Aidan snorted and they both started laughing, Brannie dropping onto him.

“You’re ridiculous,” she complained against his neck.

“Why is everything always my fault?”

“Because it is.”

She began to nibble at the skin beneath his ear.

“Branwen—”

“Stop talking.”

“Make me.”

She kissed him, and it did shut him up.

Aidan slipped his fingers into Branwen’s hair and pulled her closer, wanting to explore every crevice of her mouth. Wanting to know what every part of her felt like.

Her hands pressed against his chest, eased down his skin and under the water. She gripped his cock, held it tight. She really didn’t have to squeeze, though. Just her touch had him hard. Knowing she wanted him had him hard.

Brannie settled her knees on either side of his thighs and lowered her body. She held onto his cock until it entered her pussy. She moved her hands to his shoulders and dropped down hard. He gasped into her mouth, fingers gripping her wet hips again, holding her tight against him.

Her muscles squeezed him, her arms now around his neck, her lips locked against his.

They kissed and Brannie squeezed until Aidan knew he couldn’t take any more. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled out of their kiss enough so that he could ask, “Am I hurting your back?”

She shook her head and leaned in for another kiss.

“Good,” he whispered against her lips before he slipped his tongue into her mouth and drove into her hard from below.

Brannie released the grip she had on his neck and caught the rim of the tub with both hands, holding on, letting Aidan fuck her.

She didn’t speak but she groaned and occasionally gave the most adorable squeak when he thrust up, her head resting on his shoulder.

After a few minutes, he pressed his hand against the side of her neck and pushed her back until she released her hold on the tub. He bent her back a bit more, then leaned forward and licked the space between her breasts before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Brannie growled and her fingers gripped his hair, pressing him to her breast. He continued to suck and tease even while he hammered into her.

With one hand still twisted in his hair, Brannie grabbed his shoulder with the other and dug her fingers into the skin. She had no real nails, always keeping them short for battle, but her grasp was brutal. Painful. Ruthless.

He loved it.

Especially when she came. Her entire body clenched and Aidan’s eyes crossed from the pain and pleasure. The way she clamped down on him, biting her lip to stop from crying out.

He watched her. Amazed at how beautiful she looked coming like that. So beautiful, he came right behind her, unable to control himself.

And it was all because of her. All because of Branwen the Awful.

* * *

When Branwen could see and hear again, when she was no longer lost in fucking Aidan the Divine, she collapsed against him, her head landing on his shoulder.

They held on to each other, both breathing hard, waiting for the tremors racking their bodies to stop.

And, when they did, she said, “Shut up.”

“Again, Branwen,” he laughed, “I didn’t say anything!”

* * *

Bram the Merciful closed his eyes and dropped back into the chair.

“Are you sure?” he asked the two sitting across from him.

Var raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m sure,” he said with an arrogance Bram usually only heard from Var’s mother. “Do you think I’d bother telling you Brigida was rooting through our library of books if I wasn’t sure?”

“What could she be looking for?”

“An ancient book of dragon spells,” Frederick explained again.

“I don’t mean what did she take? What was she looking for within the book?”

“That we don’t know,” Frederick admitted. “I couldn’t read it—”

“—and I hadn’t gotten to it yet to fully know what’s inside,” Var finished.

“And now you know why I told you, Unnvar, to deal with the dragon books first.”

“They’re boring.”

“Not everything can be entertaining, and now we don’t know what Brigida the Most Foul is up to.”

“That’s hardly my fault.”

“You didn’t help.”

“So what do we do now?” Frederick asked, always one to stop a possible dispute with reason.

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Var said simply. Too simply.

It was the strangest thing. The boy had such intense arrogance. Not about his beauty—and, like his father, he was beautiful—nor about his intelligence. He just accepted them as part of who he was. But when it came to his certainty that he was making the best decisions for all involved . . . that’s where Var’s arrogance outshone his mother’s and father’s. He didn’t ask questions about his decisions, he simply announced that he’d made one and everyone else had best keep up.

But the boy was only eighteen. He didn’t seem to grasp that he had much more to learn.

Bram shot an exasperated glance at Frederick, who also looked worried about Var’s pronouncement.

“And what, exactly, does that mean?”

Now focused on whatever papers he had in front of him, Var didn’t even bother to look up at Bram when he replied, “That I’ve taken care of it.”

“I need specifics.”

After writing something down—and still not looking up—Var motioned to the doorway with his quill.

Before Bram could blink, she suddenly swept into the doorway naked. Arlais ran in after, pushing past all those Mì-runach who had accompanied her, and placed a robe around her grandmother’s shoulders.

“Think of the servants!” Arlais snapped at her before flouncing out.

“I do know how hard it is for them to see so much perfection,” Rhiannon agreed until she realized her granddaughter was gone. “Stay outside,” she ordered her Mì-runach guards.

“But, my lady—” one began.

Rhiannon kicked the door shut with her foot. “I adore my Mì-runach,” she admitted, “but now that Bercelak is gone, they don’t give me a moment without seeing their needy, eager faces.”

She pushed her white hair off her cheeks and the strain he saw on her face told Bram the weight she now carried on her shoulders. A weight she usually managed with no effort, no strain. But that was because Bercelak was always at her side, lightening everything around her by being so impossibly angry and barely controllable.

With that support gone, Rhiannon didn’t bother to hide her true self. A side Bram was sure her grandson had never seen.

“So,” Rhiannon asked flatly, “why am I here?”

Bram glared at Var. “You sent for your grandmother before speaking to me first?”

Var sighed and wrote something on the parchment in front of him. “I hear tone, Uncle.”

“I’m waiting,” Rhiannon pushed.

Var could hear Bram’s tone but he couldn’t hear his grandmother’s? Foolish boy!

“Nothing, my queen,” Bram tried. “You have much bigger concerns than—”

“Brigida took one of the books out of our library,” Var cut in, still scribbling away. “A book on dragon magicks. I hadn’t had a chance to go through that book myself so we have no idea what she wanted with it, but my concern is that she only went for it after Arlais turned down her offer to be her apprentice. I strongly suggest we move on her quickly. I understand she’s family, so my recommendation is we just put her somewhere safe until we figure out exactly what she’s up to. I’m assuming you can handle that, Grandmother, since the twins and Rhi are currently at the front?”

With a flourish, he signed the bottom of the paper he was working on and finally—grudgingly—looked away from his work and up at his grandmother. That’s when Var blinked and leaned back a bit in his chair.

It was, for Var, a reaction that suggested immense shock.

“Is there an issue, Grandmother?” he asked.

“You want us to magickally bind and bury an elder of the Cadwaladr Clan?” Rhiannon asked, her voice calm.