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Indignation flashed from Angus’s eyes, followed by quick understanding as he hooded them to mask his reaction. “Stellar idea,” he said and took off at a brisk enough pace, the Morrigan had to trot to keep up.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Arianrhod said brightly to Rhukon. She swept her gaze over him and found a once leanly muscled frame, tending to fat in places. “Ye might want to cut down on those desserts.”
He faced her squarely and crossed his arms over his chest. “The Morrigan may be stupid enough to fall for your ploy, but I’m not. Ye can cut the small talk—and the barbed comments. What do ye want?”
She drew herself up to her full height, which rivaled his, and narrowed her eyes. “I want to know what’s in it for you.”
“What’s in what for me? The Morrigan holds power.” He licked his full lips in an unmistakable gesture. “And she isna bad in bed.”
Arianrhod shook her head. “I could’ve gone the next century without hearing that. Nay, ye traded something to someone to infuse your dragon shifter bond with dark magic. The thing I canna figure out is why.”
“Ye doona know any such thing. So long as we’re trading generalities, though, why ask such an obvious question? I thought ye were smarter than that. Dark magic offers so many more possibilities. If I were so inclined, which I’m not.”
“Like what?” she pressed.
“Why should I tell you aught else?” he replied sullenly.
She snared him with power and forced his gaze to meet hers. “Because I can offer absolution.” It was a huge lie, but he didn’t need to know that. About all she could offer was time without end moldering away in theDreaming.
He skinned his lips back, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Why would I want or needabsolution?” His dark eyes blazed with barely-leashed fury.
“Ye havena faced Ceridwen’s wrath. She might just upend you into that cauldron of hers.” Arianrhod kept the heat up to chivvy him into making a mistake. Rhukon was egotistical enough, he might let something slip if he got mad.
“Not verra bloody likely.”
“Ye dinna answer me about Lachlan.” Arianrhod focused compulsion in a stream that broke over Rhukon’s head.
He must’ve felt it because he blinked furiously and glared at her. His snarl widened. Magic bubbled around him as he instigated the shift back to Malik’s form. “Ye’ll never find him or that young buck dragon of his, either,” Malik shouted in a shower of flames that sent cinders to burn holes in her battle leathers.
She tried to rescind the transition and force Rhukon back to his body, but the dragon magic was too strong. She was still trying when the black dragon spread his wings and took to the skies, braying laughter.
“Stupid Celt,” was his parting shot.
“Fuck!” She stamped her foot, but it wasn’t enough to dissipate her anger, so she picked up a good-sized rock and chucked it as far as she could. She thought about following Rhukon back to his manor house, but recognized the futility in that approach. He knew where Lachlan was, though. He’d looked guilty as sin, even though he hadn’t actually admitted anything.
Likely that’s not good for Lachlan.
She glanced around for Angus and the Morrigan, but empty countryside—wet, verdant, and uninhabited—stretched as far as she could see. Jealousy sent a lance into her heart. Sure, the Morrigan looked like a slutty tavern wench, but Angus would be able to see through that, wouldn’t he?
What if she ensorcels him?
She could. Her magic is far stronger and more ancient than his.
Arianrhod wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled to her bones. She didn’t think he’d do anything stupid, but he was a man, and men thought with their cocks. It was a very old story.
Standing still didn’t dispel the nervous energy thrumming through her, so she took off at a long-legged pace without any destination in mind. She needed an opportunity by herself to think about the life that grew within her, and this would be as good as any other.
What the hell was she going to do?
The easiest course of action would be to deny the child a chance at life. After getting saddled with Dylan and Lleu—even though there was no way she could’ve avoided the magic behind their making—she should’ve taken precautions. She’d never bothered with her dragon lover because their disparate DNA couldn’t have produced viable offspring.
What was the problem this time?
The question was rhetorical. She knew exactly what the problem had been. She’d been so swept up in the heat that ignited between them, so drawn in by wanting Angus, the last thing on her mind was babies.
She splayed a hand across her abdomen, feeling protective toward the threads of life taking root inside her. She sifted her hands through her hair. This wasn’t a time to get maudlin. Even if she could get away with slipping out of sight long enough to carry the child and wean it, no way could she devote years to raising it.
Would Angus want to?
