Bercelak rolled his eyes. “I think, Mother, that’s a tad extreme.”

Sipping her wine, Rhiannon looked around the hall she stood in. Bercelak didn’t take her to some mountain fortress to meet his kin. Ailean kept his family in a castle. A gorgeous castle nestled in a valley between the Taaffe Mountains of Kerezik. But this seemed a strange way for any dragon to live. The only way to enter the building was to shift to human. No one in dragon form could get through the doors.

Rhiannon had heard many tales about Bercelak’s father, Ailean the Wicked. In fact, details about his many, many, many loves and conquests filled volume after volume of books her own father would never let her read. She’d always heard he preferred to live among the humans, but she never realized to what extent until now.

He even had human servants who seemed to have no fear of the dragons they served.

Strange.

“Well, well, well,” a great voice boomed behind her. “My son’s female.” Before Rhiannon had a chance to argue that particular point, a large hand slapped her on the back as way of greeting. She stumbled forward, thankfully right into Bercelak’s arms; otherwise she would have ended up face down on the marble floor.

Bercelak helped steady her. “Are you all right?”

“Aye.”

“Fragile little thing, isn’t she?”

Growling, Rhiannon turned around to face the one behind her, but she froze on the spot and stared.

By the dark gods of fire, he’s gorgeous!

This had to be Ailean. Built much like Bercelak and all Bercelak’s brothers, the dragon had blue hair streaked with the white of age that reached down his back and swept across the floor. His sharp silver eyes looked back at her with curiosity as sinfully full lips tilted into a smirk that made her knees weak. All this explained why his offspring were so beautiful—their father was that and so much more.

No wonder her mother had taken a tumble in this dragon’s bed. He had to be at least in his fifth or six hundredth winter and yet he was strong, powerful, and deadly attractive still.

When she didn’t say anything, simply stared at him, Bercelak nudged her shoulder.

“Say something,” he near snarled between his teeth.

So she did. To his father. “You are absolutely gorgeous.”

Ailean grinned and looked at his son. “Well, at least we know she has damn good taste.”

“Excuse us.”

Then Bercelak was dragging her from the room, but she continued to stare at Ailean until a door slamming shut in front of her cut off her view.

This wasn’t the first time a female he was intimate with stared at his father with such keen interest. Before he’d never cared. But this was Rhiannon . . . his Rhiannon. And jealousy was fairly choking him to death at the moment.

He turned her to look at him, both hands gripping her upper arms. “Could you have been more obvious?”

She blinked in confusion. “Obvious about what?”

“Your blatant admiration of my father.”

“Well even you have to admit he’s bloody gorgeous!”

He didn’t have to admit a damn thing.

She winced. “Oooh. Well that came out terribly wrong. What I mean is . . . I suddenly understand my mother a little better.” She grabbed onto the arms holding her. “If he looks like that as human, what by the dark gods does his dragon-form look like? It must be magnificent!”

He couldn’t take anymore. Hearing her talk about his father like that filled him with a territorial need he’d never had with any female before.

The grip he had on her arms tightened as he pushed her against the far wall. She only had time to let out a gasp before his mouth covered hers. She struggled, her arms trying to yank away from his hands, but he refused to let her go. Instead he tilted his head to the side, getting a better angle, his tongue thrusting between her lips and into her warm mouth.

He felt her move her leg and not wanting her to shove her knee in his groin, Bercelak pushed his hips forward, trapping her lower body with his own.

She gasped again and his rational mind demanded he release her. But her hips tipped forward the tiniest bit, pushing herself against his rapidly growing erection. He stilled, afraid he might be misreading her, but then her tongue gently rubbed against his.

That was all he needed. He released her arms so he could dig his hands into her hair, holding her head still for his kiss. Her arms, now free, wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Her response, nearly explosive in its carnality, had his legs shaking from lust. His control broken, Bercelak thrust his hips against hers. She groaned into his mouth and his hips thrust again, determined to give them both release.

But a banging on the door stopped him.

“Oi! Brother!” He could hear his brothers laughing hysterically from the other side of the door. “Father begs your attendance at dinner, O mighty battle-dragon, defender of the queen’s throne!”

“And defender of the queen’s daughter!” one of his sister’s yelled as well.

He went to pull away, but Rhiannon clung to his neck with a grip bordering on painful.

“No. Don’t stop,” she panted.

Gods, he’d gotten the spoiled little brat to beg. Well that gave him a nice bit of hope he didn’t have the previous eve.

“Sorry, Princess,” he gasped out. He wondered if she had any idea that no female, dragon or human, had ever made him this desperate before. “My family awaits. And unless you’d like an audience for this, I suggest we go.”