How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(65)

“That’s not what I’m—”

“We have to go. Whatever’s going on, Annwyl will want to know about it right away.” She turned to leave, but a big arm slipped around her waist and spun her back around. Éibhear pulled her into his body, holding her there while he stared down into her face.

“Do you really think I’ll just let you walk away from what happened last night?” he asked, not sounding angry . . . just challenged.

“Do you really think you can stop me?” Izzy grinned. “Are you really up to trying?”

At the same time, they both looked down. Because their bodies were so close, neither could see the erection currently pressed between them, but Izzy could easily feel it. He was hard as a steel spear, sooooo . . .

“Well, guess that answers that.” She pulled away from him. “Come on, Macsen,” she called out and her dog loped to her side. Part of his fur was crispy from the flame, but he still seemed to be doing well. Although she did have to pull out a piece of still-sizzling, melted stone from his mouth. Gods, the beast chewed on anything!

Éibhear watched Izzy walk away with that ridiculous dog that he wasn’t really convinced was actually a dog.

She’d dismissed him. He knew all the signs. After years among the Northland dragons and a lifetime among his kin, Éibhear knew when he’d just been dismissed like a pesky gnat flying around her nose.

Honestly, he’d been treated like that so often, he normally didn’t worry about it unless someone got on his nerves. But Izzy wasn’t getting on his nerves. She was pissing him off. Still!

And she’d finally have to learn that was always a mistake.

Chapter 21

Annwyl watched Dagmar’s young nephew lean over the picnic basket to look inside. She tried not to frown too much—she’d been told her frown could be terrifying—but she didn’t like anyone’s nose that close to the food they’d all be partaking in.

Placing her hands on his shoulders to gently pull him away, she jumped when the boy nearly came out of his skin.

“Sorry,” she quickly said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No . . . um . . .”

“Would you like to come with us?” she offered. Annwyl felt so bad for the boy, remembering her own youth, when tormenting her had seemingly been her idiot brother’s only pastime. She could tell that this boy’s own kin probably hadn’t been much better, probably just with a bit less outright hatred.

“It’s just a picnic with the twins, Rhi, Dagmar, Talaith, and Fearghus’s Uncle Bram. We talk books. Well . . . some of us talk books. Talwyn glowers.”

The boy looked down at his feet. “I don’t read much. It’s a bit of a struggle.”

Dagmar had muttered something about the boy not being too bright, but not everyone was a reader. Talwyn certainly wasn’t, but Annwyl would hardly call her conniving, plotting daughter thick. And Dagmar could be a bit of a snob when it came to intelligence. The barbarian wasn’t above using anyone, no matter their intelligence level, but she only accepted those she deemed “smart enough” into her inner circle.

But Frederik was just a boy. A boy who didn’t fit in anywhere by the looks of him, and that was something Annwyl completely understood. Gods, she’d had to involve herself with a completely different species before she found those who considered her tolerable to be around.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Rhi skipped down the stairs in a lovely midnight-blue dress with a fur cape draping her small shoulders. The leather bag her father had had made for her nearly ten years ago was over her shoulder and most likely filled with parchment for sketching, drawing quills, and inks. She brought little else when she traveled any distance from the castle.

“It’s such a lovely day out!” she happily chirped. “And just before winter. I hope there’s cheese!”

Annwyl fought not to laugh. “Aye. There’s cheese. I know how you love your cheese.”

“Is Daddy coming?”

“Your father, Fearghus, Gwenvael, they’re all off at Devenallt Mountain with your grandfather.”

“Ahh, important doings amongst the males.”

“That’s doubtful.”

“And Auntie Keita? Uncle Ragnar?”

“Off to Keita’s cave for the day.”

Rhi smiled at Frederik. “Are you coming, Lord Reinholdt?” And only Rhi would call a fourteen-year-old boy lord anything.

The boy frowned, deeply, but didn’t answer. Rhi scratched the back of her neck. “Well . . . hmmhm.”

Annwyl was about to ask the boy what he was doing, but a voice right behind her barking, “Mum,” startled the holy crap out of her.

“Talan!” she snapped, facing her son. “Stop sneaking up on me.”

“I didn’t.” He dropped into a chair and immediately grabbed one of the baskets and began to dig through it. The boy was a bottomless pit of hunger. No matter how much he ate, he never seemed to be filled.

Annwyl snatched the basket back. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s not coming.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming?”

He lifted his hands and shrugged. “She’s not coming.”

Irritated, Annwyl demanded, “Why not?”