21. Riggs #2
Riggs sighed, staring at the blades he had used countless times—heartbroken to see they were just retired steels his father liked to show off. “Killian made sure I knew how to defend myself after…his wife was murdered.”
Esemeray’s eyes fell to the floor. “That is terrible.”
Riggs admitted, “We still don’t know who did it.
” Layalara had been like a sister to him.
Still, the thought of Layalara’s fate had his gut hollowing.
Once Killian found his wife’s killer, Riggs could only imagine the wrath he’d inflict.
It was rare anyone interfered with the Whitlocks, but no one dared fuck with Killian.
Not after Killian beat a man to death—the patched hole in Brodie’s wall was reminder enough.
No outsider had uttered Layalara’s name since.
Esemeray turned toward Riggs, her eyes heavy with sorrow. “I am so sorry.”
He nodded, needing to change the subject, in case Killian was lurking around the corner. “So…”
Esemeray’s cheeks turned a shade of pink. “So…”
“I like your hair,” Riggs said, fighting his grin. “It’s long.”
“My hair?” Esemeray flushed, fingers running through her ends. “Thank you.”
“Can I…” Riggs reached his hand out, heart kicking hard against his ribs. “Touch it?”
Esemeray took a step closer, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. “I suppose.”
With trembling hands, he found his way through her strands, his fingertips brushing silk. Just how he had imagined. “It’s soft.” Riggs' voice was smooth. “It feels like your kitten fur.”
She chuckled, blushing.
Riggs slid further behind her neck, gently fisting a handful of her hair. “And thick.”
Esemeray gasped, her lips tilting.
She likes this.
Riggs' eyes fell to her lips, his tongue aching to taste her. He leaned down, his mind screaming at him, yet his lips were begging for her mouth. Conflicted, he huffed a breath, savoring the feel of her hair instead.
“You seem to like my hair.” Esemeray stared at him with doe eyes.
“I do.” He forced himself to be a gentleman, releasing his hold and staggering two steps back. He cleared his throat, reminding himself she was a princess and should be treated as such.
Riggs flicked his gaze along her reddened, sweaty skin. “Thirsty?”
“Parched,” Esemeray murmured.
They stared at each other for a moment longer. She looked like she might say something with that playful glint in her eyes, but her silence stirred Riggs' mind to wicked fantasies.
He cleared his thoughts, reminding himself once more. She’s a princess. He motioned toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”
They walked into the kitchen and hydrated. As he sipped his water, he spotted his father and Killian sparring in the ring outside. “It looks like they are practicing with the newest and latest.”
Esemeray whirled toward the window, eyes wide. “They fight each other like that?”
“They are testing out the swords.” Riggs leaned against the counter. “It’s a better view outside, want to watch?” He didn’t want to just watch. He needed to spar to alleviate his arousal. He knew the wine had a part, and the Valerian Root he had smoked earlier, but damn him, he was losing control.
Esemeray gulped. “Sure.”
Steel clashed loudly as they approached the sparring ring outside. Killian and his father had their shirts off, sweat glistening under the golden sun. Dust kicked up from the sharp movements of his father. He moved swiftly, swinging his sword high and blocking every single one of Killian’s blows.
Riggs wanted to try out the new sword his father had finished forging. Maybe Killian will be up for another round.
Rhidian bellowed, “Good, Killian! Again.”
Killian swung high, twisting around and swiping low. His father parried, dodging his strike. Rhidian laughed, charging at Killian fiercely. Their swords met, sparking on impact.
“Ease up, old man!” Killian shouted, leaping backward.
“You wanted to blow off some steam? Well, here I am!” Rhidian jumped back, swinging his sword upward, driving it down without pause. Killian rolled, blocking his hit.
“They look like they are going to kill each other,” Esemeray said, chewing on her nails.
“This is just a normal Tuesday around here.”
Esemeray slowly tore her gaze from the ring. “Every Tuesday?”
He nudged Esemeray, grinning. “You should see us on Friday nights.”
Her throat bobbed. “I’m not sure if I want to find out.”
Riggs tore off his shirt, the sun warming his skin as he walked toward the weapon table.
As always, Riggs reached for his favorite.
