Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
ALBIE
Portia sat across from me at the Great Hall’s long oak table. She gripped her chair’s armrests as she gazed at the beamed ceiling and woven tapestries with obvious interest. Tavish had disappeared to the kitchen thirty minutes ago, leaving me to study our mate while she studied our castle.
I wasn’t complaining. Even in her strange clothes, she was the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. Her black hair was like a midnight river, the strands throwing off glints of deep purple every time she moved. And the gods hadn’t stopped there when they created her.
No, they’d given her eyes like the rarest emeralds, breasts that snagged my attention over and over, and a face that belonged in the Italian museums Tavish and I had visited.
She pulled her gaze from a tapestry and caught me staring.
A gentleman would have looked away. But my manners deserted me in the face of her beauty.
“You believe me?” she asked.
“Aye,” I said without hesitation.
“Why?”
I leaned my arms on the table. “You’re not the first to have traveled through time, lass. I’ve read accounts dating back centuries. The auld stones are portals. That’s ancient, dangerous magic, and the kind best left alone. Most people who pass through them don’t survive the journey.”
She paled.
“Albie is a scholar,” Tavish said, entering the Hall with three plates balanced in his arms. One was tucked in the crook of his elbow, a feat he accomplished by being as big as a horse. He set a plate heaped with diced potatoes, herbs, and a golden omelet in front of me.
I smiled up at him. “Thank you, love.”
He grunted as he slid a plate in front of Portia. “Eat while it’s hot,” he told her.
Her stomach growled, and I turned my smile back to her. “Tavish is an excellent chef.”
He crossed to the sideboard and poured water from the pitcher into three of the crystal glasses I’d brought back from France. “Have to be around here,” he said under his breath.
I caught Portia’s eye. “He means I’m terrible at cooking.”
Tavish delivered the water, then winked at me as he sat at the head of the table. “Don’t fash yourself, darling. You’re plenty good at other things.”
My cheeks heated. Snatching my fork from the table, I dug into my omelet. But I couldn’t ignore the ache building in my groin. Gods, I was hard as stone just sitting near Portia.
Princess Portia, I mentally corrected. The gods hadn’t just blessed Tavish and me with a stunning female. They’d given us royalty. The daughter of our king.
Who was finally free of the fire. In the future, of course. And our females were free of the Curse.
Curiosity swarmed me, a thousand questions buzzing like bees in my head.
Tavish shoveled food in his mouth, seemingly in no hurry to delve into the revelations Portia had dumped in our laps.
She was far daintier than Tavish as she picked up her fork and took a moment to examine the silver before cutting into her eggs.
I bit my tongue, staving off my questions until she’d had a chance to eat. She took a tentative bite, then widened her eyes as she released a soft moan.
My dick tightened.
Portia swallowed. “This is amazing.”
Tavish paused long enough to say, “‘Course it is. I made it.”
I bit back a smile. He’d never been modest about his skill in the kitchen. But he wasn’t wrong. My mate could make a feast out of scraps.
I turned to my own food, and I held off my curiosity for another ten minutes while the three of us ate. The second Portia put down her fork, I leaned forward.
“Tell us about Cormac,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. “Tell us everything, lass.”
Her expression turned serious as she glanced at Tavish, who eyed her over the rim of his water goblet.
“I don’t know where to start,” Portia said.
Tavish set down his goblet. “You said the Curse has been broken.”
She nodded. “It was created by a witch named Mullo Balfour.”
Tavish and I both stiffened. Ice slid through my veins, shock rushing behind it.
“Mullo?” I rasped, instantly recognizing the name. Everyone knew the powerful head of House Balfour, who possessed all of the ordinary elements and all but one of the arcane. “Grandsire to—”
“My father,” Portia said. “Niall and everyone else believed my great-grandsire only controlled six of the seven elements.”
“Aye,” I said, “he’s missing blood.”
Portia shook her head. “No, he acquired it at some point, and he used it to engineer a disease that killed every female dragon. My mother would have died, too, but a Razroth demon physician stole her shortly after her birth and raised her as his own so he could siphon her blood. My father found her and saved her. Then they saved my dad, and the three of them killed Mullo.”
I leaned back in my chair as I absorbed everything. “And Mullo’s curse died with him.”
“That’s right,” Portia said, surprise flaring in her gaze. “How did you know that?
Tavish raked an admiring look over me before answering. “Albie knows more about witches than anyone.”
