Last Dragon Standing
Page 37

“And can be bor- ing,” Vigholf sang under his breath.
“This has nothing to do with her virginity or lack thereof,” Ragnar snapped.
“Then what is it? What is it about her that bothers you so much?” Appearing more and more frustrated, Ragnar came out with, “What she could be getting herself involved in could be dangerous, and she’s not bright enough to see that.”
Meinhard shrugged. “Seems bright enough to me.” Ragnar cleared his throat, and Meinhard and Vigholf again looked at each other.
“Oh, I see,” Meinhard reasoned. “She’s not as smart as you.”
“That is not what I’m—”
“Or your precious Lady Dagmar,” Vigholf added.
“We’re not talking about her either.”
“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Meinhard finally asked his cousin.
“Get what over with?” And the bastard had the nerve to look confused.
“Instead of accusing her of all manner of horse shit I’m not sure even you believe—just f**k her.”
Ragnar took a step back. “Pardon?”
“Fuck. Her. Fuck her like you’ve been in Uncle Adalwolf’s dungeons for the last century. Fuck her until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can no longer walk. Fuck her and get it over with so we can get past this ox shit, dump these royals off, and get back to the Northlands where we belong.”
“And that’s your answer for how to handle this?”
“Handle what, cousin? Other than your overwhelming desire to f**k this female and that ungodsly itch you’ve got going on with your chest, I don’t see anything else to handle.”
“Well, cousin, thank you for that evaluation but I have no desire to—”
“What?” Vigholf cut in. “You have no desire to what? Fuck her?
Because we all know you’re bloody gagging for it.”
“I am not!”
“You are such a liar. Does Mum know what a bloody liar you are?”
“And let’s face it, cousin, we all want to f**k her.” And of the three of them, only Ragnar’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Meinhard’s words. Yes.
Definitely possessive.
“Oh, really?” Ragnar asked.
“Whether it’s that human ass or that She-dragon tail, I’m drawn in.
Both look delicious.”
“And who wouldn’t want both?” Vigholf suggested.
“Exactly. But see,” Meinhard continued, “we’re not the ones gettin’ in your way. You’re gettin’ in your way. You’re bloody over-thinking it.”
“Like you do with everything,” Vigholf agreed.
Ragnar’s jaw clenched. “I do not over-think anything.”
“You do, you are, and you’re letting her get away,” Meinhard argued.
“And you’re that sure she just has to have me?” When the cousins went out of their way not to look at each other, Ragnar quickly pointed a talon. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’re telling you,” Vigholf bit out between clenched fangs, “that if you want her, you can get her.”
“And how would you know that? And don’t lie to me.”
“The Blue was a little concerned about, uh…what were those words he used, Meinhard?”
“Uh…inter-territorial relations. I think.”
“What about them?”
“He didn’t want his sister damaging them.”
“And how would she do that?”
“Well, the lad says there may be a little”—Meinhard raised his front claw, wiggled his talons—“wager going on between the princess and that foreign friend of hers.”
“Apparently that’s something the two of them do when they’re bored,” Vigholf said.
“Wager? What kind of wager?”
“To see whether she could get you into bed or not,” Meinhard answered.
Vigholf shook his head at the expression on his brother’s face. “And look at ya. Pissed off. Over this.”
“Of course, I’m pissed off over this!”
“Why?” Meinhard asked. “You’ve got yourself a She-dragon of royal blood, laid out on a slab for you to f**k, and you’re pissed? Is there something wrong with you?”
“They’re wagering on my cock!” Ragnar exploded, front claws going high in the air as if he didn’t understand his kin at all. And he didn’t. As they didn’t understand him. Not when it came to this sort of thing.
“So? I’d let that dragoness wager on my c**k daily.”
“If it were me,” Vigholf said, three talons clicking together to drive home his point, “I’d let her win that wager. I’d let her win it over and over and over again. Until neither of us could move or possibly breathe. That’s what I’d do.”
“Because you’re both bloody worthless! ” Ragnar roared and marched off into the trees.
Meinhard glanced at Vigholf and asked, “Did he just yell at us?”
“I think he did. Several times.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell about anything.”
“Good point.” Meinhard scratched his head. “But still, the loss of all those tightly controlled emotions…”
“It’s like I said.” And Vigholf yelled the rest at Ragnar’s retreating tail, “He’s bloody gagging for it!”