How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(57)

Her dog dragged his long body out from under the table and headed out. But he stopped long enough to snap at Éibhear, his fangs near the dragon’s face.

“I hate that dog,” he muttered once Macsen was out the door. “I really hate that dog.”

“He’s loyal and I love him. There’ll always be room in my bunk for him.”

Éibhear shuddered. “I had no idea you wanted to live your life alone.”

Izzy chuckled, propped her elbow on her knee and her chin on her raised fist. “So did I make you feel uncomfortable with my answer to your question?”

“No. Should I feel uncomfortable?”

“I don’t think so. But haven’t I always made you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, you haven’t.”

“You are such a liar. And a bad one.”

“Over the years I’ve become a very good liar.”

“As good as Gwenvael?”

“No one’s as good as Gwenvael. Except maybe Dagmar.”

Izzy sat up straight and lowered her arm. “Well, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making you feel uncomfortable . . . again. It’s just something I do, it seems. Although it only seems to come out with you.”

“You didn’t and have never made me feel uncomfortable.”

“Good.” She turned and uncrossed her legs, hanging them over the table’s edge. “I’m off to bed. We’ll need to get an early start.” She slid off the table. “If we don’t get there before midday, Bram will start pacing. Ghleanna hates when he paces.”

She glanced back at him, smiled. “Night.”

When he didn’t say anything, Izzy walked toward the stairs that would take her to the second floor and the room she used whenever she came to visit with Brannie. She didn’t worry about Macsen. He’d find something to kill, eat, and cover himself with blood; run through a nearby stream to get some of the blood off; and finally return to her a few hours before dawn so that he could snuggle up to the back of her knees and snore until it was time to head out again.

Honestly, that dog was the most reliable thing in her life besides Brannie, her squire, and her horse.

Izzy reached the stairs, but before she had her foot on the first step, Éibhear said from behind her, “I lied.”

“About what?” she asked around a yawn.

“You did make me uncomfortable.”

She snorted a little. “I know.”

“Because I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”

Izzy’s hand landed on the banister, her fingers gripping the worn wood. “Oh?”

“The problem is, I grew tired of feeling uncomfortable a long time ago.”

Slowly, Izzy faced the dragon. He was standing now, watching her from under all that damn blue hair. Gods! That hair! It would be the death of her. And unlike some humans, the dragons never seemed to lose their hair. It might grey, like her grandfather Bercelak’s, but his was still long and thick and shiny and mostly black.

Bastards. Every last one of those damn dragons . . . bastards.

Well . . . was she just going to stand there and stare at him? What was he supposed to make of all that staring? Especially when she kept frowning at him like that. Or maybe it was a glare. Hard to tell really.

“Are you saying you want to kiss me now?” she asked, and he had no idea what to make of that tone.

So Éibhear shrugged. “Figured why not?”

Her head tilted to the side. “Figured why not?”

“Yeah.”

And that’s when a book flew at him, slamming into his forehead. The power of it had him stumbling back against the table and he placed his hand where the book had met flesh and bone. He glanced down at the book and asked, “You threw The Ancient Philosophies of Seòras at me? Do you have any idea how old this book is? And why the hell are you throwing books at me anyway? What did I do?”

“You exist! I think you exist just to torment me.”

“You started this, Iseabail.”

“I started nothing. I asked you a simple question and you went all Éibhear the Terrified on me. As usual.” She stalked toward him. “And that’s when I decided, ‘Fine. I’m done with this.’ And in typical Éibhear fashion, that’s when you decide, ‘Eh. I might as well kiss her. Couldn’t ’urt.”

“First off, that’s not how I sound.” Gods! She made him sound like a bloody halfwit. “And second—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear it. That’s all you bloody do. Talk!”

Seething now because he had no idea what he’d done, Éibhear growled out between clenched teeth, “You, of all beings in this universe, have the nerve of accusing me of talking too much?”

“At least I have something to say.”

“No, you don’t! You babble. Constantly! Until my bloody ears bleed!”

That’s when she swung on him. But this time, he was kind of expecting that move, so he caught her arm and flipped her back on the table. She kicked him in the jaw, and gods! The woman’s legs were damn powerful. If he were truly human, his head would have been separated from his neck from that blow.