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  “Have I hurt you badly?” he asked when he could speak.

  Long moments passed before she answered, courage glinting in her eyes. “I’ve been hurt worse.”

  He remembered the scars on her back. He flinched. “I am sorry, sweeting.”

  “My body feels…” She trailed off, then she tried again, “My body feels…” But she couldn’t finish on the second try either.

  “I swear, if I could have stopped it, I would have. I would have if it killed me.” He gathered her against him with all the tenderness he possessed. “Is it terribly bad?”

  “It’s an ache, but it’s more than an ache. I need… I still need…” Once again, she didn’t know how to finish, but she rubbed the juncture of her thighs against his thigh in a tentative gesture of seeking.

  He was hard as an anvil already. The gods were still swirling the storms of passion outside.

  Einin explored his chest with her slim fingers.

  He flattened her hand against his hot skin under his palm. “I don’t want to hurt you even more.”

  She stilled. But a moment later, her lips brushed against his shoulder, as if she couldn’t stop.

  He knew how she felt. The air was thick with lust. And now the cave held the scent of their lovemaking and mutual arousal. His sensitive dragon nose could not avoid it. His body pulsed with need so sharp as to be on the edge of pain.

  “When will it stop?” Even as she asked, she bit him.

  Hot pleasure cut through him as her small teeth sank into his skin. “When the gods finish.”

  She moved over him, sprawling over his body, burying her face into his neck as if trying to hide. “I can’t. I can’t,” she begged, but then she kissed his collarbone and sucked on his skin.

  He wrapped his arms around her, the thought that he couldn’t keep her safe killing him. “I know.”

  She squirmed on top of him, on his hardness. “But I need…” She nearly cried with the words.

  He soothed the delicate curve of her back with his large hands. “I know, sweeting.”

  A sob escaped her.

  “Straddle me,” he said.

  She sat at once, one knee on either side of him, her pale breasts glowing in the darkness of the cave.

  Draknart folded his hands under his head so he couldn’t grab her. “Do what you want, sweeting. Take what you need.”

  She squirmed in distress, not fully understanding. “I need…” She gasped in distress. “Inside me.”

  “Take it, then. As slow as you need. As much as helps.”

  Understanding at last, she rose to her knees, then reached for his full hardness. When her fingers closed around him, he couldn’t help the groan that tore from his throat. He thrust into her hands. When she didn’t protest, he kept thrusting. He didn’t stop until she brought him to her opening.

  He didn’t want to hurt her again, so he held himself completely still as she slowly, experimentally lowered herself onto him.

  She took in only the swollen head at first, then sank a bit lower, then another bit. She winced and gasped all the way down, but she took him in to the root. Then she squirmed to adjust to him being inside her again, and the next gasp that left her lips was a sound of pleasure.

  Her gaze begged him. She was clearly at a loss as to what to do next.

  “Ride me as you would a horse.”

  The image that immediately invaded his head was nearly enough to make him spend inside her all over again. He gritted his teeth to hold still instead of grabbing her hips and pumping into her with wild abandon.

  She began to move, up and down, riding, grinding. She let her head fall back, her silken hair cascading down her sweet body. Her puckered nipples thrust forward with every move she made.

  He wanted to touch them but didn’t dare remove his hands from under his head. He would not take over. He would stop himself.

  Yet he couldn’t stop himself completely.

  “Take your nipples between your fingers for me, sweeting,” he told her, “and roll them.”

  She looked shocked, but she was desperate for something more, and she trusted that what he advised would help. So she cupped her firm breasts in her small hands, covered them with her palms first, ran a tentative caress over her nipples, and moaned, her eyes glazing over.

  “Now pinch them,” he ordered.

  She did and cried out in shocked delight.

  His hips began to move. He couldn’t help it. “Pinch them tighter.”

  She did, her breathing growing hard and uneven.

  “Now roll them.”

  She obeyed, and rode him faster, rougher.

  When she spent her pleasure, squeezing him, milking him, Draknart lost his control. He grabbed her, rolled her onto her stomach, lifted her hips, with her face resting on her folded arms on the cave floor, and plunged into her tight opening from behind.

  She cried out. But as he pounded his need into her, she began pushing back, meeting him thrust for thrust, arching her back, her soft moans begging him to bring her to completion once again.

  He reached around her with one hand and found her throbbing nub, pinched it and rolled it, the same as she’d done with her nipples. The gods be damned, he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop, he wanted everything she had.

  When she flew apart in his arms, he at last shot his seed inside her pulsing, tight channel.

  Later, as they lay next to each other, Draknart cursed the gods again. He’d wanted Einin, but not like this, not without control. Not when neither of them could make the choice for themselves.

  He understood then that the goddess had not forgiven him. The years she’d given to Einin were no years at all. The goddess expected Einin to run from the dragon in the morning. How could she not, after Draknart had spent the night ravaging her body?

  She wouldn’t ever want to see him again.

  Chapter Ten

  When Einin made her way to the cave’s mouth in the morning, Draknart was still sleeping the sleep of the dead in the back of the cave. She peeked through the opening before she stepped outside. The sun shone brightly down on the clearing. No sign of the gods. Safe.

