She stumbled back, over pieces of old, rusty armor, and grabbed a breastplate his talons had fairly ruined. She held it up as a shield, and for a moment, her gaze snapped to the piece of shredded metal. She stilled then, a lump going down her slender throat. Her amber eyes widened. “Is this what happened to all the knights?”
“I ate them. Aye.” Not his favorite meal for certain. He always forgot some piece of armor, or a hidden dagger strapped to the thigh, and then he’d have indigestion for a sennight.
Einin flashed a fierce scowl. “You conscienceless bastard.”
“They did come to kill me.” Not that Draknart had to explain himself to breakfast.
“And the virgins?” she challenged, chin up, before scanning once again the pile of garbage that littered the corner of the cave, mixed with dirt and decomposing leaves. And when she swiftly found an old broadsword, she didn’t bother to hide the flash of triumph in her eyes.
“I swived them, then ate them,” he told her. The memories were sweet.
Einin paled, but her chin stayed up, her newfound blade in the air, even if her slender arms struggled with the weight. “They could have done you no harm.”
“I couldn’t send them back to the village after I swived them. They were ruined for mortal men. I did them a mercy.” He was good that way. Never did cause unnecessary suffering, unless to a well-deserving enemy. Otherwise, his kills were clean and instant. He didn’t pull off limbs one at a time and consider the flailing of his victims entertainment, as some of his kind did.
Yet instead of approval, a flash of red came onto Einin’s soft cheeks, and she did scream then, for the first time, just before she charged. Not a scream of fear, like Draknart was used to from maidens, but a battle cry.
He feinted to the left, then rolled his great dragon body to the right. Blood rushed through his veins at a speed it hadn’t in a long time. Only when Einin nicked the tip of his snout did he knock the sword from her hand with a talon. Not that being disarmed held her back. She bit the tip of his wing. Which happened to be another sensitive spot.
Shite.
He rolled onto his back, planning to use the momentum to roll over her, but she was fast and on his belly the next moment, climbing up and up.
Aah. Och now. That felt nice.
He stilled. He very nearly sighed.
She skidded to the spot where he’d pointed out his heart earlier and dropped to one knee as if readying to slay him. She didn’t seem to realize that she was unarmed.
Except, of course, she wasn’t. From out of nowhere, the wee lass produced a kitchen knife and plunged the little weapon hard between the dragon’s scales. Only luck saved him, for the blade was too short, the vixen unable to do him real harm.
Draknart wrapped her in his leathery black wings and brought her close to his snout once again, baring his curved fangs.
The sparks were back in her fine amber eyes, defiance blazing from their depths. Her shapely breasts heaved. Her fiery hair had escaped her braid during the fight and now floated around her slim face in a cloud of red silk.
Draknart righted himself without letting her go and regarded her as he gave matters some thought. “You do realize, Einin, that even if you could kill me, floods would still happen, war would still come?”
She held his gaze without flinching. “The village is cursed because of the great devil that lives in the hills.”
Draknart had heard that sentiment, or versions of it, enough times. “Says the village priest?”
Yet no village priest had ever been brave enough to come and confront the great devil himself. Draknart had his opinion of the lot. “Rain brings floods. Greed brings wars.”
The look of certainty on her face faltered. Her expressive eyes betrayed that she had considered the matter on her own before. Of course she had. She was a smart wee lass.
Draknart set her down. “You don’t believe the curse.”
She shrugged narrow shoulders. “What I believe matters not when the whole village listens to the traveling priest.”
The dragon raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the old village priest?”
“Died of cholera.”
He grinned. “Full of shit, died of the shits. Seems fitting.”
Einin glared. Then she gave a soft sigh. “The village has lost too much, and the people’s will is broken. Darkness is strangling their hearts. They need hope. The traveling priest is right about that.”
“So because men are weak willed, I should die?”
