FOREVER KNIGHTS: #3 Forsaking the Vanquished

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SEBASTIAN - What Game is This?

WaterRose, Meadow Mountain, Grier country (Elsabet is captive eighteen years)


Everything is blurry. Sebastian blinked to focus on pouring his sherry.

It’d proven a long two days of drinking before Bast finally surrendered to Acharius’ superior tolerance. Damn him for his greater weight! Bast attributed.

He laughed though. It’s always a joy to get Acharius’ mind off duty.

When the Viking did ease, he was hilarious, direct and impulsive. Making him comical to watch after a bit o’ drink.

Bast had somehow magically managed to make his way to his library. Though I’ve no idea how. How long have I been here? He looked up bemusedly, realizing he didn’t know.

“Oof.” He grunted. Still unsteady as he lifted yet another glass to his lips. Well into the comfort of his blue library chair. He replaced the cork before precariously delivering a second glass to the beautiful blonde next to him. Elsabet.

She’d been reading here when he’d arrived a moment ago. Ignoring him flopping into the other chair before the fire.

“Will you join me? You don’t have to.” He assured. “I only wish to share if you’d desire some?”

“Do I ever do anything I don’t wish?” She held out her hand absentmindedly and he slapped the glass into her palm.

“Yes.” His voice dropped. And he stared into his drink. “Stay here. With me.”

Her mouth whitened. And her grip tightened on the glass, causing it to fracture before she eased it. Staring at it in surprise. Her eyes lifted as he slid to the floor, glass still in his hand.

Kneeling before her, he placed his other hand on her knee to massage it over her skirt. Vaguely noticing she didn’t jump or recoil from his touch this time.

“Is this a game? Do you toy with me?” He took another drink and eyed her warily over the rim. “Am I playing a fool in your hands?”

It’s been years of casual touches, getting close, then drawing back. I’m more confused than ever.

“Would I find you so pliable?” She arched a brow.

“You would.” He looked at her steadily. Mesmerizing turquoise eyes intent on her face. “I’m clay in your hands...”

“Clay hardens.”

Me too. Every time I look at you. Bast nearly spit his wine at the immediate thought entering his mind.

She gave him a quizzical look.

“My usual crude tongue would run far from my control should I respond to that, My Lady.”

“You know well, I’m no Lady.”

I disagree.

“Are you trying to provoke me?” He gave her a questioning study.

She met his look with a lift of her chin. “How is my statement provoking?”

“I disagree with you. Heatedly.” He glanced into his glass. “You may be the only true lady I’ve ever known.”

She was startled. Eyes huge as she stared at him in disbelief.

“What?” He asked.

“Sometimes your sweet words seem remarkably genuine.”

They are. I am.

“I’m always genuine.” He said softly.

“You always pour syrup from your lips.” She said skeptically.

“Only on you.” He tilted his head. Trying to banish the imagery that evoked. “I can be quite cruel.”

She gnawed her cheek and considered him a moment. “I believe you could be.”

You’ve no idea.

His brows lifted pointedly. “Quite.”

She suddenly rocked forward to swat his glass from his hand, letting it shatter on the floor as she slid to her knees before him, her hands catching his head as her lips met his. Heated with passion and rough with unspent emotion.

What is this?

Bast was pressed back onto his rear, his palms catching his weight as he met her kiss. Startled when her darting tongue delved into his mouth to taste him as deeply as he consumed her. Matching her desire, he barely noticed his hands lifting, of their own volition, to rove her body. Pressing her lower back to mold her to him.

She shoved him backward.

With her weight atop him, and balanced as he was with his hands on her instead of supporting him, he’d no ability to catch himself.

Elsabet landed atop him. Nearly knocking the air from him. She didn’t pause, pressing her soft body to his.

Stunned at her uncharacteristic behavior, he pushed her up so he could draw a few long breaths and force out words.

Think, Bast. He fought to restrain himself as he clung to his tenuous control, desperately trying to shake the fog of ale and wine.

“Elsabet, what is it you’ll ask of me in return?”

I promised her freedom. And I’m not sure I’ll give it to her. He realized.

“Does it matter?” She whispered against his mouth.

“No.” He recognized, knowing she didn’t fully know the meaning of what he said.

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