  Trees had fallen, bushes had been ripped up by their roots, leaves, torn from their branches, lay scattered everywhere. Einin picked her way through the debris and headed to the lake. She needed to clean herself, and she needed the cool water to soothe the soreness between her legs. Even her nipples ached, and she blushed furiously at the knowledge that she’d been the one to torture them—at least some of the time.

  She’d considered herself a woman before last night. She’d lived alone in the village. She’d cut her own wood. She’d snared her own pheasants in the woods to cook. She’d gone to the dragon. And she’d come back. She was no twittering maiden, even if she’d still been in possession of her maidenhead.

  Yet, this morning, she somehow felt more of a woman than she had been before. What Draknart had done to her… What she had done to Draknart… Their fierce mating awakened a part of her that she hadn’t met before. She liked that part. She liked being a woman who could pin a man like Draknart to the rocks by his shoulders and take from him what she needed. She liked knowing that she was the kind of woman who had survived being tossed to a dragon and could survive being witness to the clash of the gods.

  She walked into the water and smiled at the thought.

  She walked in until the water was chest-high and washed herself. Then she dropped to her knees and dunked her head under for a few seconds, holding her breath, trying to make sense of the new world she’d woken to this morning.

  She was just coming up for air when she spotted Draknart tearing down the narrow beach with as much haste as if he was rushing to battle.

  “Einin!” he roared when he spotted her, and he faltered for a moment before he resumed his mad dash.

  He ran into the water, and when he reached her, he roughly dragged her up, flattened her against his wide chest, and held her there, his strong arms like iron bars arou
nd her body. A very dragonly groan escaped him. “Einin.”

  She lay her cheek against his warm skin and inhaled his scent of faint smoke and sex and more—her own scent still lingered on him. Red nail marks crisscrossed his chest. Hers. As were the teeth marks on his shoulders. She was pretty sure she also had his teeth marks on her neck and breasts.

  She regretted nothing.

  From the way he was holding her, it didn’t seem as if he was regretting the night either.

  His voice rumbled above her. “I woke alone.”

  “I needed a quick bath.”

  His great chest expanded, moving under her cheek as he drew a deep breath, then let it out again. “I thought you’d left.”

  She could feel his manhood between them, hot and hard, but he made no move to seduce her. She, too, held still, resting against his heat that had the power to warm her even in the cold lake.

  He eased back, opening his mouth to say something, but his lips snapped shut as his gaze darkened, dipping from mark to mark that he’d left on her skin. Then he abruptly turned from her and strode into deeper water, then dove to swim.

  She waited for him for a few moments, but when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to return to her anytime soon, she waded out of the water and went back to her clothes to see if any of them were salvageable.

  No luck there.

  She swore like the goatherd her father had been as she stared at the strips of fabric with chagrin. They were unsuitable for anything save to be used as bandages. She would have given much for just one softly worked goat skin.

  Maybe Draknart could catch a few more rabbits. Their pelts would have to do. No time to cure them, but any cover was better than nothing.

  In the meanwhile, she picked up the widest strip of fabric, a leg of her brother’s britches, then tied it around her waist. The second widest strip she tied around her breasts. The she picked up a few more and fashioned herself a sword belt. By the time she thrust her sword into the belt, careful not to cut herself, she felt better.

  She turned to seek out Draknart and found him standing outlined in the mouth of the cave.

  Oh. Her eyes widened as she realized something. Her mind had been so crowded with memories of the previous night, she’d been too dazed to notice that… but now… Oh! Her blood rushed in her veins as she lurched forward. “Draknart!”

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his tone gruff. “I beg your forgiveness.”

  “Draknart, you’re—”

  “I did not mean what happened, not the way it happened.”

  “Draknart—”

  “Can we start anew?”

  “Draknart!” she shouted, hurrying to him.

  His gaze dropped to her right hand. The thought that he was checking for her sword flitted through her mind, but she discarded it as she reached him. “You’re a man!”

  He froze.

  He looked at his feet. Then he put one hand on his naked chest, the other on his stomach. An endless moment passed before he said, his gaze suddenly troubled, “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head, bewildered. He stepped back, then rolled his shoulders, as if hoping to roll the human skin off. His lips tightened. Odd sounds came from his chest, as if he was trying to hold back a pained roar.

  He shook his head again, harder, then blinked at her, gritting his teeth. “We need food. I’ll hunt.”

  Then he was hurrying away, striding into the woods, and disappearing before she could call him back.

  Einin stared after him, her blood chilling.

  If the goddess turned him into a man all the way… He would hate that. He would hate it more than anything in the world.

  Would he blame Einin for her part in the mess that meeting the god and the goddess had been? Her breath caught. Maybe he wouldn’t take her back to his cave. Maybe she’d misinterpreted his embrace in the water earlier. He might have been just glad that she had survived the night, that the goddess wouldn’t come back to punish him for yet another mortal’s death.

  He had swum away from her.

