Fury of a Highland Dragon by Coreene Callahan

disappoint Tydrin. Particularly after he’d been so good to her—keeping her safe, letting her stay, loving her so well she still tingled in interesting places. But honestly—his family? Really? Ivy shivered and tightened her grip on his hand as personal history highlighted her nasty habit of bungling social situations.
    “Umm, Tydrin?”
    “Simmer down, luv.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. Untangling his hand from hers, he cupped her shoulders and started massaging. Tense muscles sighed in relief. Ivy swallowed a moan. God, she loved it when he touched her. It didn’t matter how—or even why—but every time he got close she reacted the same way. With pleasure and all out acceptance, as though nothing better existed in the world. “It’s going tae be fine.”
    “Define fine, because you know…” His fingers pressed down, hitting some magical spot, releasing more tension. After a second—or twenty—of complete bliss, she rebooted her brain, forcing it back on line. “Look, I know I’m being a wuss about this, but—”
    “You are not.”
    “It doesn’t feel all that fine to me,” she said, finding his indignant tone endearing even as she ignored the interruption.
    “You’re nervous. Nothing wrong with that, Ivy, but donnae let it get the better of you. My brothers-in-arms arnae going tae—”
    A door slammed across the room.
    The bang echoed before dissipating beneath the dome.
    “Ah, good. Perfect timing.” The low, gravel-filled voice killed the quiet, raising the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Ivy went rigid beneath Tydrin’s hands. Holy crap. Not good. She wasn’t ready yet, and whoever stood at her back sounded scary. Like a maniac psycho killer, not fine at all by her standards. “Bring her over here, Tydrin. I need a closer look.”
    “Shite, Wallaig.” Tydrin scowled at someone over the top of her head. “Have you no manners?”
    “None I can find at the moment.”
    Tydrin sighed, the sound full of resignation. “You’re a complete wanker.”
    The guy snorted. “Stop stalling, laddie. Get over here. Let’s have a look at her.”
    Frozen in place, Ivy didn’t turn around. She stared at Tydrin instead, refusing to acknowledge the man across the room. Wallaig, the grouchy sounding guy, could wait. She wanted her, ah…she frowned. What in God’s name should she call Tydrin—her boyfriend, her lover, the man aiding and abetting her? She exhaled in a rush. All right. A big fat no to that last option. As far as titles went, it sucked. Was way too long as well. Nowhere near fun to explain to his pack either. Besides, boyfriend made her go all warm and fuzzy inside, ringing truer than anything else in a very long time.
    Hands sliding down to her waist, Tydrin tipped his chin. “Ready?”
    “Good to go,” she said, lying through her teeth.
    Approval sparked in his eyes. “There’s my lass.”
    Giving her no chance to rethink her answer, he spun her around. Wood paneling whirled past. The walls blurred. Her shoe laces tangled, making her trip over her own feet. Ivy grunted. Wonderful. Just what she didn’t need—his help making a terrible first impression. Tydrin stopped the tilt-a-whirl. The room righted. As she regained her balance, her gaze landed on Wallaig. Surprise thumped on her. Her eyes widened and…holy hugeness, batman. The guy was a ginger-haired giant, a tall, muscular, lethal looking nightmare. One that screamed “come closer, my pretty, so I can kill you.” Tydrin walked her forward, toward the guy doing a fantastic impression of a serial killer.
    Her feet slowed to a crawl. She squeezed his forearm to get his attention.
    “Donnae let the size of him fool you, lovely.” Back in tow-her-behind-him mode, Tydrin pulled her around the end of a couch. “He wouldnae hurt a fly, never mind a female.”
    Wallaig scowled. “Yer such a brat…ruining my fun.”
    “Since when do you have fun?”
    “Every time I beat the snot out of you.”
    Tydrin