What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(135)

Disappearing into the alcove, she returned a moment later with one of the Minotaur blades. Considering the amount of blood on it, he assumed it was the one used by Annwyl to wipe out the Minotaurs’ entire unit. “Here.”

“What’s this for?” he asked, not taking the weapon right away since he wouldn’t put it past her to suddenly change her mind and take his head.

“Uh … well, I … I can’t keep it here, now can I?”

“Why not?”

“Why not?”

Annwyl walked back into the alcove and held the blade over the babes’ crib. The boy turned over and began to snore. But his sister … she reached for it with both hands, her dark eyes wide and excited. True, she might have that reaction to anything shiny and over her crib—but Bercelak doubted it.

“Does that answer your question?”

The human queen pulled the blade away and held it out for Bercelak—and he took it.

For a warrior like him or Annwyl, this was something to keep, to treasure as proof of superior fighting skills. She could easily mount it on her wall like other weapons she’d used before, thereby keeping it out of the reach of her daughter. But, instead, she’d given it to him.

“I’ll keep it … uh … until it’s safe enough to have it around her.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Bercelak,” she said, quickly adding, “… for taking it.”

“You’re more than welcome, Annwyl.”

Then with a short nod and a smile at his grandchildren, Bercelak returned to Rhiannon, the prized Minotaur sword held tightly in his hand.

Gwenvael opened the door to his room and just as quickly closed it. His hand on the handle, he looked down at Dagmar. “Why don’t we go to your room? It is so much nicer.”

He didn’t know why he bothered trying to lie to her. She simply studied his face for one second before she dug her short nails into his hand. “Ow!” Gwenvael released the handle and Dagmar pushed the door open.

The gorgeous blond—she had a name, but he’d be damned if he could remember what it was—sitting naked on the bed perked up when she saw Gwenvael again, but then her lip jutted out in a pout when she caught sight of Dagmar. “Oh.”

“I know this looks bad,” he began, but Dagmar walked into the room and over to the blonde. She leaned down and began whispering in her ear. He tried to hear her, but his damn human ears could be so useless sometimes!

The blonde went from being disturbed that a strange woman was so close to her and right into horrified. The problem was she was staring at Gwenvael in horror. Then she gasped, disgusted, and got off the bed. She picked up her clothes and ran out the door, easing past Gwenvael, as if afraid to touch him. He watched her tear off down the hall before walking into his room and closing the door.

“You going to tell me what you said?”

“No,” Dagmar replied, diving back on the bed. “I’m not.” Then she laughed, which he didn’t like the sound of one bit since it was much more like a cackle.

“You know, I don’t need you damaging my reputation.”

“Yes, because there’s such pride in being Gwenvael the Defiler.”

“It’s Ruiner! And that’s only in the north. And those slappers had their own reputations long before I arrived. But here in the Dark Plains, I am Gwenvael the Handsome. Gwenvael the Loved. Gwenvael the Adored.”

“Gwenvael the Whore.”

“In some parts of Dark Plains, yes. Just remember, you’re representing me now.”

That made her cackle harder. “Oh, am I?”

“Yes. You are.” He stepped farther into the room. “Which is why I brought you up here. We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She reached down and pulled the skirt of her gown up, raised her knees, and let her legs fall open. “All right, you. Get that mouth to work and it’d better not be for talking.”

“Although I do find that strangely arousing, that’s not why we’re here.”

She dropped her dress and sighed. “All right, what is it?”

He stared down at her and announced, “I’ve decided to give you the gift of making you my own by Claiming you as my mate. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Dagmar pushed herself up, her palms flat on the bed. “Is that the best way you could come up with to ask me?”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Yes. That’s the problem.”

“Why?”

“Is it too much to expect to be asked that sort of thing?”

“I’m a dragon. We don’t ask; we take.”

“You mean to tell me that Fearghus didn’t ask Annwyl?”

“The rumor is he tied her to the bed.”

“Talaith?”

“She woke up and boom, she’d been Claimed. And that’s not a rumor; that’s what she told me.”

Dagmar narrowed her gaze then snapped her fingers. “Queen Rhiannon.”

“Chains.”

“No! Really?”

“Really. See? I’m the nice one. I’m trying to do it the polite way. Announcing it before tying you down.” When she only stared at him, he snapped, “And why wouldn’t you want to be my mate? We’re perfect together.”