Chapter Four
He glided toward her, a hand extended in greeting. “Arianrhod.” His voice was deep, like rich whiskey, and she loved the sound of her name on his tongue. “I’ve heard so much about you. Nice we can finally meet.”
She took his hand, and he closed it around her fingers, his grip warm, vibrant, sure. She knew she was staring, but couldn’t help it. He was tall, maybe six-foot-four, with hair the color of old mahogany. It sheeted past his shoulders in silky waves. He had a high forehead, sharp cheeks, a beak of a nose, and a squared-off chin. Even though he wore nondescript clothes, they did nothing to disguise broad shoulders slabbed with muscle, a flat stomach, and slender hips. He sported knee-high lace-up boots similar to hers. Likely he had a hell of an ass, but she couldn’t see that part of him. A few days’ stubble dotted his cheeks and chin. Even with all that glory, his eyes were the best part. They reminded her of well-aged spirits, amber with golden flecks around the pupils.
He hadn’t let go of her hand. Energy flowed into her, and she lapped it like nectar.
“Ye must be Angus.” She swallowed back an inane desire to giggle like a maid. “Since we’re the only two with human form here, ye’d almost have to be.”
“Good guess.” His smile warmed his eyes. “Eletea and I have been here for a short time, and I was sent to guide you to the dragons’ council chamber.
Self-conscious, she tugged her hand from his grip. It would never do to skip blithely into the Dragon Council holding hands like a couple of schoolkids. What if Keene was there?
So what if he is?
It’s not as if he’s made even the slightest effort to find me these past hundred years.
Color splotched Angus’s face, and he glanced at his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t realize—”
She didn’t bother telling him how difficult it was for her to sever their connection. Angus was stunning, but he’d been sent here by Ceridwen too. Which meant he lived much too close to home for her to consider smoothing her hands down that magnificent body and tangling them in all that wild, glorious hair.
“Which way?” She tossed a sunny smile his direction.
He smiled back shyly, and years fell away, making him look like a bashful boy, albeit a very hot one. “The way I came from.” He rolled his eyes. “Nothing like stating the obvious, huh? Anyway, we should get going, the dragons are waiting for us—and keeping Danne and Eletea from scratching each other’s eyes out.”
“The dragon who brought me here said something about that. Apparently, Eletea has a mate who’s cheering from the sidelines.”
Angus frowned. “He doesn’t want her dead, just—”
“Shuttling on a ball and chain between the bedroom and the kitchen,” Arianrhod cut in.
Angus tossed his head back and laughed. The sound was velvety, masculine, and it sparked a reaction deep inside her. She wanted him to be joyful, yet she sensed resignation within him and wondered about its source.
“What you said about Cavet—that’s Eletea’s mate—about nailed it.” Angus half bowed, a courtly, old-world gesture that made her smile. “This way. We probably shouldn’t—”
A cacophony of dragon shrieks and screams blew through his words, obliterating the last of them.
Arianrhod had begun walking in the indicated direction, but she stopped dead. “Holy godhead. What the fuck do you suppose that’s all about?”
“No idea, but it can’t be good.” He took off running, with her at his heels.
She readied magic, sensing she might need to kill something, and power was quicker than her bow. Besides, it’d be a neat trick to take down a dragon—even with a crossbow. Possible, but very difficult. Smoke billowed through the tunnel, making her eyes tear. Her lungs smarted from inhaling smoke, and she pitched into Angus’s back because she couldn’t see a thing in front of her.
“Ooph. Sorry,” she panted and diverted a funnel of magic to clear the air enough to breathe. Dragons trumpeted around them, making her close to deaf as well as blind.
Angus waved a hand, and a bubble of clear air formed around them. “Better?” he asked, but she was coughing too hard to answer.
Black-tinged phlegm coated her hands where she’d coughed into them. “Yeah, thanks,” she finally managed and wiped her palms on a nearby boulder.
He turned to face her and placed his mouth near her ear. “I tried calling for one of the dragons I spoke with earlier, but no one answered.”
“I’m not surprised. No one could hear anything below eighty decibels in this racket.”
A corner of his mouth twitched downward. “Good point. I’ll try magic.”
The murk darkened in front of them, and a green dragon lumbered close. “You!” the creature shrieked and pointed a talon at Angus. “If you’d come back sooner, none of this would’ve happened.”
Arianrhod took a step forward. “If ye’d be so kind…” She inclined her head. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”