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I stiffened in my chair, and Laszlo's wings rustled, but Hywel threw his cards down with a grateful shout and jumped up.
"See?" Laszlo said to me, nodding to Hywel's discarded hand. All modest values in a good mix of suits. He probably would've won.
I forced a smile while I chewed on the inside of my lip, more concerned with who was at the door than our abandoned game. Laszlo reached for my hand, and I snatched at him gratefully.
"It's all right," he said softly.
"I smell wolf," Hywel called from the hall.
My breath caught and Laszlo smiled, rising from his seat and holding out his arm for me to take. I tucked my foot back into the shoe I'd abandoned and slipped my arm through Laszlo's, smoothing my skirt with my free hand. It wasn't until I'd calmed my nerves that I realized Laszlo was also fidgeting, smoothing back his hair and rolling his shoulders, stretching and folding his wings in and out.
"Are you nervous?" I murmured to him.
Laszlo stiffened, chin bucking up proudly, and then blinked and glanced at me, a light blush blooming on his cheeks. "They haven't met yet."
It took me a moment to realize who meant. Hywel. Hywel and Conall. Which meant the undercurrent of flirtation and sexual tension I'd noticed between Conall and Laszlo hadn't been my imagination.
"Did you and Conall ever…"
Laszlo glanced toward the open door. "A long time ago. But his heart wasn't in it, and I was lonely. It had possibility, but he didn't strike me as…sincere. Until you."
Laszlo's hand was covering mine on his arm, and I raised my own free hand to link our fingers together. I had no idea what Hywel and Conall would make of each other. And I wasn't sure how sincere Conall really was, at least romantically. I didn't want to offer Laszlo empty reassurance, so instead I leaned in, kissing firmly at the corner of his jaw, nuzzling the delicate feathers there. He gusted out a sigh that ruffled loose strands of my hair and then nodded.
We were just stepping into the hall to follow Hywel's path when we heard the dragon's growling words.
"What on earth isthatdoing here?"
"Hello, pigeon," a silken, masculine tone greeted.
"Oh dear," Laszlo murmured, pausing in his step and glancing at me, wincing. "The Wyrm."
I'd heard the name mentioned a few times now, a possible nearby ally, and curiosity to see them at last made my steps quick, but Laszlo tightened his arm around mine.
"Stay back. Hywel won't want you tangled up with the Wyrm," Laszlo whispered before we turned a corner.
"Are they enemies?" I asked, surprised Asterion and Conall would go to someone Hywel deemed as a threat.
"They were lovers, ages ago," Laszlo said, waving his hand. "They nearly killed each other before the end of it."
We turned the corner, and the three men stood at the door at the end of the hall, Hywel's spine rigid and proud as he blocked the other two from entering.
"Rolant."
Rolant, the Wyrm, was a few inches shorter than Hywel, about the same height as Conall, with lovely, refined bone structure and long, straight brown hair. He was quite attractive, except that when his gaze glanced around Hywel's shoulder and he found Laszlo and me at the back of the hall, there was something cold and almost lifeless about the pale eyes staring at me.
"I don't mind the pair of you hissing at one another here in the cold, but I'd like to go inside, if you don't mind," Conall said, stepping forward.
He looked tired and a little ragged, and I wondered where and how long it had been since he last slept. Hywel's arms were holding the doors open and blocking Conall's entrance, and for a moment I wondered if Hywel would shut the door on them both, his forearms taut with tension.
Conall looked up at the dragon who had claimed me and spoke a few words I couldn't hear, although I thought Laszlo must've caught them because he choked on stifled laughter.
"I will manage Hywel and Rolant," Laszlo murmured to me. "You…settle Conall in. But be sure to come up to the nest before you retire."
I nodded, still watching Hywel and Conall, and Laszlo pulled his hands from mine, kissing my temple. He stepped in front of me, wings blocking my view briefly, and then he was halfway down the hall and Conall was practically charging toward me.
Was it my imagination, or was there a sunken quality to his cheeks? Had he not eaten in the past few weeks? Not slept? He was marching toward me with shoulders hunched forward and a dark stare, almost angry, and I braced myself, placing one hand against the wall as a snarl erupted from his throat.
He didn't slow, even as he was only feet away, and I stumbled back for a brief moment until his arms snapped around my waist, hauling me roughly to his chest. His entire body was shaking, and I gasped at the viselike grip of him around me. Tangled red hair filled my vision as Conall pressed his nose and mouth to the side of my face, hot breath rushing over my throat, tongue swiping out to stroke along my jaw.
