“My mother disowned me long ago. So…I…left. Came north.”
Briec sat back on his haunches. “Disowned you? But Nolwenn witches can only have one child. Usually a girl, I believe.”
“I know!” she snapped. “Do you not think I know my own people?”
“But what, little witch, could you have done to get your mother to disown the only child she would ever have?”
“I fell in love.”
Ah. Now he understood. Nolwenn witches never mated for life. Only to breed and to satisfy inherent needs or for certain Magickal rights. They never took another as their mate. Instead their lives belonged to their demanding desert gods and the Magick.
“Your husband?”
“No. Another. And before you ask, he died. Long ago.”
“Your mother wouldn’t take you back?”
“I never asked.”
“You are fascinating.” She truly was. A Nolwenn witch? Here? He must introduce her to his sister, a white dragonwitch. Only their mother, the Dragon Queen, held more power than his sister.
Briec had another thought. “How old are you?”
She sighed. “Thirty-two winters. Soon thirty-three. Why?”
“You’re a babe.” Like dragons, Nolwenns weren’t immortal, but they could live up to six or seven hundred years.
“Perhaps as dragons go, but witch or no, I’m still a human.”
“I know. Tragic really.”
“And why is that tragic?”
“Because…” He gave a little sniff of disdain. “Humans are so weak, annoying, whiny, and stupid.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “But that’s why I find you so fascinating. You’re none of those things. Except annoying.”
She huffed. Several times, in fact, before she turned and stomped off. She kept doing that, too. Stomping off.
“Were we done talking?”
“Yes.”
He followed after her. “But I have more questions.”
“You can stick your questions up your ass.”
He slammed his tail in front of her. “I don’t think I heard you, little witch.”
“You heard me just fine and stop threatening me with that thing!” She kicked his tail.
By the gods, she was absolutely adorable!
“I wasn’t threatening you. I was halting your progress. Trust me…you’ll know if I’m threatening you. Now”—he settled back down—“where were we? Ah, yes. There’s something you need to explain to me.”
Sighing in resignation, she asked, “What?”
“Nolwenn witches are powerful from birth.”
“Some. If all the proper spells are done before, during, and after the birth,” she answered as she began to suddenly walk around him picking wildflowers. Seemed odd. She didn’t exactly appear to be the flower-picking type.
“Yet although Magick surrounds you, it’s not truly…harnessed.”
“True enough.” She walked behind him, still picking flowers. “I have not practiced or studied since I left Alsandair.”
“I see. Well, perhaps I could—” He’d turned around to speak to her directly, but she was no longer behind him.
Briec glanced around, quickly realizing it wasn’t that she was no longer behind him. She was no longer there.
The little bitch was gone!
Talaith crouched on the highest branch that could hold her weight. It hadn’t been easy getting above him and out of his eye range so quickly…the beast was huge. She glared down at the big silver head of that arrogant idiot.
Irritating? I’m irritating? Did he have absolutely no concept of what a bastard he was? Clearly not, otherwise he would have let her go.
But he was “determined” to have her. No. No. No. That would not be happening. She’d done some strange and stupid things, but having a dragon between her legs would not be one of them.
Concentrating, Talaith slowed her breathing and heart rate. Dragons had amazing hearing, her trainers said, so she used all her skills to make sure he wouldn’t hear her. She faded into the shadow of the branches and leaves, so his dragon eyes wouldn’t spot her.
The only thing she couldn’t control was his keen sense of…
The dragon sniffed the air, then looked right at her. “There you are, my little witch.”
Dammit.
Before she could even think about climbing back down, he grabbed hold of the tree with his two front claws and shook it. Screaming, Talaith went flying. But that damn tail of his caught her seconds before she hit the ground.
“Now that was amazing, little witch. Tell me, where did you learn to move so fast and to disappear so well? In your little village after baking the morning bread?”
He laughed at his own joke, walking again toward town with her still wrapped up in his tail.
“Yes, I was right about you. You are fascinating. You and I will find such pleasure together, my little witch.”
Could I hate him more? She thought about it for a moment. No, I could not hate him any more than I already do.
Chapter 6
The chatter in the pub they decided to go to for food was interesting, to say the least. Lots of talk about angry gods and horrible storms. Plus, they feared the coming of the Black Moon.
Of course that wasn’t the correct name of the powerful moon, but she’d given up hope that the Northerners had any real knowledge of other cultures. Besides, she had bigger issues at the moment.
The only thing she currently worried about was getting away from one annoyingly determined dragon. He leaned back in the booth they’d luckily found in a quiet corner. She’d feared they’d have to sit out at one of the long tables on a bench. As it was, the dragon was hard to miss. Even with the hood of his black cape covering that silver mane of hair and the chainmail shirt and leggings he wore—apparently one in that doomed caravan had been close to his size—he received looks wherever he went. How could he not? He towered over everyone. Add in that he practically had to drag her along behind him, and the two of them stood out quite loudly to the general populace.
What she didn’t understand, what she would never understand, is why she hadn’t screamed yet. Why hadn’t she yelled for help? They’d passed a magistrate on their way to the pub. One of the few towns that actually had one, and although he watched them with intense interest, she never screamed or tried to pull away. Instead, she only stared back.
Resting her chin in her hand, Talaith stared into her beer. She knew exactly why she didn’t yell for help. He might get hurt. Even killed. She didn’t want that. As much as she detested him—oh, and she did detest him—she still didn’t want to be responsible for his death. She merely wanted him to let her go. But if the town turned on him before he had a chance to shift or if he shifted and took the town with him…she’d never forgive herself either way.
She could almost hear her mother whispering in her ear, “Talaith, Daughter of Haldane—you are an idiot.”
And the dragon wondered why she didn’t run back to her mother for solace. She, of all people, knew that welcome home would be less than pleasant.
“You’re