Dragon Actually (Dragon Kin #1)(55)

But as he closed in on the ridge his woman now stood on, he could see he wouldn’t be in time. No matter how fast he flew. No matter what he did. He would lose her.

Brastias couldn’t clear the enemy troops and make it up the ridge before the foul beast sent a blast that completely covered his leader in a white-hot flame. And no ordinary flame, like the one he saw her dragon-lover spew. But something different. And seemingly a waste of Magick, considering she was just a girl.

But when the flame and smoke cleared, there she still stood. Her eyes shut tight, her face turned away. Everything as it should be. Even her chainmail and surcoat.

Brastias stopped. That wasn’t possible. There should be nothing of her left. Not even ash.

He saw the dragon rear back in confusion as Annwyl slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She most likely expected to see those of her ancestors welcoming her to the next world. Instead her eyes focused on a startled and a little bit disturbed Brastias.

She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “She’s bloody mad,” he whispered as she swung around and looked at the dragon.

“Did you miss?” she asked sweetly.

The dragon looked as if he were about to answer, but he never got the chance. Fearghus swooped down and snatched him up. The beautiful Morfyd right behind him.

Brastias threw himself back into the fray, but not before he heard Annwyl address Lorcan. “I guess it’s just us then. Eh, brother?”

Lorcan smiled. Things had turned in his favor. He knew he couldn’t battle Hefaidd-Hen on his own. He’d killed dragons before. But Hefaidd-Hen wasn’t just a dragon. He was something completely different. Unnatural. Unholy. Evil. But with Hefaidd-Hen off battling his own kind, Lorcan could finally do what he’d wanted to do since the day the little bitch became part of his life.

He would kill his only sister.

Lorcan brought his blade up and charged.

Annwyl dodged the blade, slicing her brother’s back as he passed her. But the blade barely touched him. He swung around to face her again.

“You’ve become fast, little sister.” He openly leered. “Did the dragon teach you that before he pushed you to your knees?”

The siblings shadowed each other. Moving slowly, purposely. Waiting for the other to make the next move.

Annwyl knew exactly what her brother was doing. He was baiting her. And it would have worked . . . a few weeks ago

“He taught me many things, brother. Although I think it is you that has become the bitch of a dragon. Did Hefaidd-Hen make you moan as he took you?”

Lorcan began to growl, but quickly it became a fullblown roar. He attacked. A straight thrust to her belly. Annwyl parried with one blade and slashed his midsection with the other. She danced back away from him.

Her brother looked down at the blood seeping from under his garments. Annwyl knew the damage was slight. But Lorcan’s shock went to the fact that few ever came that close to striking him before. And that’s when she knew she had him.

His rage exploded out, surrounding her. She knew she should be scared. Or angry. She felt neither. His anger calmed her. Soothed her. She knew the control belonged to her, while he drowned in his own rage.

She stayed on the defensive, letting him come to her. He attacked again, this time swinging at her neck. She blocked the blade and slammed her body into him. Lorcan stumbled back. He righted himself quick enough, though, and brutally backhanded Annwyl. Her body flew several feet before landing. Yet her dragon had hit her like that before while training, so she barely felt Lorcan’s fist. She scrambled to her feet before he ever reached her.

After fighting Fearghus, Lorcan’s moves seemed slow and blocky. Not the fluid movements of her dragon. Suddenly she couldn’t understand what she’d so greatly feared all these years. Hell, she’d faced Bercelak the Great and almost destroyed him. Was her brother really that much of a challenge?

She found herself getting calmer. Seeing his moves long before he ever made them. She could also see his rage burning through his body. He wanted her dead so badly his attacks became sloppier. Soon blood covered him. And none of it belonged to her.

Fearghus took Hefaidd-Hen up toward the suns, his talons digging into the soft white underbelly. He no longer had the protective scales of their breed.

What did this dragon do to himself?

Hefaidd-Hen spat out a spell and an almost unbearable pain racked Fearghus’s body. A pain that came from within. Now he saw that the beast gave parts of himself for the Magick that coursed through his veins. The Magick that Hefaidd-Hen now used on him. But Fearghus wouldn’t let the bastard go. He’d only go after Annwyl again. He couldn’t risk that. So he kept his claws dug deep into Hefaidd-Hen’s flesh and held on.

Another wave of pain tore through Fearghus’s body. He roared. But his roar could never match Hefaidd-Hen’s brutal scream. He opened his eyes to see that Morfyd had attached herself to Hefaidd-Hen’s back. Her claws dug in deep to the white flesh as she spoke a spell that set the beast on fire. And without scales, he had no protection from the unholy flames Morfyd unleashed.

“Now, Fearghus! Now!”

Fearghus dug his claws deeper into Hefaidd-Hen’s lower body and opened him up from bowel to throat.

Hefaidd-Hen screamed. A scream of surprise and utter pain. Fearghus and Morfyd released his body. The unnatural beast plummeted to the ground, vainly attempting to keep his entrails in and put out the fire that covered him. Morfyd spewed another spell at the retreating form and Hefaidd-Hen burst into pieces.