“Get off my back,” the dragon snapped through sobs. “No one rides me without my permission. No one.”
Angus wrapped his arms around Arianrhod and used magic to cushion their descent. Once she was on her feet with rain pounding on her head, Arianrhod turned to the dragon. “Ye might offer us a spot of thanks,” she suggested dryly. “Ye werena in a verra good position when we found you.”
“Later,” Angus muttered. “Let’s get the lot of us back to Fire Mountain. Then we can dissect this all we want.”
“Surely Rhukon and Connor wouldna be so stupid as to come after us,” Arianrhod protested. “Both of them are wounded.”
“The main thing wounded about Malik is his pride,” Eletea spoke up. “I agree with the Seer. We must leave. I’ll find my own way. Here’s yours.” She sent a blast of dragon magic into the midst of the thunderstorm, and the outline of a time-travel shaft opened in the murk.
Arianrhod opened her mouth to say they’d finish this on Fire Mountain, but the dragon was gone, vanished into the teeth of the storm.
Angus gripped her arm and dragged her forward. “The dragon gave us a gift. I say we take it.”
She was barely settled in the undulating tunnel when she heard the enraged blare of dragons on the hunt.
Angus barked a word, and the portal sealed them in. Arianrhod layered spells atop his to keep Malik and Preki, Connor’s dragon, from following them into the shaft. Nothing would preclude the two showing up at Fire Mountain, but she didn’t believe they’d be that rash. The other dragons would crucify them once they discovered what they’d done.
“Even I didn’t think they’d be that close on our heels.” Angus shook his head. “Was Rhukon always this vindictive?”
She curved her mouth into a grimace. “Aye, that and more. I always believed he courted the dragon shifter bond to ensure his survival. That one made enemies everyway he turned.”
“I can see why.” Angus glanced at a node as it sped past. “Fire Mountain, then where?”
“Let’s get through this next confrontation with the dragons first.” She was hedging, but she couldn’t plan any sort of future that included Angus. It wasn’t possible, no matter how much she might want to.
Arianrhod settled her body into a more comfortable position. So long as she had the time, she pulled her long, tangled hair from beneath her top and dragged her fingers through it. When most of the snarls had given way, she hastily created two more braids, securing them with pieces of leather drawn from her many pockets.
“You’re quiet,” Angus observed.
“Aye.” She tilted her head and gazed into his marvelous eyes. “Your magic is impressive. I’ve never seen the like. What do ye know of it?”
“Not much. I have strong affinity for earth and water. They protect me, and they heed my commands.”
An idea formed. Before her own needs got the better of her, she said, “Would ye like me to help you return to your own time?”
He drew his brows together. “If you—or anyone—had asked me that before I met you, I’d have jumped on it.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest, and a warm, buttery feeling spread through her. “And now?”
He grasped one of her hands. “Are you offering to come with me or merely open a gateway for me to travel through?”
She tried to say she’d just be doing some spadework to figure out where he belonged and help him get there, once she homed in on it, but the words curdled on her tongue. She didn’t want to leave him anymore than he wanted to leave her. After a long silence, she finally admitted, “I doona know. Ye weaken my resolve.”
The crooked smile she loved crossed his face. “If you’re coming with me, of course I’d like to see where I came from. If not, I prefer to remain where you are.”
Alarm bells rang so loud they deafened her, and she pulled her hand away. “It doesna matter what ye want, or what I want. We canna be together even long enough to decide if what flows between us is real.”
“Why not? If it’s just that virgin huntress thing—”
She held up a hand, and the rest of his words died when he looked at her. “’Tis who I am. I canna be aught but that. ’Twasn’t as if I had a choice. Danu did the choosing. She assigned us roles. ’Tisn’t like a factory job where I can turn in my keys and sayI quit.”
“Why not?” he persisted and captured her hand again. “How many thousands of years do you owe them? Besides,” he forged ahead, “it’s not as if you have to hang up your sigil and your bow. You could—”
“It doesna work that way.” She spoke over him, desperate to drown out the longing spilling from her. “What if Arawn said he dinna wish to shepherd the dead anymore? Or if Ceridwen upended her cauldron, and the world grated to a halt?”
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Shivers of wanting him cascaded through her, but she couldn’t summon the strength to pull away from his touch.
“They’re not the same.” His deep voice rumbled, echoing slightly in their enclosed space. “And you know it. Your primary role in the Pantheon doesn’t have much to do with enforced virginity. You’re living a lie. The dragons know. I heard the undertone in their voices.”