Yet she’d be something to hold him over until he flew out and found a deer herd large enough to suit his appetite. Aye, she’d take the edge off his hunger just fine. In but a moment. He enjoyed her fire-spark eyes too much to rush.
A long time had passed since he’d been able to converse with anyone. The virgins fainted in short order. The knights charged and died.
“How might you be doing it, then?” he inquired.
Her sword came up, the metal glinting in the cave’s dim light. “Straight through the heart.”
He couldn’t find fault with the plan. He waited.
She did not step forward. Instead, her gaze moved over him in a full inspection.
Smart lass. “You know where the heart is on a dragon?”
She blinked at him.
Draknart pointed at the middle of his chest, halfway between the joints where his great wings began.
“Thank you.” Einin of Downwood sidled toward him. She was nothing if not polite.
“You had training with the sword?”
“I had nine brothers. All killed in the war.” A soft vulnerability crept into her voice. She shook that off quickly enough as she stole another step forward. She now stood close enough to strike.
Draknart shifted into a half-hearted defensive position. He’d done this time and time again with the knights. She would charge, and then he would capture and disarm her.
Instead, the wee lass darted to his side, vaulted onto his knee, then onto his back, ran along his spine as sure-footed as a mountain goat, and went for his eye.
Draknart shook her off with a surprised roar. Yet when she slammed against the rock wall with a most unpleasant thud, he regretted his haste. By the gods, he hadn’t meant to break her so fast. Also, as long as he was breaking bones, he preferred to do it between his teeth. They gave that jolly crack.
To his relief and to her credit, Einin bounced back, holding the sword in front of her, if lower than before, and with a tremble in her arms. Her gaze was only half-focused. The blow had stunned her. But she shook off the tumble, steadied her arms, and, after a moment, she stalked forward again.
Tumble or no, she didn’t lose her courage. Her fine eyes did hold a shadow of discouragement, however. Draknart instantly missed their earlier spark.
“’Twas a good effort. Didn’t see it coming,” he consoled her. “You’ll do better on the next try.”
He flicked his tail in anticipation. He was willing to stifle his hunger for the sake of a little sport. True entertainment rarely came into his life, and he found the maiden refreshingly unpredictable so far.
On her second attempt, the lass charged for his heart and managed to prick him hard enough to draw blood before he grabbed her, pulled the sword away, then held the wriggling maiden up for closer inspection.
Her round breasts bounced as she struggled, caring naught that he might drop her on the stones.
Bold and brave and wild.
His dragon blood stirred.
He nudged her with his snout. The previous virgins had been scented with lavender water, which always made him sneeze.
“You smell like axle grease.” A fine pleasant smell, reminding him of a wagonful of fattened geese he’d taken in the fall.
The noisy batch of fowl had been on their way to market. Draknart had eaten them for an appetizer, the two horses for the main meal, and the man on the seat for dessert. The peasant had that faint smell of axle grease about him. Didn’t affect the flavor none.
Draknart licked his chops and sniffed Einin again.
“Let me go, you great lecherous beast.” The wisp of a woman used her bare fists to smack him between the eyes, right on the ridge of his nose, which happened to be a sensitive spot on a dragon.
No call for a punch like that, none at all.
He set her in the nearest corner and breathed a small cloud of smoke as warning.
