“Have you ever asked me if I want to live forever?” she shouted with rage. She threw her sword at him, missed, then picked up a stone from the ground to hurl it.
Draknart didn’t duck. He let the missile hit him. He deserved that for not being honest from the beginning. He did. Now, as he watched Einin spin on her heel and march away from him with angry strides, his guts felt as if he’d eaten the fairy circle’s boulders for breakfast.
At the edge of the clearing, she turned again to call back. “Fine. I choose to go to Belinus. I will serve the god, and I will live in Feyland forever.”
No! The fire inside Draknart roared. To hear the words from her lips was like a broadsword slicing through his heart.
His muscles coiled. He raked the ground with his talons as he rose to pace. He hated the look of disgust on her face. He wanted that face cradled in his human palms, just before his lips descended on hers. He wanted that lean, strong body. He wanted her fiery spirit and her sharp tongue. He wanted her courageous heart.
He could keep Einin. He would. He’d bring a different maiden for Belinus. He could bring as many as a dozen, pick all the comeliest lasses from the village across the lake.
Aye. The god would have to settle for a different maiden. Because the thought of Belinus touching Einin filled Draknart with a murderous rage. Belinus would not take her soft lips. The god would not hear her sigh in passion. Einin would not squirm in pleasure under anyone but Draknart. She would not spar with anyone else. And if she traveled the world, she’d be flying with him.
She was stomping toward the deer path, probably to head back to the lake, avoiding his gaze, no doubt thinking about living in Feyland. Was she thinking of the god, thinking of seducing Belinus? Molten fury exploded through Draknart.
He surged forward.
“You will not give yourself to the god!” he roared. The birds in the trees took flight with a mad storm of flapping wings. “Einin of Downwood, I claim you by my dragon’s right.”
She squared her shoulders as she roared back at him, “I am a woman free and wild. I’m not yours to claim!”
Chapter Eight
“I choose Feyland!”Einin shouted at the beast who’d broken her heart into a hundred useless pieces.
She’d been so lonely for so long that she’d begun thinking that traveling the world with Draknart might not be so bad. They would fly in the clouds, hunt together and camp together, see wondrous sights like the fairy circle.
For the briefest time, she’d dared to hope that the life she’d always dreamed of but never thought she’d have was possible. Yet all along, he had different plans. To him, she was nothing but a pawn, a bargaining chip, a gift he had the right to give away—an object without a will of her own.
She would choose the path of her own life, she and no other. She found she was willing to fight to the death for that right. “You cannot take me one day, give me away the next, then take me back again.” She glared at him with all the fury and heartbreak she felt. “I will not be taken nor given!”
The dragon stomped toward her, more angered than she’d ever seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, thick smoke curling from his nostrils. He looked ready to devour her.
Might have been smarter to fight with him once he turned human. How far to midnight? It had to be near.
Her gaze flew to her sword, behind him on the ground. More fool she! She shouldn’t have just thrown the sword. She should have run him clear through.
A small voice whispered inside her: Run and live to fight another day.
Einin stood her ground as the dragon reached closer, pulling back his lips to reveal fearsome fangs. She braced herself, expecting him to tear into her. But in the blink of an eye, Draknart was suddenly man, naked and…aroused.
Her feet wouldn’t move.
Another two long steps brought him within arm’s reach. His dark gaze burned her. They were toe to toe, their breaths mingling.
“I’m sorry.” He lost all anger and his tone was now a pained plea. “Forgive me, Einin.”
So as not to fall into his eyes, she closed her own for a moment. It didn’t seem possible, but suddenly, she found Draknart the man even more overwhelming than Draknart the dragon.
Heat radiated off him. His faintly smoky, masculine scent surrounded her.
“Einin,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
He might have said more, but a different voice interrupted, a deep, resonant voice that filled the clearing like rumbling thunder. “I thought she was to be my gift.”
Einin’s eyes snapped open. Who said that?
She didn’t get to see. She was nearly knocked off her feet as Draknart swept her behind him in an instant.
