Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(33)

“Training for what?”

“To fight. So the next time the likes of you and your father try to kidnap me—”

Ragnar again stopped walking, his hands curling into fists. “Don’t ever put me in the same category with my father,” he told her plain.

Eyes wide, she said, “I didn’t mean—”

“And I rescued you. And when you were safe in your territory, I let you go. With both your wings still in place. I can assure you that Olgeir the Wastrel would have done none of that.”

“All right.”

Ragnar knew he’d snapped at her, but he couldn’t help himself. Yet he felt like a right bastard when all she did in return was hold up what was left of the turkey leg and ask, “Do you want the rest?” He should apologize to her, but he wouldn’t. Not when she dared compare him to his father. “Well…since I paid for it.” He took the leg out of her hand and tore off what remained of the meat before sucking out the marrow. When he was done, he handed her what was left—about three inches of hollow bone.

She held it up, her gaze moving from it to him. Several times.

When she said nothing, he did. “Let’s get back. We’ve got many miles to go before we can stop for the night.” They began walking again, and Keita, after tossing aside that piece of bone, asked, “Tell me, Lord Ragnar—do you want me?”

“Like the air I breathe.”

They both stopped walking again, the royal’s eyes wide as she looked up at him.

“But that’s why I have to stay away from you, isn’t it?” he asked.

Her shocked expression faded, and that smile—the one he was certain no one else but him saw—slid into place. “Only if you’re one of the clingy ones,” she admitted. “I do so hate clingy.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, her gaze examining him from his head to his feet and back. She giggled. “And gods, I do so hope you’re not one of the clingy ones.”

Her smile now wide, she headed back to their traveling party. “Come along, warlord, we’ve got many miles to go before we can stop for the night.”

And for the first time in nearly a century, Ragnar felt completely out of his depth.

Chapter Nine

They made good time to where they’d rest for the night despite their brief break at the fair, and were up and moving before the two suns rose the next day. By mid-afternoon, they finally landed a league outside the Southland border city of Fenella at the request of the Eastland dragon. It was supposed to be a short break, one for food and water, but then Her Majesty was walking off with her Eastland companion—as human. In another new gown. Where is she getting these clothes from?

“Where’s your sister going?” Ragnar asked the Blue.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you think to ask?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you concerned?”

“No.”

Ragnar’s claws itched to wrap around the royal’s throat, but that would be a waste of a perfectly good tree-clearer. “Get us food.”

“All right!” the Blue said happily, and headed off to raid the herd of sheep they’d passed on their way here.

“Could he annoy you more?” Vigholf asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You’re too hard on him. He’s a pup. We were like that once. Well…

maybe not you, but I was. So was Meinhard. He’ll grow out of it.” Meinhard cracked his neck, the sound echoing around the glen. “You going after her then?”

“She has her little foreign lap dog with her—what does she need me for?”

“Someone sounds bitter. And you’ve been a bitter bastard ever since you’ve returned with her from the fair. Why? What happened?”

“Nothing.” And that was the absolute truth of it. Nothing had happened when they returned. Instead, the royal had spent the rest of the previous eve talking to her foreign ally, which was fine with Ragnar. He didn’t have time for the royal and her games. “And I’m not bitter. I’m wary.

As you both should be. Don’t let that beautiful smile and swishing tail fool you.”

“You are such a tail dragon,” Vigholf said.

“I’m trying to give you some advice, brother.”

“And don’t forget her beautiful smile, Vigholf. I don’t remember either of us mentioning a beautiful smile,” Meinhard chimed in.

Frustrated, Ragnar demanded, “What are you two talking about?” Vigholf patted Ragnar’s shoulder. “We understand, brother. Really we do. All of us get to a point where we start thinking about settling down.”

“Settling down? With her?” That wouldn’t happen. And not simply because she saw becoming someone’s mate as some form of excruciating bondage either. As Ragnar had tossed and turned last night, unable to sleep with the dragoness that close to him, he’d realized what a mistake any involvement with her would be. Why? Because she was up to something. He knew it. Her brother knew it. That Eastlander definitely knew it. The only ones who seemed oblivious were his own damn kin.

“But you said yourself, brother, that she has that swishing tail.”

“And that beautiful smile with those perfectly aligned fangs.”