Can't Get Enough (Dragon Kin) - G.A. Aiken Page 0,10

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. If she could have reached him, she would have slapped his face.

She wished she’d aimed her tail lower. Perhaps cutting his vocal chords would have eased her growing resentment.

Enjoying that vision more than she should, Shalin let her gaze slide back to the floor and back to the images of her flying.

Flying anywhere but here.

“You’ll need to leave her be, Ailean.”

Surprised, Ailean glanced at his aunt. One of his mother’s bloodline. When his mother had died, his Aunt Briaga had done what she could for Ailean and his brothers, when not dealing with her own offspring or in battle.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and the innocent. Stay away from her.”

“Why?”

His aunt gave him that look she used to when he’d bang his head into walls to see how long before he could actually break through. “Look at her. Poor, shy little thing.”

“Shy? Her?” He watched Shalin for a moment and saw how his aunt could make that mistake. Sitting there with her back straight, the dress she wore slipping off all the best places, but still managing to look innocent and untouched, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. But Ailean was no longer fooled by Shalin the Innocent. “She’s not shy.”

“Och! Deniela, tell him.” One of his father’s many sisters, Deniela had two things to her name. Her lethal way with a battle ax and that she was the mother of the Cadwaladr Twins.

“Tell him what?” Deniela asked, chewing on what better be dried cow. Ailean forbid the eating of humans on his territory. He’d already had to clear up a few things for Shalin when she’d casually asked, “Is she dinner?” as one of his servants had walked by with two water buckets from the kitchens. The buckets hit the floor, and water went everywhere.

And then there had been the hysterical screaming…

That was when Shalin realized the humans in his territory knew exactly who and, more importantly, what he was. That had confused her, which he had to admit, he enjoyed doing. The look on her face was comical and adorable all at the same time.

Briaga leaned across Ailean and said to Deniela, “Tell him he can’t be bothering the little dragoness. Look at her up there.”

“Och. I know. Isn’t she a sad little thing.”

“What are you two looking at?” Because all he could see was the viper who ripped the hairs from his head. And the discovery of some bald spots did nothing but make him want to return the favor to the little royal.

Deniela pinched Ailean’s arm lightly and it took all his strength not to scream out in agony. “You stay away from her, Ailean the Blue. Look at her. Poor wee thing.”

“Oh, come on! She attacked me, you know?”

“Aye,” Briaga agreed. “Threw that ax at you to protect her innocence.”

“That is not what happened, and that’s not what I’m talking about. Just today she attacked me. Pulled hair from my head.”

“Why do you lie to me?” Deniela laughed. “We both know I’m smarter than you. That wee thing would never attack you, so stop making up stories. Don’t you feel bad for her?”

“No!”

“Ailean! I expected more from you.” She leaned in closer and whispered louder, “Look at her face. That deformity.”

“What?” Ailean looked at Shalin. “What are you talking about?”

“Those horrible things on her face.”

“Oh, no, no,” Briaga explained, incorrectly, “that’s just mud. She needs a bath.”

“It’s neither. It’s freckles.”

“Then I was right. Deformity.”

“And you know,” Briaga whispered, “she’s probably a virgin. And you, Ailean the Slag, are not the dragon for virgins.”

“What does that mean?” And was Shalin a virgin? Ailean shuddered a bit. He didn’t entertain virgins. Much too much responsibility for his liking.

“She must be. How else would she get such a name?”

“Especially living at court,” Deniela muttered, pulling more dried beef out of the little carry bag she kept tied to her sword belt. “All the fucking that goes on there.”

“So you just keep your claws and your cock to yourself, Ailean the Whore,” Briaga warned him, “or I’ll be pulling your father out of his cave to deal with you and he’ll be none too happy.”

He definitely wouldn’t be happy. For other dragons—a normally unsocial group—to call Ailean’s father Afton the Hermit said a lot. Still, it was better than his earlier name. Afton the Murderer. But there had been a reason for that. A very good reason.

“Fine. I’ll stay away from her.” At least while she was at his home, under his protection,