She slowed down to stop and glance at the front of camp. There it stood. Her brother’s head on a spike. She smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

“Uh . . . Annwyl?” She looked around to see Danelin standing before her. “You’re scaring the men.”

Annwyl looked at her troops. They’d stopped eating to watch her stare at the remains of her brother. And they did appear a little frightened.

“Sorry.” He made to walk past her, but she stopped him. “Nice work today, Danelin.”

He smiled proudly, nodded, and moved on.

As she neared her tent, Annwyl realized that no troops guarded it. That could only mean one thing.

As she stepped through the flaps, she saw him lounging decadently in a high-backed chair. A fur spread from the bed wrapped around his long, muscular body. His long black hair, recently washed, partially covering his face and chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She became wet at the mere sight of him.

“Lord Dragon.”

“Queen Annwyl.”

This was the first she’d seen of him once the battle turned. He’d gone off to help his family finish off the enemy dragons, she to destroy as many of Lorcan’s men as her troops could get their hands on. But war and sex had now become one for her. Probably forever. She blazed through men, knowing that the sooner she completed her task, the quicker she could return to Fearghus.

“A bath awaits you.” She glanced over at the huge tub. Since she still had her brother’s blood in her hair, a bath might be a good idea.

She moved to the middle of her tent and quickly removed the sheathed swords hanging from her back.

“Slowly.”

She looked up at Fearghus. He watched her closely with those beautiful black eyes of his. The walls of her womb clenched, and it took all her strength not to launch herself at him. Instead, she slowly removed her surcoat. Pulled off her boots and her chainmail. Unbound her br**sts and slipped off the material that covered her sex. When done, she stood there. His eyes roved languidly over her. Taking in not only her body but every wound she now wore on it after the day’s battle.

He motioned to the tub with a flick of his eyes. She slipped into it and shivered.

“Cold?”

“A little.”

Throwing off the fur covering, he slowly stood and walked toward her. She studied his body as he came to rest beside the tub. Underneath all those long, hard muscles lay the heart and soul of a dragon. Her dragon. She licked her lips, her only thought, sucking his sweet c**k once again into her willing mouth.

Fearghus crouched down next to her. He placed his hand in the tub between her thighs. She’d hoped he would touch her but he didn’t. His hand only rested there until she noticed that the water warmed up, nice and hot. This dragon Magick really did have its uses.

“Relax,” he coaxed her gently. And she did just that, leaning back into the tub. Letting her head rest on the rim.

Fearghus poured water over her hair and soaped up her scalp. He washed the blood and sweat of the day from her hair and eventually her body.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Relaxed?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

Then Annwyl screamed as Fearghus shoved her head under water. He held her down for several long seconds as she fought to get that piece of steel he called an arm off her head. Eventually he released her and she came coughing and sputtering back to air.

“What in all that’s holy—”

He took hold of her shoulders and easily lifted her from the tub. “Listen to me clearly, woman. Never face my family again without me! Ever!You are never and I mean never to risk your life like that again! Are we clear?”

Annwyl pulled away from him and took several stumbling steps back. “No! We are not clear!” She turned on him. “I did what I had to. And I’d do it again! And I’m not afraid of your family!”

“Annwyl,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” She fought to get the strands of wet brown hair out of her eyes. “Do you have any idea what I went through today? In just one day I stood in the dragon’s flame . . . twice!”

“But I—”

“Quiet!” He stood there, startled into silence. “I also had to face that cold bitch you call a mother! I took my own brother’s head! And I was forced to break your brother’s hand because he wouldn’t stop touching me!”

Fearghus broke out in a grin and she stopped her tirade. “What?”

“You broke his hand?” He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, it was more like a finger. But the way he carried on, you’d think I’d broken his entire arm.”

Fearghus laughed. Hard. And, eventually, Annwyl smiled.

What the hell was he going to do? He loved this woman. Loved everything about her. Wanted her as his mate. But she had a kingdom to run. Allies to forge. Enemies to crush. He already saw the fear in the men’s eyes. They’d witnessed her “dance” with the dragon’s flame. A dance she’d survived. And they all knew she’d taken him as her lover. His presence would do nothing but put her safety at risk.

“What are you thinking, dragon?”

He shook his head and moved to her. “Nothing,” he whispered as he slipped an arm around her waist.

“Still lying, I see.” She pulled away from him.

He sighed. “What, Annwyl?”