since he saw her and, he had admitted to himself years ago, he would always love her. No female would ever compare with her. And now that he’d actually been inside her, had actually heard her cries of passion and felt her lust, he wanted no other female in his arms. Only Rhiannon. Always Rhiannon.

But from what he knew of his Rhiannon, no “sensitive” male would ever live in her bed . . . own her bed. So, the side that wished to care for her—that wanted to make her laugh as well as see her smile—he pushed aside. He would bury it until he’d Claimed her. Even if he missed the next full moon, he’d only Claim Rhiannon if she loved him. Nothing was worse than being with someone who didn’t love you and never would. Dragons lived many years and that was too long to live without a true mate to care for you.

So he buried the part of him that cared and brought out the warrior. The merciless battle-dragon who had destroyed more dragon kingdoms then he could remember.

He dug his hand into her hair and snatched her head back. One of her hands reached up and gripped his shoulder, trying to push him off.

“Perhaps we should understand each other, Princess. I will have you. I will make you mine until the end of time. Challenge me if you wish, but you’ll lose in this battle. I promise that you’ll lose.”

Clear blue eyes glared at him but he also saw the heat in them. With her hatred came her lust. Just as he knew it would.

He pulled her head back a little farther and the hand on his shoulder dug into his flesh.

“I think it’s time you understand how things will work between us, Princess. I think it’s time I show you.”

Bercelak banged on his older brother’s door again. Finally, Addolgar pulled the heavy oak door open.

“What?”

“I need your chains, brother.”

Addolgar stared at him for several long seconds. “Should I ask why?” he finally said.

“No.”

“The cuffs only, or the collar as well?”

“All of it.”

With a shrug, Addolgar went back into his room. He heard his brother speaking to his mate. Bercelak shook his head when he heard her snap, “Where do you think you’re going with our chains?”

“It’s for a good cause,” Addolgar said over his shoulder as he handed the chains to his kin. “It’s brought me luck, brother. Perhaps it will work the same for you.”

He fucked me to sleep, she thought as she forced herself awake. The suns showed brightly through the narrow windows and she knew it was late in the morning.

The last thing she remembered at all was him bathing her, against her muttered protests, in fact.

Rhiannon shook her head to clear her exhausted mind, but the sounds of heavy chains froze her. She went to touch her throat, but her hands would only move so far. She turned her head and saw that metal cuffs held her wrists, the chain tightened so her arms didn’t stray too far from the headboard. She couldn’t see or touch the collar around her neck, but she felt it well enough. Heavy metal weighing down on her shoulders. Even her feet were shackled, the chains securely locked to the end board.

“Bastard!”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

“Release me! Now!”

He smiled and she took very little comfort from it. “I think not. I like having you at my disposal. All wet and ready to fuck when I so choose.”

She’d spit at him if he were any closer. Especially when she felt her body respond so immediately. Her nipples peaked and wetness seeped from between her legs. He saw it, too, and his grin grew wider.

She fought the chains again. “I’ll scream for help.”

“I wouldn’t bother. Remember whose family this is. Ailean the Wicked. Somehow he managed to woo my mother who, I’ve been told, tried to kill him more than once before their Claiming. So, I seriously doubt he’ll find this such an extreme form of courtship.”

“I am a princess,” she argued, “you can’t treat me—”

“You are a princess,” he cut in. “A beautiful princess who belongs to me.”

He finally walked over to her and she stared hard at the human body before her. Gods, why did he have to be so beautiful?

“Tell me you’re mine, Rhiannon, and I’ll let you go.”

Angry and lustful all in one turn, Rhiannon turned her face away.

“Tell me, Rhiannon.” His fingers slid up her calf, teasing the skin with just the tips of his fingers. “Tell me”—