  Confused, she stared at the spot where he’d disappeared into the woods. And then the stark truth finally dawned on her. Draknart no longer needed her.

  At first, he’d only wanted her for a quick swiving, then a quick meal. Then he’d decided to bring her to Belinus as a gift. But Belinus had not taken her. The god had not turned Draknart back into full dragon. And Draknart had swived her, a number of times, during the night. He had what he’d wanted there. The memory flushed her cheeks with heat.

  He was finished with her now. He no longer needed her for anything.

  Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She paused to examine the sensation.

  Why did she care? Draknart had brought her to the fairy circle to give her to Belinus.

  But he didn’t.

  He had risked the wrath of the gods for her. And she wasn’t blameless either. She had tried, more than once, to kill him.

  Can we not start anew? he’d asked earlier. But how did he mean it? Did he mean they should part ways and pretend they had never met?

  There went Einin’s heart twisting again.

  She was in love with Draknart, had fallen for him like an empty-headed maiden. But Draknart didn’t love her back.

  I thought you’d left, he’d said when he found her in the lake. Had he hoped that she’d leave?

  Yet after he’d said that, he had drawn her into his arms. Maybe he had meant it as good-bye. His body had been aroused, but that seemed to be a permanent condition for him, and he’d made no move to take her. He’d gone for a swim instead. And now he’d left her again.

  Last night… What happened in the cave had been completely overwhelming for Einin yet made her feel alive and awakened. Draknart, however, probably found her woefully inexperienced and inadequate.

  But he said I was his! her brain screamed.

  He meant for the night, doubt whispered.

  Try as she might, Einin could not puzzle out what to do next. She could not stay at the fairy circle. She was certain she would not survive another encounter with the gods. Lingering at the entrance of their realm would be beyond foolish.

  She could not return to her village. She would not survive that either. The image of the men, led by the priest, entering her hut with torches at dawn, was burned on her brain.

  She thought of the young knight Draknart had flicked into the water. There was a village on the other side if the lake. She could seek shelter there. But how would she explain appearing out of nowhere, alone and practically naked?

  The knight had seen her with a dragon. If she appeared, unharmed… What if they too branded her as a witch?

  Draknart strode from the woods with three dead rabbits dangling by their feet from his hand. He also brought an armful of dry branches. He tossed the game on the ground, then began the makings of a fire. She helped by drawing her sword and skinning and gutting the rabbits, careful with the pelt.

  Once the fire was roaring, while they waited for the high flames to die down a little so the meat wouldn’t be scorched but evenly cooked, she scraped the inside of the pelts with her sword, then rubbed them clean with sand.

  Draknart put the carcasses on a spit, the two of them working in silence.

  From time to time, she caught him looking at her meager coverings. She couldn’t see how he could find fault with them, since he had even less—nothing, in fact. She avoided looking at him as much as possible, especially that part of him. Even thinking about it made the ache between her legs reawaken. She didn’t understand how it was possible that the ache could feel pleasant.

  After they ate, they drank from the lake. Einin rinsed the skins, then combined them with what clothes she had left to provide a little better covering for herself.

  “We’d best head back.” Draknart held her gaze. “If you wish to come with me.”

  “To your cave?”

  He stared. “To start. And after that…” His v
oice trailed off. “We’ll have to walk. I’m not certain how long the journey will take.”

  The lost look on his face, so unlike him, twisted her heart. She stood. “We’d better leave before the gods return.”

  She could swear his entire body went slack with relief, but he said nothing.

  They didn’t talk as they found an animal trail going in the right direction and followed it. Cutting through the forest was slow going. The trail was uneven. Protruding roots tripped her. Branches stood in her way. Their progress was painfully slow compared to the ease of flying to the fairy circle. She missed sailing through the air.

  How was that possible? She’d only flown a few times. She wondered if she would ever fly again and knew Draknart must be wondering the same, and how terrible that wondering must be for him.

  Night had fallen by the time they reached Castle Blackstone.

  Draknart stomped forward. “We’ll spend the night in the ruins.”

  Einin was grateful that he would think of her and make sure she was all right. He had the strength of a dragon still; he wouldn’t tire, but she did. He could see in the dark, but she could not. She preferred to continue their journey in daylight when she wouldn’t have to stumble over every root and rock.

  They cleared the trees, and the familiar castle towered before them, lit by silver moonlight. Draknart couldn’t fly them to the top of the last remaining tower like last time, but the great wooden gate hung open and allowed entry.

  Einin followed Draknart to the tower’s base. The door lay on the ground to the side. In the middle of the darkly yawning opening, a small light drew her eyes. A firefly she thought as they drew closer. But then the light grew. And grew.

  She drew her sword. Draknart stepped in front of her. Then neither of them moved, although, Einin did peek around Draknart.

  “I have you to thank for the reconciliation between myself and the goddess,” Belinus said as he fully expanded into a towering beam of light.

  They waited, knowing that interrupting the god was not advisable.

  “As my gift, accept this castle and the blessing of the gods. Lord Draknart,” Belinus said, “and Lady Einin.”