A Tale of Two Dragon

Aye, the big bastard would always be a handful. That she knew, too. But she didn’t care. Because like his mother had said, Braith would love him despite all the rest of it.

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Addolgar guessed, winking at her and grinning. “I’m amazing. You’re amazing. And we’ll have amazing offspring. Strong and smart like their mum and able to take a good, solid head-butt like their da.”

Braith ran her hands through her hair. “We’re already having offspring?”

“Not right away. First you need to get proper battle training.”

“And why do you think that’s necessary?”

“Because you really enjoyed fighting those Lightnings, and you were really good at it. You can’t waste skill like yours, Braith. Plus, to be honest, you do have a warrior’s name. Braith of the Darkness. That’s a warrior’s name and you can’t waste a good warrior’s name.”

“I guess I didn’t understand the rules.”

“But now you know.”

Braith pushed Addolgar’s arms aside so that she could turn around and get back on his lap, her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

“I do love you, Addolgar,” she told him, loving how the words made his grin grow even wider. “More and more each day. It wasn’t just my kin I was missing in my life, but you. One without the other would break my heart, and I thought my heart was dead a long time ago.”

“Not dead, Braith.” Addolgar pushed her hair off her shoulders. “Just hibernating. Like a bear.”

She laughed and kissed Addolgar, the warmth of his mouth making her feel safe and loved. His hands clutched the back of her shirt as he deepened their kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, reminding her why she enjoyed being human around Addolgar.

When the kiss ended, they were panting, Addolgar resting his forehead against hers.

“It will not be easy to leave you for the cold of the Northlands, luv.”

“But think of it this way . . . while you’re away, you won’t have to hear my aunts call you The Mountain.”

Addolgar rolled his eyes. “Is there any way we can get them to stop doing that?”

“Of course not.”

He rested his head on her shoulder. “I thought that’s what you’d say. . . .”

“No point in getting upset,” Braith said, running her hands through his hair. “Especially since I brought something just for you in my travel bag.”

Addolgar raised his head. “For me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Glancing over, Addolgar saw the bag lying on the floor. He grabbed it and, with Braith still on his lap, he dug his hand inside.

His grin went from cheerful to leering as he pulled out her aunt’s chains, cuffs, and collar.

Addolgar held them up. “And what are we going to do with all this, Braith of the Darkness?”

Pressing her hand against his chest, Braith shoved her mate flat against the bed, pinning him there, and snatched the chains from him. She grinned down into his suddenly panic-stricken face. “Guess.”

Epilogue

During the Reign of Queen Rhiannon the White

Addolgar landed on the ground and immediately shifted to human. While he put clothes on, he tried not to listen to the complaining going on a few feet away from him.

He was a general in Her Majesty’s army. A Cadwaladr. And an extremely proud father of seven Daughters of the House of Penarddun. Yet, Addolgar was being forced to listen to so much gods-damn complaining!

His eyes narrowed on the blue hair shining in the sunlight while the complaining went on and on.

For Addolgar was just one simple dragon. So it was unfair for anyone to think he could tolerate this. Or that he should tolerate this. He deserved much better for all he’d sacrificed over the years.

So, picking up his hammer, Addolgar walked up behind all that to-the-ground-length blue hair and raised his weapon. With his left eye beginning to twitch, he brought the hammer down.

But before it crashed into the head, silencing all that complaining, a strong hand caught his arm—and held it. Only one being he knew of, besides his brothers and Ghleanna, could do that.

He looked down into the smiling human face of his mate. Braith of the Darkness, Daughter of the House of Penarddun, and mother of thirteen offspring—seven perfect daughters, and six idiot sons—shook her head at him.

“I. Can’t. Stand. It. Anymore,” he told her, glaring at all that blue hair that did not belong to anyone from the House of Penarddun, but adorned the big, fat head of one of Addolgar’s many nephews.

Briefly chewing her lip so she didn’t laugh out loud, Braith called out, “How are you, dearest Éibhear?”

Sighing—dramatically—something his ridiculous princely nephew, the son of his brother Bercelak, had managed to make into a bloody art form in his short, less-than-a-century-old life—the idiot boy didn’t even turn around before he started complaining more!

“I’ve had better days, Auntie Braith.”

“I’m sure you have.” She tugged on Addolgar’s arm, raised her eyebrows. Lower it, she mouthed at him.

I don’t want to.

Do it anyway.

With much regret—he’d never have a chance like that again—Addolgar lowered his weapon just as the idiot boy faced them.

“I thought you were staying in Dark Plains for a little longer,” Braith prompted Éibhear. She looked over her shoulder at the boy, and the way her cotton shirt was cut, Addolgar could see part of the Claiming brand that he’d placed on her upper chest all those years ago. Addolgar wore Braith’s Claiming mark with pride on his entire right leg, from ass to foot.