His hands tightened in her hair, holding her head still as his c**k moved in and out of her mouth as he neared release. Finally, he pushed into her one last time. She nearly gagged as his seed filled her mouth, bursting into the back of her throat. But she swallowed it and sucked until he pulled away from her and dropped down on the bed.

Feeling smug, she licked her lips again and watched him panting, a light sheen of sweat over his body.

Now he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Now he’d rip these chains off her and f**k her until they both passed out.

That’s what she waited for. And she kept waiting.

Eventually, Bercelak gave one big satisfied sigh, then leaned back against the bed, his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. The legs currently resting by her head.

He looked up at the ceiling. “So which would you prefer, Rhiannon? A male hatchling first? Or a female?”

Her eyes widened in annoyance. “Wha-what?”

“For our first. Male or female? I like the idea of a female. I’ve always wanted a daughter.” He smiled at her and it was the warmest smile anyone had ever given her. “I want her to look like you.” Then his eyes returned to the ceiling as if he could see their entire future—their entire future together—playing out above their heads. “But a male offspring would also be nice, too, don’t you think? He could take care of his younger siblings. Now I don’t think we have to have as many as my parents. Fifteen is excessive, but . . . definitely more than two or three, don’t you think?”

Unable to look at him anymore without screaming, Rhiannon stared out the window and debated the logic of flinging herself from the ledge . . . after he released her, of course.

With a pathetic roll of her eyes, Rhiannon sighed but it came out more like a sob.

Chapter 7

He finally released her arms and legs, and allowed her enough chain to get to the chamber pot and the bath. Other than that, he kept her tied to the bed for the remainder of the day and well into the night.

Rhiannon really wished she could say she hated him. Hating him would make this so easy. She would promise him whatever he asked, wait until he untied her, and then she’d cut his currently human throat with a jagged piece of glass . . . or simply rip his throat out with her teeth. Whatever was convenient.

But she didn’t hate him. And she hated herself for not hating him.

Pathetic female.

She yanked her chain again. When Bercelak decided to leave her alone for a bit, he quickly realized that the headboard wouldn’t last two seconds against her strength and rage. So he wrapped the chain around a pillar and locked it. With an annoyingly happy smile, he kissed her on the cheek with promises of returning and walked out.

That had been nearly an hour ago and he still had not returned.

A soft knock at the door had her grabbing an animal fur from the floor and wrapping it around her body since these human servants reacted so dramatically to any kind of nakedness. Why they would react that way over their own bodies with someone they didn’t lust for, she had no idea.

“Come.” Might as well since clearly she wouldn’t be for quite awhile.

The door pushed open and Ghleanna and Shalin walked in. Gleanna held a tray of food, the smell bringing Rhiannon’s stomach to growling life, and her mother followed with a goblet and decanter.

Rhiannon prayed that was wine she had with her, because she needed to numb her brain before she began destroying things around her for her own amusement.

“We thought you might be hungry.”

“I’d like the key even more.”

The two females looked at each other but, not surprisingly, it was Ghleanna who spoke, “You’ve lost your mind, Princess, if you think we’re about to get between you and my brother on this.”

“Fine!”

She turned, the chain winding around her throat, and stalked back across the room.

“Now, now,” Bercelak’s mother soothed. “No need to get angry. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“Your son is unreasonable.”

“My son is in love.”

At Shalin’s words, Rhiannon spun around, but the chain pulled tight around her throat, snapping her head back.

“Ack!”

Bercelak watched one of his younger brothers pass out and drop to the floor. All that wine . . . he should have known better. His father’s wine could kill an elephant.

His father’s hand slapped him on the back. Anyone else, even dragon, would go flying. But all of Ailean’s children learned to have sturdy backs and good balance.

“Don’t worry, son. You’ll break her.”

Rolling his eyes, “I don’t want to break her. If I wanted that, I’d have chosen one of those insipid royals.”

“But you didn’t choose her,” his brother Caerwyn felt the need to say.

“Her mother may have thrown her to me, but I’d chosen Rhiannon long ago. Everything I’ve done, every battle I’ve won, every rank I’ve earned has been for her. To be worthy of her.”

“You are worthy of her.” His father sat down in a chair, putting his feet up on the table. “You’re my son.”

“Oh, yes. That’s been quite helpful.”

His brothers and two of his hard-drinking sisters laughed in agreement, but his father looked at his brood in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t know. Your name follows us around like the stink on a dog.”