“His affection for the human grew steadily by the day. Sometimes by the minute. And it wasn’t simply her beauty, but her utter lack of fear of everything and anything except her brother. She didn’t fear dying. She didn’t fear battle. And, most importantly, she didn’t fear Fearghus. She touched him. Ran her hands across his scales and through his mane.But it was when he covered her up with the fur and she sighed his name in her sleep, that he lost his heart.”

“She heard Brannie call out to her, but she ignored her as well and kept going. Kept going with visions of a bloody and limb-missing Éibhear dancing through her head. Gods! What if they cut off his wings? Or removed his scales? Oh, by the gods, what if they shaved his head? What if they shaved his head? Nooooo!”

“Fighting her smile, his sister reached over and ran her hand through his hair. “That, my sweet brother, is called heartbreak.”He glanced down at his chest. “Will that be a physical deformity?”

“A small fireball hit him in the face. He again looked at his sister, smoke still curling out from her human nostrils. "What brat?""I said she'll want to return to her men as soon as she can.""I know." His sister smiled up at him. "And will you be ready for that, idiot?""It's Lord Idiot to you." Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. "And yes, brat. I will be.”

“So, Lord Dragon, what are your plans for this evening?" He adjusted his body awkwardly and the end of his dealy tail landed gently in her lap."Well, I thought we could do that thing again.""That thing?" Annwyl desperately fought a smile as she ran her hand across the scaled tip. Its very edge shaped like an arrowhead and as sharp. She briefly wondered if teh dragon ever needed to sharpen it with a stone. "Do youmean talking?""Yes. Yes. Whatever it is.”

“It was those damn wool socks. He didn’t realize he loved her until she told him about out-negotiating a god of war—the most haggle-loving of the gods—with socks!”

“Fearghus entered what he now considered her chamber, but immediately ducked the book flung at his head. Clearly she’d been waiting for him. And she was not happy.“He’s the one supposed to be helping me,” she roared at him.“Did you just throw a book at me? In my own den?”“Yes. And I’d throw it again!”Fearghus scratched his head in confusion. He’d never met a human brave enough—or stupid enough, depending on your point of view—to challenge him. “But,” he croaked out, amazed, “I’m a dragon.”“And I have tits. It means nothing to me!”