Heat kissed my cheeks again, and I adjusted my spectacles. “I’m not sure about that—”
“I am,” Tavish said. He gestured to Portia’s plate, which still held a few bites of omelet. “Are you going to eat that?”
“No, I’m full. It was wonderful, though.”
He reached a long arm over, snagged her plate, and dumped the omelet onto his own. “Shame to waste it,” he said, stabbing the leftover eggs onto his fork and stuffing them into his mouth all at once.
I looked at Portia, who stared at Tavish like someone might observe a wild animal that had wandered into their house. “What of our females?” I asked. “You said the monarchy is restored. I assume the same is true of our women?”
She bit her lip, and something that might have been shame flitted through her eyes. “No. I’m, uh, the only female born since Mullo died. That’s why my fathers want me to marry and have children.”
“Agreed,” Tavish said, pushing away his empty plate and locking his gaze on Portia. “We should start as soon as possible.”
She glared at him. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? The Curse is broken, but our population problem remains. I’m the only full-blooded female dragon in the world.”
Tavish took a long drink of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And you’re here now. We could solve the population problem quite easily.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” Portia said flatly.
“Are you afraid?” He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “Tell me, lass. Are you untouched?”
Her face went scarlet. “Excuse me?”
“Are you a maid?”
She made a choking sound.
“A virgin,” Tavish clarified. “A woman who’s never known a man.”
“Oh, my gods,” she said, her voice rising. “I know what a virgin is. And for the record, a woman doesn’t need to have sex with a man to—”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “Are you a virgin?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting her to turn the question on him. Then he scoffed. “Of course not.”
“Congratulations,” she snapped. “My sex life is none of your business. But no, I’m not a maid.”
Possessiveness flashed in his eyes. He stood slowly, planting his palms on the table as he leaned toward her. “Good. Then you know what to expect.” His voice dropped to a growl. “But I’ll tell you this, lass—you’ll never touch another. Not now. Not ever. Those days are behind you.”
Her mouth fell open. “You arrogant—”
“You’re ours now,” he said, resuming his seat with a satisfied look on his face.
I drummed my fingers on the table, my mind racing.
Mullo Balfour had hated dragons since a pair of my countrymen kidnapped his daughter.
The union had ended happily enough, producing Niall Balfour, a powerful water witch halfling.
Furious at seeing his daughter wed to two dragons, Mullo had tracked her down and killed her.
He’d done it in cold blood, knowing that taking her life would cause her mates to die of sorrow.
Enraged at Mullo’s actions, Cormac had stormed Mullo’s castle and slaughtered Mullo’s son and heir.
He’d also taken Niall as his mate, twisting the knife of revenge deeper in Mullo’s gut by ensuring Mullo’s sole descendant was Niall, a dragon halfling.
So Mullo had struck back with the ultimate revenge: the Curse.
By killing every female dragon, he’d ensured our species would die out—and that Cormac and Niall would watch it happen even as they were powerless to stop it.
It was masterful strategy. Evil and twisted, but masterful.
“…the most disgusting creature I’ve ever met,” Portia was saying.
“I highly doubt that,” Tavish replied, sarcasm heavy in his tone. He pushed a length of black hair over his shoulder. When Portia tracked the movement, a wicked smile curved his lips.
“Don’t smile at me!” she snarled.
“Hard not to when you fancy me like you do.”
Their bickering invaded my thoughts, and I turned to Portia. “We always assumed the vampires were the ones behind the Curse.”
She stopped mid-insult. “Aye. My father thought the same, but he was wrong. We’re still working to repair our strained relationships with the Blooded Princes.”
Tavish huffed. “Best of luck with that. The only good leech is a dead leech.”
She cut him a dark look. “Calling them leeches is unlikely to help.”
“Good,” he said bluntly. “I’m not interested in helping leeches.”
She crossed her arms. “Yet another reason we can’t possibly be mates.”
He rested his hands on the arms of his chair, his big body the picture of nonchalance. The Pictish tattoos he’d earned fighting battles centuries before I was born gleamed on his skin. “Why all this resistance, lass?” He nodded to himself. “I was right the first time. You are afraid.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then what?”
“I need to get home.” She gripped the edge of the table like she might push away from it and flee “I can’t stay in this time. I won’t stay here.”
Tavish eyed her grip on the table, and his dragon appeared briefly in his eyes. “Seems like you don’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice—”