Read Online To Love a Highland Dragon by Ann Gimpel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ann Gimpel
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the dragon’s scaled body and gazed through his whirling green eyes.
With his wings stretched to their full span, nearly touching the sides of the cave, Kheladin trumpeted a challenge. Smoke and fire belched from his mouth. Lachlan reveled in the dragon’s strength. The first time he’d experienced Kheladin’s latent power, Lachlan got so drunk on it he hadn’t slept for days.
“Look sharp,” the dragon hissed. “Something comes. I need you present, not daydreaming.”
Lachlan stretched his senses through the dragon’s. Indeed, a subliminal thrumming set his nerves on edge. Without access to Kheladin’s preternatural senses, he’d never have sorted it out from stray magical impulses pinging through the ether.
He pushed farther, extending himself to the ragged edges of his ability, amplified by Kheladin’s. Someone with great power drew near, yet the power didn’t have a corrupt feel about it. A gout of dragon fire scored the far wall of the cave, lighting it bright as day.
“Hold.” Lachlan made his voice stern. Kheladin ignored him. The next spray of flames shot high into the air. “Damn ye! Hold. It may not be a foe. We willna know, if ye toast them to cinders afore they set foot on the floor of our cave.”
“What I felt in the lass’s hovel held deep evil. Ye were scarcely subtle getting us here. Your casting left a trail a league wide for them to come after us.”
Lachlan winced at the unpleasant truth. Once upon a time, he’d been a better magician than that—one of the strongest in all of England, Scotland, and the Gaelic kingdoms. He’d regain his ability, but mayhap not quickly enough to save them from ruin. He picked his words with care to secure the dragon’s cooperation. “Aye. I sensed the evil as well. Yet what I feel here is different. If ye’d stop tossing fire about like a lamplighter gone mad, ye could test it for yourself.”
Kheladin grunted. He lifted his great snout and snuffled loudly. Lachlan held his breath, waiting. Rather than speaking internally, the dragon called, “Show yourself. Now. Or I shall burn you to ashes.”
Lachlan grimaced. Not the most attractive greeting, but it should do the job. If whoever lurked wasn’t their enemy, they should come forth.He had to admit to curiosity. Surely other magic-wielders besides witches had survived through the years he and the dragon slumbered.
“Och aye, and ye’ve finally come to your senses.” The voice was whispery. It echoed at the bare edges of Lachlan’s dragon-enhanced hearing.
“Mayhap aye. Mayhap nay.” Kheladin breathed out steam. “Show yourself. Ye are still…elsewhere.”
A spot in the ether near the pool brightened, pulsated, and flashed so brilliantly, spots danced in Lachlan’s vision. When the brilliance fell away, a tall, slender figure clothed in black robes stood stock still. Dark hair fell to his waist. Sharp, dark eyes narrowed. “Ye are the last dragon,” he announced without preamble. “Gwydion and I hunted you for long years. Ye must have lain hidden behind an enchantment.”
“I canna be the last,” Kheladin announced with surprising dignity. “There were many when my bond mate and I were ensorcelled. Even unbonded dragons are close to immortal, so there must be others.” The dragon inhaled noisily and blew out steam. “If ye couldna locate us, mayhap ye simply canna locate the others, either.” He crossed scaled forearms over his chest.
Recognition hit Lachlan between the eyes. “’Tis Arawn,” he told the dragon. “God of the dead. I would converse with him.” Lachlan reached for ascendency; the dragon fought him.
“Ye can speak through me,” Kheladin snapped.
“Not easily. First, I must send the thought to you, and then ye must give voice to it. ’Tis far easier for ye to speak through me when our positions are reversed. Please.” Lachlan heard groveling in his tone but didn’t care.
“We are stronger in my body,” the dragon insisted.
“Of course we
With his wings stretched to their full span, nearly touching the sides of the cave, Kheladin trumpeted a challenge. Smoke and fire belched from his mouth. Lachlan reveled in the dragon’s strength. The first time he’d experienced Kheladin’s latent power, Lachlan got so drunk on it he hadn’t slept for days.
“Look sharp,” the dragon hissed. “Something comes. I need you present, not daydreaming.”
Lachlan stretched his senses through the dragon’s. Indeed, a subliminal thrumming set his nerves on edge. Without access to Kheladin’s preternatural senses, he’d never have sorted it out from stray magical impulses pinging through the ether.
He pushed farther, extending himself to the ragged edges of his ability, amplified by Kheladin’s. Someone with great power drew near, yet the power didn’t have a corrupt feel about it. A gout of dragon fire scored the far wall of the cave, lighting it bright as day.
“Hold.” Lachlan made his voice stern. Kheladin ignored him. The next spray of flames shot high into the air. “Damn ye! Hold. It may not be a foe. We willna know, if ye toast them to cinders afore they set foot on the floor of our cave.”
“What I felt in the lass’s hovel held deep evil. Ye were scarcely subtle getting us here. Your casting left a trail a league wide for them to come after us.”
Lachlan winced at the unpleasant truth. Once upon a time, he’d been a better magician than that—one of the strongest in all of England, Scotland, and the Gaelic kingdoms. He’d regain his ability, but mayhap not quickly enough to save them from ruin. He picked his words with care to secure the dragon’s cooperation. “Aye. I sensed the evil as well. Yet what I feel here is different. If ye’d stop tossing fire about like a lamplighter gone mad, ye could test it for yourself.”
Kheladin grunted. He lifted his great snout and snuffled loudly. Lachlan held his breath, waiting. Rather than speaking internally, the dragon called, “Show yourself. Now. Or I shall burn you to ashes.”
Lachlan grimaced. Not the most attractive greeting, but it should do the job. If whoever lurked wasn’t their enemy, they should come forth.He had to admit to curiosity. Surely other magic-wielders besides witches had survived through the years he and the dragon slumbered.
“Och aye, and ye’ve finally come to your senses.” The voice was whispery. It echoed at the bare edges of Lachlan’s dragon-enhanced hearing.
“Mayhap aye. Mayhap nay.” Kheladin breathed out steam. “Show yourself. Ye are still…elsewhere.”
A spot in the ether near the pool brightened, pulsated, and flashed so brilliantly, spots danced in Lachlan’s vision. When the brilliance fell away, a tall, slender figure clothed in black robes stood stock still. Dark hair fell to his waist. Sharp, dark eyes narrowed. “Ye are the last dragon,” he announced without preamble. “Gwydion and I hunted you for long years. Ye must have lain hidden behind an enchantment.”
“I canna be the last,” Kheladin announced with surprising dignity. “There were many when my bond mate and I were ensorcelled. Even unbonded dragons are close to immortal, so there must be others.” The dragon inhaled noisily and blew out steam. “If ye couldna locate us, mayhap ye simply canna locate the others, either.” He crossed scaled forearms over his chest.
Recognition hit Lachlan between the eyes. “’Tis Arawn,” he told the dragon. “God of the dead. I would converse with him.” Lachlan reached for ascendency; the dragon fought him.
“Ye can speak through me,” Kheladin snapped.
“Not easily. First, I must send the thought to you, and then ye must give voice to it. ’Tis far easier for ye to speak through me when our positions are reversed. Please.” Lachlan heard groveling in his tone but didn’t care.
“We are stronger in my body,” the dragon insisted.
“Of course we
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