DK 04 - Last Dragon Standing by G.A. Aiken

Author:G.A. Aiken [Aiken, G.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Humorous, Paranormal, Dragons, Romance, Paranormal Romance Stories, General
ISBN: 9781420108880
Google: UfPalJsXQvkC
Amazon: 1420108883
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2010-09-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Ragnar got as far as a copse of trees outside the fortress walls before he decided to stop and face the princess. She gazed up at him with those brown eyes and asked, “That went badly, didn’t it?” And that’s when the laughter started all over again. So bad, he couldn’t stop. He just sat down in the grass and let the laughter roll right through him.

“It’s not funny!” Keita yelled, stamping her bare foot. “You could have bloody warned me!”

“You didn’t give me or anyone else a chance! I don’t know which was better. The look on your face or the look on hers!” Keita paced away from him, her hands twisting against each other.

“How was I supposed to know that was Dagmar Reinholdt? A warlord’s daughter? I thought she’d be huge! A snarling, snapping hound beast!” Ragnar pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her. She gave a small shrug. “My brother has…interesting tastes.”

She continued to pace. “I feel horrible!”

That surprised him. “You do?”

“Of course I do. I never wanted to hurt her feelings. But with that headscarf, those pieces of glass on her face, and all that grey…how was I to know?”

“Those pieces of glass on her face are spectacles.” Keita, appearing horrified, briefly covered her mouth before asking in a desperate whisper, “She’s blind, isn’t she? I mocked a blind woman!” Laughing again, Ragnar fell back on the ground.

“It’s not funny!” She stood over him, scowling. “Don’t you see? She’s probably crumpled at my brother’s feet right now—sobbing hysterically!” Stretched out on their bed inside their fortress sleeping quarters, Gwenvael asked, “Does this mean I can call you my sassy servant girl now?”

“No, it does not.” Dagmar sat on the edge of the bed and pointed a finger at her dog. “And don’t you come over here. I’m still not speaking to you.”

Whining, the dog lay down on the floor, tucking his muzzle between his paws.

“How about blind slave girl?”

“No.”

Gwenvael moved over until his head rested in her lap. “How about saucy serving wench?”

Dagmar plucked lint off the sleeve of her gown. “All right, but only when we’re alone and you’re naked.”

“Shouldn’t you be naked as well?”

She sighed, in desperate exasperation. “If I’m already naked, then you can’t very well rip off my clothes and demand I service you with my mouth or you’ll bring in your many brutal guards to force me to comply—now can you?”

Gwenvael shivered, his hand reaching up and sliding into Dagmar’s hair before pulling her down to him. “How in all the hells did I forget the best part?”

“I’ve devastated that poor, wee thing and destroyed her will to live.”

“You really have not been in touch with your kin at all these last two years, have you?”

“I was busy!” She paced away from him, returned. “I’ll go straightaway and apologize. It’s the least I can do.” She hadn’t even moved yet, but Ragnar caught her arm. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because you’ll only show Dagmar weakness, and she will prey on that weakness the way one of your relatives is preying on that carcass over there.

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