Gripping the blue hilt of the claymore, he felt the flawless weight of the sword.
“This one will do.” He spun it around, tilting the tip toward the ground, admiring the blade.
He turned toward Esemeray, who was gawking at his chest wide-eyed.
Riggs smirked. “Careful, you got a little drool there.” He grazed his thumb along her chin, brushing her bottom lip, the part of her he wanted to suck between his teeth.
Princess. She’s the princess.
She playfully smacked his hand and glared into his eyes. “Funny.”
He chuckled, pulling a wooden chair out and placing it in the shade. “I want to test this sword out for a bit. It won’t be long.” He motioned to the chair. “You drank far too much wine to be standing in the sun.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Please.” Riggs blew out a breath. “I’d feel better knowing you haven’t tipped over.” That was an understatement. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
“If you insist.” Esemeray sank into the chair, crossing her legs. The hem of her tunic inched high, exposing her. His curious gaze traveled up her leg, to her thighs?—
Fuck.
“Here.” With his free hand, his fingers curled into the fabric, knuckles grazing her hip as he pulled the tunic down. “Hold that down.” He flicked his gaze to hers. “I’ll get you something else to wear in a bit.”
She nodded, obeying.
Their hands brushed, and his eyes roamed down her body again. His cock twitched. “Princess, I must go.” Any longer in her presence, and he may need to find a release.
“Go.” Her voice was a gentle whisper.
He strode fast into the sparring ring, approaching his father and Killian, who stopped and gawked at him with confidence.
Killian panted. “What do you think you’re doing, Riggs? Go back to playing house.”
Blood rushed to Riggs' face. Dick.
“Let him join.” Rhidian turned toward Killian. “What do you say? Me against the two of you?” He laughed, dropping into a fighting stance.
Crazy fucker. His father always had so much energy. Riggs knew where he got it from. Good, he needed this.
Riggs jumped in, circling his opponent.
Killian shook his head and held his sword upward. “Whatever you say, old man, you’re going to get your ass kicked.”
Rhidian smiled, showing all his teeth. “C’mon, you two! Show me what you got.”
Killian held up his hand, signaling for Riggs to move around. Gaining ground close to his father, Riggs swiped the sword flawlessly.
Rhidian twisted, blocking Riggs' strike, then charged, taking Riggs down with one slash.
“Got you.” His father winked, then charged toward Killian.
Killian crept behind Rhidian, but their father moved quickly, angling his sword to block Killian’s strike. Sparks flew as their swords clashed. With one single thrust, his father had Killian on his ass.
“How does the dirt taste?” Riggs asked Killian as he stood, glancing at Esemeray, just for a second. She waved. His breath caught, mouth watering. Fuck. Me.
His father charged, clashing his steel against his. “You can’t have distractions out in the field. Remember to always stay focused.”
Riggs nodded, readjusting his stance and slashing the claymore with a hard, powerful motion.
“Good! Just like that!” Rhidian praised.
Again and again, he advanced with lethal movements. For once, Riggs had the upper hand. And it felt damn good.
Killian stood there, watching pridefully.
Riggs gripped the hilt and pushed forward, swinging his sword with fluid, powerful grace, making his father lose balance.
Rhidian grimaced, blocking his blow. “Not bad for a dagger man.”
Sweat dripped off Riggs' face, trailing down his body as his father and he stood sword to sword. “I could say the same.” Riggs twisted, breaking their standoff. Sword raised high, he shouted, “Come on, old man!”
Rhidian’s lips tilted as he charged, slicing through the air like the warrior he used to be. Riggs dodged his father’s blow, rolling forward and turning around quickly, slashing relentlessly.
Rhidian blocked every blow Riggs sent his way, and rasped, “You don’t make it easy.” He pushed back, fiercely darting the tip of his blade at Riggs' throat, with a small smirk.
Inching backward, Riggs dropped his blade and raised his hands. “You got me,” he panted, licking the sweat off his lips.
“Remember, no distractions.” Rhidian lowered his sword. “That’s enough for the day.” He pointed to the garden. “I have a lot of work to do before tonight.”
Breathing heavily, Riggs squinted against the blinding sun and asked, “Where did Killian go?”
His father glanced around. “Looks like he’s talking to Emmy.”