What a Dragon Should Know

I already explained this. I don’t like you. True, I don’t like most people, but I especially dislike you. I could start my own religion based on how much I dislike you.

Are you in great physical pain, or is that your thinking expression?

Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?” “Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.” “Heal? I’m hideous!” “You’re alive.” “Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!” “Stop it!” She pulled at his hands. “Have you lost your mind?” Gwenvael dropped back to the bed, turned his face toward the wall. “You know what this means, don’t you?” “Gwenvael—” “I’ll have to live alone, at the top of a castle somewhere. I’ll hide from the daylight and only come out at night.” “Please stop this.” “I’ll be alone but not for long because you’ll all want me more. You’ll lust for the beautiful warrior I once was and pity the hideous creature I’ve become. Most importantly, you’ll want to soothe my pain.” He looked at her again. “Don’t you want to soothe my pain? Right now? Without that dress on?” “No. I do not.” Dagmar tried to stand, and Gwenvael caught her hand, pulling her back down. “You can’t leave me. I’m tortured and brooding. You need to show me how much you adore me so I can learn to love myself again.” “You’ve never stopped loving yourself.” “Because I’m amazing.

Dagmar knew there were worse things in this world than pretending to be a caring, demure woman. For instance, actually being a caring, demure woman.

Normally, I’d lie and connive and do whatever necessary to make you take me into the south.” “But …” More tears began to flow. “But that thing …” “Thing? What thing?” “That thing … in one’s head … that tells you when something would be wrong to do. It won’t let me do it.” Feeling a sudden high level of annoyance, Gwenvael carefully asked, “Do you mean your … conscience?” Her tears turned into hysterical sobs, and she went down on her side, her head dropping into his lap. “Dagmar! Everyone has a conscience.” “I don’t!” “Of course you do.” “I’m a politician, Gwenvael! Of course, I don’t have a conscience. At least I didn’t. Now I’m cursed with one. And it’s your fault!” Somehow he knew that last bit would happen.

Adjusting her frames, Dagmar said, “It’s time for you to stop talking.” “I don’t want to.” “But you will stop talking.” “We’re on my territory now, Beast. You can’t strut around here and pretend you rule all—” “Quiet.” “But—” She raised her right forefinger. “She—” Dagmar raised that damn forefinger higher. “It’s just—” Now she brandished both forefingers. “Stop.” He gave Dagmar his best pout, which she completely ignored, turning her back on him to again face Annwyl. “Think there might be some place private we can talk, my lady?” Gwenvael’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just dismiss—” Dagmar held up that damn forefinger again but didn’t even bother to look at him when she did. Annwyl’s grin was wide and bright. A smile Gwenvael hadn’t seen from her in far too long. “Right this way, Lady Dagmar.” “Thank you.” Dagmar brusquely snapped her fingers at Gwenvael. “And don’t forget to bring my bags up once I get a room, Defiler.” Annwyl fairly glowed as she followed Dagmar from the room, her smile growing by the second. Gwenvael faced his sister. “It’s Ruiner, which is a vast difference.So get it right!” he yelled at the empty doorway.

It was those damn wool socks. He didn’t realize he loved her until she told him about out-negotiating a god of war—the most haggle-loving of the gods—with socks!

He smiled at her. “Now, are you going to thank me properly?” “I said ‘thank you.’ That’s considered in some cultures as thanking you properly.” “I was hoping for a little more than that.” She studied him for a long moment before she nodded. “All right.” She scooted down a bit on the bed, pulled her gown up high on her thighs, and relaxed back into the mattress. “If you could make it quick before the food gets here, that would be great.” Gwenvael felt a small twitch beneath his eye. He often got something similar right on his eyelid but only when he had to deal with his father. Apparently a new one had developed that belonged only to Lady Dagmar. “That’s not what I meant.” “I hope you’re not expecting me to get on my knees because I don’t think the healer—” “No!” Good gods, this woman! “That’s not what I meant, either.” “That’s always what men mean when they ask to be thanked properly.” “Your world frightens me. I want us to be clear on that.” He leaned over and grabbed her waist, lifting her until her back again rested on the propped-up pillows. “I’m unclear as to what you want, then.” “A kiss,” he said, pulling her dress back down to her ankles. “A simple kiss.

What are we doing with him?" Briec asked eagerly. "Are we throwing him out a window? Let's throw him out a window! Or off the roof!

Dagmar turned when she felt a tug on her sleeve, a human male standing next to her. “Yes?” “Yeah, how much for the blonde?” Dagmar blinked, glanced back at Gwenvael and the three girls before asking, “Pardon?” “The blonde. How much for the blonde? The bigger one. Just for an hour or so?” Of course. Dagmar would never be one of the whores … she must be selling the whores. “Five coppers for an hour,” she replied. “Any more than that and it’ll cost you.” “An hour will do.” He reached into his pocket and handed her five copper pieces. She dropped them into her satchel, tapped Gwenvael on the shoulder, and said, “He’s bought you for an hour of sex. Enjoy.

