“Ow! What was that for?”

“Accident,” she snarled.

“Nice aim,” Briec grumbled. “For a quiet little wife.”

She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Your point?”

He growled, and she grinned. Which did nothing but piss the dragon off. But before he could do or say anything else, Éibhear looked up from his empty bowl. “So!”

Startled by his near shout, they all stared at him. “Doesn’t seem like the rain will let up. What would everyone like to do today since we’re stuck inside?”

Talaith pointed at the book on the table next to her bowl. “I’ve got this.”

“You read?” For some unknown reason, Éibhear seemed ridiculously happy about this.

“Aye.”

“She’s a well-read peasant,” Briec drawled out.

“I know where there are more books.” Éibhear jumped up and was out of the cavern in seconds.

“But I already have a book,” she said to no one in particular.

“I guess he feels you need more.”

Her eyes locked on Briec. “What I need is to be let go.”

“Why would I do that? Have you somehow fulfilled your blood debt to me without my knowledge?”

“I never asked for you to save me.”

“Most likely because of that rope choking the life from you.”

“Oh!” She stood. “I hate you. Perhaps you should go fly in the rain and lightning will strike you dead!”

Grabbing her book and ignoring her growling stomach, she turned and stormed from the cavern.

* * *

Gwenvael leaned back in his chair, his hand under his shirt so he could scratch his chest. The other hand rubbed his forehead where the fruit had made a rather unpleasant temporary dent. “So what is your obsession over this human female, brother?”

“She’s…” Briec struggled for words.

“Strange?”

Briec frowned. “Compared to what?”

His brother had a point. No one in the dragon world ever referred to the Gwalchmai fab Gwyar kin as normal.

“She doesn’t trust me,” Briec added.

“That one trusts no one.”

“Fearghus’ mate trusts him.”

So that’s what this is about. He’d wondered about Briec’s sudden interest in a human female. Now he knew. He wanted what Fearghus had. But what Fearghus had with Annwyl was special. Very, very special. “That’s different, Briec. Annwyl is…well…Annwyl. And would you start using her name.”

“Why? She’s of no consequence to me.”

More like Briec still hadn’t forgiven her for backhanding him during one of her rages. As far as Briec was concerned—the most powerful human queen known to this world in the last ten thousand years didn’t exist for him.

“But you still want what Fearghus has.”

Briec looked up from the bowl of fruit in front of him, horror written all over his face. “Good gods! I’d rather remove my eyes than spend a minute in that woman’s bed.”

Gods, his family could be literal.

“I don’t mean you want Annwyl, idiot. I mean you want the kind of relationship Fearghus has with Annwyl.”

Briec shrugged and went back to his fruit. He chose two. “He does seem…”

“Happy?”

“As much as Fearghus can be.” True. No one referred to Fearghus the Destroyer as the life of anyone’s party. Their grandfather, Ailean, still held that title. Even Gwenvael hadn’t quite managed to pass that old bastard’s excesses. Of course all that was before Ailean met their grandmother—Shalin, Tamer of Ailean. A title well earned and held until her final days.

“Look, Briec, if you want anything close to what Fearghus has, you’ll have to change some…things.”

“But she hasn’t even seen my den yet.” Briec grabbed a hunk of cheese and bread. “She might like it.”

Gwenvael struggled not to slap his older brother in the back of the head. Although he and Briec were close—no matter how much they fought—he still found him frustrating. Mostly because his arrogance could fill up an entire city.

“I meant you’ll need to change some things about you.”

“Me? Change? For her?” Now Briec leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Why would I change for a human? Any human?”

“If you want to be between her legs without her crying and praying for death, you better change.”

“What am I doing wrong?”

“Everything.”

“Specifics, brother.”

“Telling her she belongs to you when you haven’t even bed her yet is always a bad idea.”

“Why? She does belong to me by dragon law.”

Silently, Gwenvael sighed. This would take longer than he thought. Briec could be so stubborn. Almost as bad as their father.

“Dragon law only works, brother, if you want her as your slave. If that’s what you want, then throw our laws in her face at every opportunity. But if you ever hope to have her bed you willingly the way Annwyl does Fearghus—and from what I’ve been able to figure out, she drains his c**k dry—then I suggest you take another tack.”

“Are you saying I have to seduce her?”

Gwenvael stared at his older brother. “What did you think? She’d be so grateful for your rescue; she’d drop to her knees to service you?”