Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(83)

“I’m sorry!” he lied, grabbing firm hold of the stalking-away royal. “I am so sorry.”

“You are not sorry! You agree with her, I’m sure. Let’s take the whore down a peg.”

“Don’t tie me into this fight with your sister. This is between the two of you. I’m merely an innocent bystander.” Ragnar sat down on a bench and pulled Keita until she flopped down beside him.

“Miserable old cow,” she muttered.

“Now, now. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Her small fist jammed into his arm.

“She always does this, you know,” Keita said. “She starts a fight with me.”

“She started the fight?”

Keita glared at him. “Are you saying that I started the fight?”

“I’m saying that to my eyes both of you are equally guilty.”

“I should have known you’d side with her.”

“I side with no one.”

“Liar!” She stood and began to untie the bodice of her dress.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting away from all of you. I knew I should never have returned.”

“Keita, don’t go.” If nothing else, don’t leave him here alone.

“I’ll not stay where I’m not wanted.”

“And who said that? Your brothers and their mates seemed quite happy you’ve come back.”

“Too bad!” She practically tore the dress off her body before flinging it at Ragnar. He had yet to understand exactly what he’d done to earn her rage as well.

“Where are you going?”

She stormed naked to the middle of the courtyard and shifted to her natural form. “Away.”

“But what about—” She flew off, and Ragnar sighed out, “The plan?” He gazed down at the dress in his hand. It had been quite pretty on her.

“That color will bring out your eyes,” the foreign dragon said from behind him, making Ragnar jump a little.

“Where the battle-f*ck did you come from?”

“Everywhere. Nowhere.” Ren moved his hand through the air. “I am one with all that is around us. The land, the sea, the—”

“You smell like pu**y.”

Ren’s hand dropped, and he sat in the spot on the bench Keita had left.

“I smell like several pussies actually, but thanks for noticing.” He grinned, motioned to the dress. “Keita flounce off?”

“You could say that.”

“Must have been her sister, yes?”

Ragnar answered by sighing again.

“Don’t let it bother you. That’s what they do.”

“I’m not used to it. Northland females simply don’t…act that way.”

“He’s right.” Dagmar sat down on the other side of Ragnar. “We don’t act that way. Instead, we’re quietly catty, vindictive, and vicious. But I will say this…if I thought I could pay both sisters to join forces and go to my father’s fortress to start a fight like the one I just witnessed with my sisters-in-law, I would.” Dagmar clenched her hands together. “I’d give up everything to make that happen.”

Ren laughed while Ragnar scratched his head and said, “This has been such a long day.”

Keita debated heading to Fearghus’s cave in the middle of Dark Glen.

There she had the option of seething by herself or teasing some of the guards who protected the cave at all times since the birth of the twins. Although when she thought about it, she wasn’t really in the mood to tease, flirt, or f**k anyone. She was, however, in the mood to punch her sister in the face.

That she’d like to do.

The bitch! The judgmental, callous bitch!

Deciding that going to her brother’s cave was as good a plan as any, Keita tilted her wings and began to loop around toward Dark Glen. But when she caught sight of a pit fire on one of the hills, she adjusted her flight pattern and headed over. It was late, and she wanted to make sure everything was safe so close to her nieces and nephew. Yet when she took a good look, she immediately dived down, landing hard on her talons, the ground shaking beneath her claws. And as soon as she shook her hair off her face, a chorus of female voices cheered, “Keita!”

She moved closer, shifting to human so she could take the bottle of wine held out by one of her cousins and a blanket from one of her aunts.

“Heard you were back, little miss,” said her Aunt Bradana, one of Bercelak’s much older sisters. “You couldn’t come and visit until now?” Bradana’s voice was like wagon wheels over stone due, in part, to where her throat had been cut during a brutal battle nearly four centuries ago.

“Don’t question me, aunt,” Keita said, making sure to sound as imperious as possible. “I’ve had many royal things to do the last day involving cranky Lightnings and pouting brothers and gods-damn, evil bitch sisters!”

Grinning, all the females said, “Morfyd.”

After a healthy gulp of wine, Keita said, “Is it my fault she’s frigid? Is it my fault she could only find a human male who would tolerate all that piousness? Is it my fault she’s a bitter, bitter hag?”

“Yes, it is,” said one cousin.

“Shut up!” Keita sat down hard on the ground, her female kin laughing around her while she gulped several more mouthfuls of wine before handing the bottle off to someone else. “And can I just say I’m sick of everyone? Even you lot, and I haven’t seen most of you in ages. I should have stayed away.”