How long should a dragon of my stature be expected to survive without a warm, willing pussy at my disposal?

Feeling her strength return right along with her annoyance, Dagmar stepped back and raised her foot, slamming it down on the tip. “Ow! Evil barbarian viper!” He rose on his hind legs, his front claws grasping his tail. “You are aware this is attached to me?” “Yes. That’s how I knew it was taking liberties!

Dagmar tried to stand, and Gwenvael caught her hand, pulling her back down. "You can't leave me. I'm tortured and brooding. You need to show me how much you adore me so I can learn to love myself again." "You've never stopped loving yourself." "Because I'm amazing.

As he was forced to tell his father more than once, “I said I’d fight for my mother’s throne. I never said I’d die for it.” Then he’d add, simply to annoy the old bastard into one of his frothy temper tantrums, “Don’t you think I’m too pretty to die?

Gods, Annwyl. What’s wrong?” Morfyd demanded. Green eyes turned to them and Annwyl sneered, “Nothing. I just wanted the two of you to shut up. You’re going to make us look bad in front of the barbarian!

He stopped before opening the door and faced her. "You'll leave the window open for me and you'll be naked. When I come back, I'll take what I want from you, as many times as I want to." He grinned; it was pure and raw and astonishingly beautiful. "Understand me Lady Dagmar?" She shook her head. "No. You'll have to explain it to me." "I will. Even if I have to tie you to bed and explain it to you again and again and again." He looked over one more time. "And don't play with yourself after I'm gone. Don't want you wearing my pussy out before I've had a chance to use it." With his hand on the door, Gwenvael rewarded her with the warmest smile she'd seen from anyone. "Besides, you look so beautiful when you come, I don't want to miss a second of it.

You won’t be expecting forever, Annwyl. And once the twins are here, you’ll be as violently cruel and madly bloodthirsty as you always were.” “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.” “Is it working?” “A little.

It wasn’t the first time he’d run for his life. And it most likely would not be the last. In the past few decades, though, he’d mostly run from angry fathers who’d found him where they felt he should not be. Or he’d run from town guards—sent by angry fathers who’d found him where they felt he should not be.

Go on,” he offered magnanimously. “Feel free to piss on yourselves and cower helplessly.” Gods, sometimes his generosity overwhelmed him.

Found naked with a few of his grandfather’s kitchen maids? His father’s claw right to the back of the head. Suggest that when his mother was in human form she may want to stay away from things that brought out the largeness of her ass? His father’s claw right to the back of the head. Set up a small eightieth birthday party for his youngest brother Éibhear that involved a few of the local brothel girls? His mother’s claw right to the back of the head.

Whose seal is this? I don’t recognize it.” Annwyl let out a sigh. “The Reinholdt.” “The Reinholdt?” He frowned in thought; then his body jolted. “Good gods! That madman from the north?” “The very one.” “Honestly …” He glanced again at the letter. “I didn’t know anyone in the Reinholdt Clan could write.

You want us to bargain with a lizard?” “They’re not lizards, Father. They’re extraordinary creatures who were here long before any human was crawling on this earth. They are warriors and scholars and—” “He has long hair like a woman,” one of Sigmar’s sons blathered

I invite you to enter the world of my Dragon Kin—where the dragons are much saner than the humans surrounding them could ever hope to be. —G.A. Aiken

And why does Father want me out there? You do know it’s a myth what they say about virgin sacrifices and dragons, yes?” “Of course I know that,” he snapped in such a way that Dagmar knew he believed the myth to be true. “And after them three marriages, you ain’t much of a virgin yourself, now is ya?” “Those last two barely counted.

No offense, Dagmar, but so far every human who’s been told about Annwyl’s pregnancy without the necessary backstory has been quick to label Annwyl a whore and her babes demons. Yet you don’t seem to care.” “Am I carrying her children?” Dagmar inquired while licking her fingers. Morfyd raised a white brow. “Not that I’m aware.” “Then to quote my father, ‘I really don’t give a battle-fuck.

just as many items for dragons as humans, ranging from whole skinned cows and deer for dinner

I’m a politician, Gwenvael! Of course, I don’t have a conscience. At least I didn’t.

Yes, but I don’t understand all these rules you have in place. Who you can help, who you can’t, when, how…it’s endless. They’re all so complicated.” “But they have their reasons. I and the other gods of war built these rules for gods and the creatures we gods create for one simple reason.” “So that when the rules are broken, there’s war?” The goddess stilled for a moment and then giggled. Giggled like a child. “Yes.” She bent over at the waist, her arms around her middle, the laughter becoming louder. “That is why! And it works every bloody time!

Briec glanced at his kin. “Mother, our mortal enemy is here for tea and biscuits.