“Shake that moneymaker, baby! You go! Make that barrier pay! Kick it! Show us more biceps! Spank it till it bleeds! C’mon, you can do it. Pound it harder! Put some muscle into it.”
Aghast and irritated, Falcyn turned around to glare at Medea as she sat on the ground beside Brogan and catcalled to them while he, Urian, Blaise, and Brandor sought some way to break through the barrier. Hands on hips, he narrowed his gaze at her. “Not helpful.”
Medea put her hand up to her lips before she leaned closer to Brogan to whisper rather loudly. “Neither are their attempts, but notice it doesn’t stop them from trying.”
Brogan laughed.
Falcyn arched a brow at their misplaced humor. And it was then he was struck by just how different the two women were. Not only because one was blond and the other a brunette. Medea was dressed in black leather, tight T-shirt and jeans, and heeled boots with an innate I’ll-cut-you-for-irritating-me aura that bled from every fiber of her being. Meanwhile, Brogan was much softer with her multi green and brown shimmery gauze that floated over her brown leather. Even though she was a powerful kerling with the abilities of a Deathseer, there was an air about her of serene gentleness.
How sick of him that he preferred Medea’s rough fire and spirit to Brogran’s much more subdued and quiet nature.
Yeah, he felt nothing for the kerling, but one look at Medea was enough to make him hard and aching for another taste of her lush, full curves.
Even while she insulted him in front of everyone.
“Instead of heckling, woman, you could try helping.”
She flashed a grin to expose a hint of fang that for some insane reason he found adorable. “I am helping. I’m giving you encouragement, dragonfly.”
His jaw out of joint, he turned toward Urian. “Would you considerthisencouraging?”
“Coming from my sister? Yeah. She’s not throwing things at you or directly insulting us and our parentage. Hell of an improvement, if you ask me. Makes me wonder what you’ve done to her that she actually located some semblance of humor and good nature.”
Medea shot a blast at Urian, who deftly dodged it and laughed before returning it with one of his own.
“Hey!” Falcyn snapped, shoving Urian aside. “Play nice! You hurt your sister and I’ll fry your ass. Ash or no Ash.”
Medea righted herself from where she’d dived to miss Urian’s blast. “You tell him, sweet cheeks.”
Urian scowled. “Is she drunk?” He glanced back at Blaise and Brandor. “What did you throw on her again?”
“Water.” Brandor wiped at his brow.
Medea scoffed. “I’m fine. We’re just enjoying the sight of male stubbornness at its prime best, and wondering at what point the lot of you will cede defeat to the Penmerlin’s shield.” She glanced over to Brogan. “How long have they been pounding this poor defenseless shell now?”
“At least an hour.” Brogan wrinkled her nose.
Blaise shot a sudden blast at it that ricocheted and hit Brandor squarely in the chest. The blast knocked him back fifteen feet and sent him head over heels until he landed on his side, in a smoking heap.
Medea burst out laughing again.
With a groan, he pushed himself into a seated position to glare at Blaise. “Really, mandrake? Really?”
Squeaking in fear for her brother, Brogan scrambled to her feet to check on Brandor and to make sure he didn’t attack Blaise out of anger over his indignity.
Medea opened her mouth and rubbed her thumb against her fang. “You know, Falcyn, I think that puts the wall over for bonus points on all your sorry hides.”
“At least we’re doing something. You could try your hand at it, you know?”
“Why? It’s obviously not budging. If sheer force of will could open it, I’d give it to you and it would have surrendered ten hours ago.”
“Onehour ago.”
“Tomato. Tahmahto.” Leaning on her side, she propped her head on her hand and rested her other arm in the hollow of her narrow waist. “I should go ahead and take a nap while the lot of you waste your time.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the words or her new position, but right then a nap was the last thing he could think about.
Medea naked under him…
