Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(67)

“Ow! Viperous female!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t add blades to the lid so that they’d remove your fingers altogether.”

Sucking on his wounded body parts, the Fire Breather said around them, “As much as you love what I can do with my fingers? You’d only be hurting yourself in the long run.”

Dagmar slashed her hands through the air. “And now we’re done!” She grabbed the tin of cookies and held it to her chest.

Gwenvael snorted and leered, his eyes focused on Dagmar’s chest.

“Like that’ll stop me.”

Not really wanting to see any of that sort of thing, Ragnar stood and said, “I guess I’ll be—”

“Why are you here, Lightning?” the Gold asked.

Ragnar had thought Keita’s moods and whims were impossible to follow. But this dragon…Ragnar had no idea how Dagmar tolerated the bastard.

“Your mother sent for me,” he replied.

“Are you her puppet warlord chief now—ow!” He grabbed his forearm and glared at his mate. “Pinching? Now we’re pinching?” In even less of a mood for a fight than for leering, Ragnar confessed,

“She asked me to pick up her sister Esyld in the Outerplains.” The couple stared at each other for a moment before slowly focusing on him.

“Why did she want Esyld?” Dagmar asked.

“And you dragged her here?” Gwenvael demanded.

“I have no idea why she wanted to see Esyld,” he told Dagmar. “And I didn’t drag her anywhere,” he explained to her mate, “because she wasn’t there to be dragged.”

“She’s gone?”

“And has been for some time. Your mother seemed concerned about that. As did Keita. Perhaps you should talk to them about it.”

“I’m talking to you, Lightning.”

Ragnar smirked at Gwenvael. “Challenge me if you dare, Ruiner.

Although I’m sure Keita will miss your presence greatly. She seems fond of you.”

“That’s enough,” Dagmar said softly. “From both of you.” She gestured toward the door. “Let’s return to your brother and cousin, my lord. And then we can talk to Keita.” The two males continued to glare at each other until Dagmar added,

“Please don’t make me get terse.”

Ragnar could see from the Gold’s expression that he understood—as Ragnar did—that Dagmar’s terse was equivalent to a dragon army destroying an entire continent. They gestured to the front door and said to Dagmar together, “After you.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Here.” Talaith shoved the bundle into Keita’s arms. “Say hello to your newest niece since you couldn’t be bothered to come and meet her when she was born.”

“I thought you weren’t mad at me,” Keita complained, barely glancing at the child.

“And when, pray tell, did I say that? You fly off in a pouty princess rage and leave me, Dagmar, and Annwyl to deal with all that gods-damn brotherly whining that followed. You’re lucky I didn’t lock you in a room with those three.”

“It’s not like I lived here, Talaith. All of you rarely saw me anyway.”

“Very true. But your brothers have always been in contact with you.

At least once every few moons or so. But this time…nothing.” Wearing simple black leggings, a sheathed dagger tied to her right thigh, black leather boots that reached her knees, and a rather large grey cotton shirt, Talaith dropped into a chair. Considering how she dressed and, to a degree, how she acted, it amazed Keita that Talaith, Daughter of Haldane, was one of the most beautiful females she’d ever met. “And why is it that we haven’t heard from you exactly?”

“If you must know,” Keita said, holding the blanket-covered baby in her arms but staring out one of the windows and the bright sky just out of reach, “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“I didn’t know any of you were capable of being embarrassed.”

“Only the females have that issue,” she said without much thought.

Talaith laughed, and, as Keita glanced over to smile back, an impossibly tiny brown hand touched her chin. Something strong and electric shot through Keita’s system, and she immediately focused on the babe.

Wide violet eyes gazed up at her from a tiny brown face surrounded by curly silver hair. Not in all her years had Keita seen anything quite so beautiful. Quite so…clear. Yes. That was the word for it. Clear. Pure and clear and untouched by centuries of anything.

Voice thick with emotion, she said, “She has Briec’s eyes. And his hair color.”

“Aye,” Talaith agreed, watching Keita closely. “She does. And you do know what that means for the rest of us, don’t you?” Keita winced in sympathy, knowing exactly what it meant. “It means that as far as her father’s concerned, she’s the most perfect child ever to walk the world if for no other reason than she came from his loins?” Talaith briefly raised her hands. “Now you see what you’ve left us to deal with all this time. For that alone, we should oust you from the family ranks.”

Grinning, Keita asked, “Has my brother been completely insufferable?”

“He’s always been completely insufferable. Now he’s also intolerable.” The displaced Nolwenn witch rested the heel of her foot on the chair and wrapped her arm around her bent leg. “He adores that child as wolves adore the moon. All day, every day, we all hear about how perfect she is. ‘Look how she perfectly squeezes my finger. Look how she perfectly throws up her breakfast. Look how she perfectly shits her diapers.’ It’s endless!”