What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(65)

The dragon looked down. “By the gods, they actually talked the old bastard into it. Hold on!”

She managed only a yelp before they seemed to be diving directly at the lake and the dragons surrounding it. Even more horrifying was the dark brown dragon heading right for them. They seemed to be on a collision course, and there was nothing Dagmar could do except grit her teeth and prepare to leap for safety into the lake. Of course, as high up as they were, she’d die on impact, but what choice did she have?

But the pair of dragons stopped with barely an inch between them.

“You idiot bastard! Did you think you could take me on?” the dark brown one demanded.

“Of course I can. But didn’t want to have to explain to the queen how I had to kill one of my own blood.”

Laughing, they reared up and hugged, which left Dagmar sliding off the dragon’s back, the only thing keeping her from falling to her death the grip she had on his hair.

“Falling!” she screamed. “Falling! Falling! Falling!”

“What?” Gwenvael glanced back at her. “Oh!” He went back to a more lateral hover and Dagmar rested against his back, her breath panting out of her.

“Sorry. Forgot you were back there.”

“Bastard,” she muttered.

The other dragon flew around to look at her. “Well … hello.” He gave her a smile that she assumed he thought was endearing but, considering the number of fangs in his mouth, was anything but. “I’m Fal of the Cadwaladr Clan. Mightiest dragons of the land.”

She heard Gwenvael snort but ignored him. “Dagmar Reinholdt. Of the Northlands.”

“A Northland woman? Ho, ho, cousin! You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Shut up.”

He held out a long black talon and Dagmar took hold. A sort of dragon-to-human handshake. “I am very glad to meet you, Lady Dagmar.” He leaned in a bit, his snout extremely close. “Whatever this golden bastard has told you is a lie and I’m the pretty one.”

“I already know that, and I’m sure you are.” She winked at him, and Fal laughed.

“I like her, cousin.”

“Mitts off, boy. She’s under my protection.”

“Is she?” Fal looked at her and back at Gwenvael. “Isn’t that what humans call putting the wolf in charge of the barn?”

“You’re still talking. I still hear you talking.”

Worried these two might get into a friendly family battle that would leave her dead next to the lake, Dagmar cut in, “You know, I’d love to have the ground beneath my feet once more before I die.”

“What?” Gwenvael asked. “Oh! Sorry. Sorry.” He bumped his cousin. “Move, you big-headed bastard. I need to get my lady to safety.”

“I’d stop here first before heading to the castle. Unless my lady is afraid of so many dragons in one place?”

Dagmar sniffed. “I’ve tolerated him for far longer than I thought I’d have to. I’m certain I can handle anything at this point.”

“What’s that mean?”

But Fal was laughing. “I like her. She’ll do fine here. Come on!” The brown headed down and Gwenvael followed.

“I like your cousin,” Dagmar said offhandedly and was shocked when Gwenvael abruptly stopped.

“And he’s a whore, so keep away from him.”

“But”—Dagmar tapped her chin—“Ragnar told me you’re The Defiler.”

“It’s Ruiner. Stop getting it wrong. And I have boundaries. My cousin has none. So no matter what he tells you, he’s simply trying to get under your skirt.”

Having never been warned off a male before, Dagmar sat back and enjoyed herself. “But what if I don’t mind him being under my skirt? What if I’d, in fact, like him to be under my skirt?”

“If you suddenly decide you simply must have someone under that skirt, you’re to let me know.”

Dagmar felt a sharp thrill. The dragon hadn’t kissed her or anything else since that time on Esyld’s bed. For the three days they’d been traveling together he’d been polite, protective, and extremely chatty, but he’d never touched her. She’d assumed he’d simply lost interest as she knew males of every species would do no matter how beautiful or not a woman might be.

“I’m to let you know? And why is that again?”

“Because you’re safe among my kin now, Beast, which allows me to focus on getting what I need.” He glanced back at her. “What we both need, I’d wager.”

“You really so sure?”

“As a matter of fact, Lady Dagmar”—Dagmar squeaked when she felt Gwenvael’s tail slap her rear—“I’m quite sure.”

Gwenvael wanted to shift to human as soon as he landed and get Dagmar back to the castle, but his family swarmed over him and before he knew it he was in the midst of hugs and slaps on the back that nearly broke his spine in two. Some of his kin he hadn’t seen in quite a while, but it would be hard for anyone to tell, they’d so easily fallen back into their comfortable camaraderie.

While he greeted his kin, he kept a watchful eye on Dagmar. Although she appeared completely out of place, she didn’t seem unnerved or frightened by the dragons surrounding her. She didn’t try to hide or get herself to a safe place behind a tree. She simply stood there. His little self-contained volcano.