Chapter 15 #2
By the end of my account, she wiped tears of hilarity from her cheeks. Despite the mental block I’d placed between us, her joy hummed along our shared thread, the sensation stoking my dragonflame.
Between the warmth in the room and my rowdy tale, a heady blush darkened her cheeks. Oil lamps flickered beneath the ceiling, setting her untamed curls aflame. Her forest-green eyes were far from ordinary, flashing like precious gems.
Her brow furrowed the longer I stared.
“What’s wrong?” She tucked a crimson curl behind her ear.
“Nothing is wrong.” My voice turned husky.
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“You're quite beautiful when you laugh.” At my compliment, her cheeks darkened.
“If you’re trying to seduce me, it won’t work.” The breathy tone in her voice said she’d lied.
I trailed a finger over the back of her hand, her skin delightfully soft. Goosebumps raised along her arm, and triumph sang in my veins. My heavy gaze fell to her plump lips. As though sensing the direction of my hungry stare, she licked her lip, leaving a delectable sheen behind that called to me.
Closer and our breaths mingled, hers sweet with honeyed ale. Closer again, and her stuttering exhale brushed my skin, the delightful scent of spiced apples filling my senses. Closer and her hooded gaze lowered to my mouth, urging me to—
“Excuse me, sir.” A firm hand landed on my shoulder.
My breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in my throat. I’d been so caught up in Serafina that I’d paid little attention to my surroundings. It was no minor mistake.
I stiffened, leaning back in my chair while Serafina shook her head, seeming to come out of a daze. She glanced up and paled.
Her reaction had me tensing, and I twisted to see who had dared to place their hands on me.
“What?” I snarled, causing the man to retreat a step.
He was an awkward and gangly fellow. Tall but soft in the middle, with limbs that hung too loose like a puppet without strings. He reminded me of an oily vulture, eyes glittering with anticipation, eager to tear into his prey.
When met with my glare, he hesitated—just long enough to reveal his uncertainty—before that smug superiority slithered back into place. His nostrils flared as he looked down his angular nose, wiry hairs twitching like antennae.
“Apologies for the interruption, sir. However, I must inform you that your dinner companion is, in fact, a runaway slave.”
I cast an arched brow at Serafina, noting the way she clutched the meat knife beside her plate. While her hand trembled, her eyes shot venom.
The dragon inside me writhed, scratching against my sternum. “Is she now?”
He drew himself up, a muscle twitching beneath his eye. “The woman who sits before you is the property of High Ruler Edmund Richwell from Nefarr. She escaped during the recent attack. As steward of Rottbarry Manor, it is my duty to collect this slave and return her to her rightful master.”
I leaned back, tapping a finger to my lip. “Steward, you say? That’s interesting. Last I heard, Rottbarry was a smoldering heap.”
The man reddened, sweat dotting his lip. “While I may have lost my home, I haven’t surrendered my title, nor the authority vested in me by High Ruler Richwell.”
“And where is this high ruler you speak of?” It wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of him if he truly wanted Serafina back.
“Away. Someplace safe.”
Ah. Not a threat then. Except for the way the steward kept eyeing Serafina. He’d soon realize he’d harassed the wrong woman. She may be a pain in my ass, but she was mine to antagonize. And dragons didn’t share.
“Isn’t that convenient. The official who gave you this authority is someplace. Rather vague, don’t you think?”
The vulture straightened. “Vague or otherwise, the fact remains, this slave belongs to the high ruler.”
“Sera, is this true?” I asked, confident of her answer.
She kept her eyes locked on the so-called steward. “I have no idea what he is talking about. However, he does bear a striking resemblance to a cowardly deviant who tried to murder me.”
My dragon rose with a growl and curled molten claws around my ribs. “Well, now. That is interesting.”
At this, the steward appeared to lose patience, the muscle beneath his eye twitching furiously. “Serafina. Enough of this. He waits for you. You must come with me. Now.”
With his snarled order, the man’s pupils overwhelmed the whites of his eyes, turning them wholly black. A trick of the light? Maybe demon possession?
The moment he reached for Serafina, my dragon flame exploded beneath my sternum, threatening to tear out of me. Razor-sharp teeth designed to maim and dismember erupted from my gums. Iron coated my tongue before I even realized I bit him.
His high-pitched scream rattled my sensitive eardrums. Needle-Prick stumbled back, blood gushing from his shredded arm.
One with my dragon, I surged forward and stood over him, snarling. “Do. Not. Touch. Her. Serafina isn’t yours.” She is mine, my inner beast snarled.
“He’ll kill you for this,” the steward screeched. “There’s no place you can hide. He’s coming, and when he arrives, you will all suffer.”
Despite my rage, I almost laughed. I’d witnessed firsthand the bravery of the Puritan’s mighty leader. Serafina had nothing to fear.
From behind me, Serafina appeared at my side. She glared down at the man. “Flark you, Mortis.” Her dainty foot reared back and slammed into the coward’s genitals.
Mortis let out a howl that had many patrons clapping their hands over their ears.
The thought of Serafina being at the bastard’s mercy had me drawing a deep breath. My chest warmed, flames rising in my throat.
Slim fingers pressed against my mouth, their spicy fragrance tempting me to nip them. “Thorne, you can’t. Not like this,” she warned in a low voice. “There are laws against murder. We can’t afford that kind of attention.”
Her gentle curves pressed against my harder angles. The soft timber of her words was a cool dip into a soothing spring. I glanced away from Mortis to discover every eye in the tavern watching us.
I faced the crowd and held up my hands. “Bastard fondled my wife. Can’t blame a man for defending his girl.”
Those curious stares turned into glares of persecution. Just like that, Mortis was tried, judged, and sentenced by the inebriated bar thugs. The toughest assembly in the land.
“Pervert,” a voice shouted.
“Yeah,” said another. “We don’t need his kind here, molesting our women.”
Chairs scraped, mugs slammed down on tables.
Angry voices rose around us. Those closest tossed a couple of well-aimed kicks the steward’s way. One hocked a wad of spit at the simpering man.
Surrounded by the enraged crowd, Mortis dragged his slimy carcass off the floor. Once on his feet, he scrambled for the door, holding his crotch. “You will pay for this insult.” He cast a wild-eyed glance at the room. “All of you. When he comes, you will pay.”
Once the door closed behind the sniveling bastard, the patrons dispersed, returning to their libations.
I glanced back at Serafina to find her peering up at me, one eyebrow arched. “Your wife, huh?”
“That’s right, darling. I’m sure this horrible incident has exhausted you. You always did have a delicate constitution. Let us retire to our chambers.”
I swept a startled Serafina into my arms, hauling her up the stairs. Cheering and hoots followed us from the room.