“Are you a maid?”
She made a choking sound.
“A virgin,” Tavish clarified. “A woman who’s never known a man.”
“Oh, my gods,” she said, her voice rising. “I know what a virgin is. And for the record, a woman doesn’t need to have sex with a man to?—”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “Areyoua virgin?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting her to turn the question on him. Then he scoffed. “Of course not.”
“Congratulations,” she snapped. “My sex life is none of your business. But no, I’m not amaid.”
Possessiveness flashed in his eyes. He stood slowly, planting his palms on the table as he leaned toward her. “Good. Then you know what to expect.” His voice dropped to a growl. “But I’ll tell you this, lass—you’ll never touch another. Not now. Not ever. Those days are behind you.”
Her mouth fell open. “You arrogant?—”
“You’re ours now,” he said, resuming his seat with a satisfied look on his face.
I drummed my fingers on the table, my mind racing. Mullo Balfour had hated dragons since a pair of my countrymenkidnapped his daughter. The union had ended happily enough, producing Niall Balfour, a powerful water witch halfling. Furious at seeing his daughter wed to two dragons, Mullo had tracked her down and killed her. He’d done it in cold blood, knowing that taking her life would cause her mates to die of sorrow. Enraged at Mullo’s actions, Cormac had stormed Mullo’s castle and slaughtered Mullo’s son and heir.
He’d also taken Niall as his mate, twisting the knife of revenge deeper in Mullo’s gut by ensuring Mullo’s sole descendant was Niall, a dragon halfling. So Mullo had struck back with the ultimate revenge: the Curse. By killing every female dragon, he’d ensured our species would die out—and that Cormac and Niall would watch it happen even as they were powerless to stop it.
It was masterful strategy. Evil and twisted, but masterful.
“…the most disgusting creature I’ve ever met,” Portia was saying.
“I highly doubt that,” Tavish replied, sarcasm heavy in his tone. He pushed a length of black hair over his shoulder. When Portia tracked the movement, a wicked smile curved his lips.
“Don’t smile at me!” she snarled.
“Hard not to when you fancy me like you do.”
Their bickering invaded my thoughts, and I turned to Portia. “We always assumed the vampires were the ones behind the Curse.”
She stopped mid-insult. “Aye. My father thought the same, but he was wrong. We’re still working to repair our strained relationships with the Blooded Princes.”
Tavish huffed. “Best of luck with that. The only good leech is a dead leech.”
She cut him a dark look. “Calling them leeches is unlikely to help.”
“Good,” he said bluntly. “I’m not interested in helping leeches.”
She crossed her arms. “Yet another reason we can’t possibly be mates.”
He rested his hands on the arms of his chair, his big body the picture of nonchalance. The Pictish tattoos he’d earned fighting battles centuries before I was born gleamed on his skin. “Why all this resistance, lass?” He nodded to himself. “I was right the first time. Youareafraid.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then what?”
“I need to get home.” She gripped the edge of the table like she might push away from it and flee “I can’t stay in this time. Iwon’tstay here.”
Tavish eyed her grip on the table, and his dragon appeared briefly in his eyes. “Seems like you don’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice?—”
