Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“I am utterly certain that is not true,” he murmured.
“Put me to the test,” she challenged, again unwisely.
“Right then, my warrior,” he rumbled, leaning ever closer to her. “What I would like to do is drag you from this room, take you somewhere dark, kiss you until you’re breathless, also, importantly, speechless, and equally importantly, soaked. Then I would spank you until you beg me to stop and apologize for being bloody-minded.”
Her brows were up in full affront. “Spank me?”
“Spank you,” he growled.
As their eyes clashed, and this went on for long moments (very long), her indignation ebbed, she appeared to be fighting confusion, as well as (finally) considering the wisdom of her next.
She made the wrong decision.
“Soaked?”
He dipped so close, he had to avert his head in order to put his lips to her ear.
“For me,” he purred. “Between your legs.”
She jerked away, belatedly, and hastily took up her utensils again.
Cassius moved slightly from her but did it studying her profile.
“I see. Very worldly-wise, my future wife,” he murmured, sounding a cross between contemplative, pleased, amused and titillated.
“You can stop speaking now,” she declared, spearing something on her plate.
“I don’t think I will.”
“Then I’ll stop speaking to you,” she declared, shoving her fork into her mouth.
Cassius turned to his own plate as the servant boy set a new glass beside Elena’s and whisked away her old.
He picked up his utensils, muttering, “If we cannot get along, at least I won’t mind gazing upon you. Not to mention, life will be far from boring. Especially in bed.”
Another flush hit Elena’s cheeks.
The priest considered this situation.
One could say with some certainty they had no accord at all.
However, Cassius had already lost one wife to forces he could not control, thus no vengeance could be meted.
He desired the Nadirii.
Would Cassius Laird unleash wrath for a woman he simply wished to bed?
The listener did not think he wanted to test that.
He turned his attention to the final couple, finding them with his eyes before he did the same with his ears.
Only to see Farah of Firenze staring right at him.
He looked to his own plate.
“I say, are you with us?”
His gaze lifted to Carrington, the advisor to the Dellish king who was one of five sharing the round table with him.
“You’ve been miles away,” Carrington noted when he had his regard.
“My apologies,” he replied. “Much is happening. Much on my mind.”
“Of course,” Carrington murmured, reaching for his wine.
The priest did the same.
While doing it, he felt someone’s regard and turned his attention toward that sensation.
Melisse, the queen’s lieutenant, was studying him.
“You are well?” she asked quietly.
She did not care if he was well.
She might have sensed he’d been using magic. He had a habit of cloaking it, even around his own people. But he didn’t often use it around a Nadirii.
Perhaps it was he who had been unwise.
“Quite well, my friend,” he murmured.
She tipped her head to him and bent to her plate.
He took a few bites, a few sips, made a little conversation.
And only then did he look back to True…and Farah.
Farah was turned to her prince.
“I don’t trust him,” she whispered.
“The Go’Doan are harmless, sweets,” True replied. “Or at least, he is.”
“You know my father was Go’Doan,” she returned.
“Don’t put yourself in that place, Farah,” he said gently. “They are all not your father.”
“I also felt what I felt earlier, True,” she declared. “Do you think this is a coincidence, what I felt coming from him, and feeling that earlier?”
“There are some very powerful witches in this room, as well as all who fulfill the prophecy,” he noted. “That would be an explanation, wouldn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” she murmured.
“Emotions are heightened. Much is happening. It would not be outlandish to think you’re responding to that,” True assured.
“I suppose.” Farah didn’t sound convinced. “We’ll talk more of it. Later.”
“When he’s not around?” True sounded teasing.
Farah smiled at him. “Just.”
True smiled back.
She adjusted her attention and the priest sensed it was coming back to him.
So he returned his attention to his dinner companions.
He did it making a decision.
He would travel the astral plane that very night and tell his lover to continue with the rituals, simply without his attendance…for a time. The priest would return to their work in the forest as swiftly as he could when this threat was cleared.
As for the threat.
It would be them.
Farah and True.
Or, specifically…
Farah.
He took up his wine, smiled warmly at Johan Mattson, father of Silence, took a sip and set it aside contentedly in order to focus on his food.
He was starving.
22
The Retribution
Princess Serena
Guest Suite, Second Floor, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
The Mystic withdrew his mouth from between her legs before she climaxed.
Serena did not like that.
Not at all.
He was talented down there.
Exceptionally so.
And she would have more.
“I’m not finished,” she snapped, as he rose up to his knees between her legs.