Ward of a Brotherhood
“As did I, you.” She shot back.
I don’t give a shit.
Before I lose what little patience I possess.
“I asked mine days ago. You first.” Her eyes narrowed on him.
He continued the long unblinking look.
She finally relented. “Kind enough.”
Kind enough? His teeth nearly gnashed.
“Don’t I make sure you’ve all you need?”
“I suppose you try.” She grudgingly admitted, lip curling and eyes skittering away.
I try at nothing.
“I’ve offered you an array of food, acquired you quite a wardrobe-”
“Of very delicate dresses.”
“Which look lovely on you.” He pointed out.
“For your viewing pleasure.” Her voice was waspish now.
Damn right. He gave a half nod and a shrug.
“Colors you might enjoy if you weren’t so set on being a thing of bitterness.” He sneered.
“Only towards men.”
“Oh! Are you kind to women, now?” His voice rose in surprise, distracted from his original purpose.
“Not particularly.” She admitted.
“As I thought.” He nodded.
“Why will you not tell me of your history?” She interrupted the silence.
It’s none of your business.
Why would I give you ammo to fire at me?
“How many times have I asked you from whence you come?”
“Countless.” She muttered.
“And how many have I asked you why you want my amulet?”
“And you’ve met all my questions with silence, so it should come as no surprise to you that when you have a question I don’t wish to answer, I simply won’t.” His jaw ticked. “Communication. Conversation is a give and take relationship, Little Harpie.”
“Yet you seem to be the one doing all the taking?” She shot out.
Not nearly enough. His blue-green eyes zeroed in on her.
“I’d like to take a lot more.” Voice husky, his eyes slid downward meaningfully.
Huffing she gave him her back and forcefully drug books from the shelf. Slamming them back into place as she looked at the seams.
He watched her a moment, his amusement blatant. “We could seal a truce?”
Brow lifting, she turned slowly back to him. “How so?”
“My information for yours?”
Her nose wrinkled.
“A bargain of exchanging information.” He explained. “It’s obvious neither of us have seen the like of the other. And it rankles you, you don’t understand my kind.” He leaned against the shelf at his side. Propping his cheek along his bicep.
And it rankles me I don’t understand what the hell you are.
She gave a grudging head tilt. “But we’re enemies and there’s no way around that.” She said stoically.
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”
She stared at him mulling it over.
She started slowly. “Iceron told me that the pendant.” She nodded to the chain encircling his neck. “holds the power to summon a dragon.”
That name again…Bast stared at her stunned, so she pressed on.
“There’s a girl with us, Carro. She summons some from the ‘Minor Realms’. Small things. Vicious enough but not overly intimidating nor big enough to fight among men. So…Iceron wanted one from the Major Realms. A big beast.”
Figurine Dragons. A girl that can call on them. Interesting
But Bast found himself laughing. A low rumble eased from his chest up through his throat.
“You think they’re to be summoned like that?” He roared in laughter now.
You think you could summon me, and I’d come fight at your call? I think not.
Her voice was dry. Unamused by his great mirth. “Iceron didn’t know much apparently…”
“Oh.” He gasped as he sucked in air. “You were grossly under informed, Little Harpie.”
She gave him a sideways look before spinning about and walking out into the hall beyond the foyer, passing the stairs. He followed her still laughing.
Finally incited too far, she turned back to demand. “There’s more than one, isn’t there? You’re not the only?”
She crossed her arms as she faced off with him.
Her sudden movement drew his attention. Making him stop and straighten, as her beautiful little breasts were thrust upward, rising above the neckline of the gold satin that molded her, by the pressure of her forearms beneath them.
What’d she say?
Frowning she asked again. “You’re not the only one, are you?”
He started chuckling again and it turned into roaring laughter.
Her lips tightened.
He slipped into her thoughts and found her mind racing back to that fateful day fifteen years ago, when she’d become his captive. No denying he, himself was the dragon driving her over the trees and straight to WaterRose.
“There’s a legion of you, isn’t there?” She sighed. Stumbling back, she slid up on a carved stone table along the windowed wall. Leaning on the stone vase displayed there, she moved a handful of hair over her shoulder thoughtfully.
“Of course, My Dear. Did you really think you were the Captive of one man?” Stepping close he casually placed a hand on her knee, so he could ease close enough to stare down into her vibrant blue eyes.
And glimpse the expanse of skin exposed by the nearly sleeveless gown.
“I’m not?” She asked hesitantly.
“No. You’re the ward of a Brotherhood.” He drew another step closer. His hips brushing between her knees.