Annwyl stood and walked to Fearghus. She stood in front of him. “Fearghus?”

“I can explain everything. . . .”

“Can you, boy?” Fearghus closed his eyes at the sound of his father’s voice. The old dragon had hauled his enormous bulk up and stood behind his son.

Annwyl felt it at that moment. She had kept it at bay so long she forgot how good it felt to wrap it around herself like a warm cloak in the middle of winter. She unsheathed her sword as her rage spread through her limbs.

Fearghus’s eyes snapped open in surprise at the sound.

“Annwyl.” She moved around him, her eyes locked with his.

He turned his body as she walked. He waited for it. Waited for the blow. And he’d take it too. She was sure of that.

“Are you going to let some human do this to you, Fearghus?” His father barked in disgust. Annwyl now stood between the two dragons. Her eyes still locked with Fearghus’s, her blade pointing tip down, the handle gripped by both her hands. She held the weapon so tightly that her tan knuckles now white with the effort.

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“Just kill her, Fearghus. Kill her and be done with it,” his father sighed heavily.

“Tell me, Fearghus.” She raised the sword high, her rage singing through her veins. “Do you understand this?”

She spun on her heel away from Fearghus and, using all the rage she contained, slammed the blade into the old dragon’s claw between his talons where the scales were at their thinnest, nailing it—and him—to the hard ground.

The dragon’s head fell back and the roar he let out most likely rang out hundreds of leagues away.

Annwyl turned to her lover. “Burn in hell, Fearghus.”

She walked away, leaving the dragons to tend their wounded father.

Chapter 14

His siblings stood there silent, stunned by their father’s scream of pain. But Fearghus watched Annwyl. He watched her walk toward the exit. Watched her notice Briec staring at her. She stopped and stared back at his silver-haired brother. When he smiled at her, she backhanded him across the head, knocking the dragon’s human form into Gwenvael.

He glanced at his younger brother. “Go with her.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Gwenvael demanded as he helped Briec to his feet. “She’s insane! I’m not going anywhere!”

Fearghus growled low, making sure his fangs showed. Gwenvael winced back and grudgingly followed.

“Keep her safe,” he called after his brother. He looked at Morfyd who finally snapped out of her surprise and now tended their father.

“How bad is it?”

Morfyd looked at her brother with wide eyes. “She went straight through to the cave floor. I think it’s stone.” She didn’t bother hiding the awe in her voice.

“No. There’s some dirt there.”

“Well, it’s going to have to be pried out. It’s imbedded.”

He sneered at his father. “He’ll live. I’m going after her.”

“What?” His sister stood up in front of her brother. “Fearghus, don’t. She’s angry. Very angry. She impaled your father . . . twice. Give her some time to calm down.”

“I lied to her, Morfyd. She has every right to be angry. Besides, it wasn’t me she hurt.”

“No. You’re not going anywhere until you help me with him.” She went back to Bercelak. “I can’t do this alone.”

Fearghus shook his head. His sister didn’t need his help. But she wanted to give Annwyl at least a few minutes to calm her rage. Perhaps not a bad idea, when he thought about it a moment.

He watched his father struggling to pull his claw from the cave floor, but he couldn’t do it without tearing open the wound. The bastard was effectively stuck until he and Morfyd helped him. Fearghus smiled a little at his father’s suffering and the female who caused it.

I do love that woman.

“Stay away from me, Gwenvael.”

“I don’t want to be here, but my brother gave me no choice.” Gwenvael struggled to keep up with her. His stomach still threatened to remove the rest of the soldiers he’d eaten the previous night and she had very long legs. She didn’t run but rather stalked. And he knew if he got too close he could end up like Briec. Or worse . . . like his father.

He finally understood what his brother saw in this woman. Dragon females were dangerous, but very calculating. And sometimes very cold. For them it was all about the politics. Not for Annwyl, though. She cared nothing for politics. She ran on instinct and emotion. Her instincts kept her alive. Her emotions made her a lethal weapon. How could Fearghus not fall in love with her? If Gwenvael thought about it himself, he might have to admit he’d fallen a little in love with her himself.

It didn’t take long for her to reach the edge of Fearghus’s glen. He followed her out but found himself slamming into the back of her. He thought once she hit open ground she’d run for it, back to her troops. But when he looked up he saw what stopped her.

Two battalions of soldiers waited for her. They wore Lorcan’s colors and they clearly had every intention of taking her back alive for their leader to have his revenge. At least ten men had nets to snag the female.

“I have no weapons,” she muttered under her breath as she took a step back toward Gwenvael.

“Yes you do.” He tossed his sword to her. Annwyl stared at the weapon. And Gwenvael quickly realized the girl had lived in safety with Fearghus too long. Well, no matter. He knew exactly how to get Annwyl the Bloody back. “And don’t forget, Annwyl. My brother lied to you. Made a fool of you. And he’s probably having a good laugh with the old dragon as we speak. Now”—he shoved her toward several advancing men—“go get ’em.” He watched as the girl gave a bellow of rage and took off the head of the first man who came near her. Then she turned and swiped off another. Gwenvael shivered. Her name fit her well.