FOREVER KNIGHTS: #13 Salvaging Souls

Night Manor, Mane Country

CHAVIAS

Chavias’ comings to Night Manor held no set pattern. No certain day or time defined when he’d arrive. Often, he returned without Sabine even hearing him.

Still, she seemed stunned when she’d entered the library today and found him there. She lurched to a stop in the doorway.

“You’re staring.” He commented off-handedly without looking up from the book he read. He sat comfortably. As if he’d been there awhile. Tendrils of black hair escaping his tether to sweep his face. A dark goatee framing his mouth where it rested beneath his straight nose.

“You aren’t wearing a shirt.”

Is that why you’re staring?

“You’ve encouraged me to relax in my home, during these rare hours of reprieve.” He still didn’t look from the pages. But he sensed her nod as he leisurely turned the page. But her probing gaze made it hard to concentrate on the words.

“Your eyes are the strangest shade. Gray…” She assessed his aristocratic features. “I’ve rarely seen hair so black. As dark as your crow’s wings.”

Thadeus. It dawned on Chavias he hadn’t seen the bird in awhile.

“Are you?” He felt his chin lift slightly in interest as he struggled not to look at her.

If I do, I won’t be able to look away.

“I think if you were to wear an eye patch, you’d look quite the rogue.”

Likely like a pirate.

Despite himself, he shot her a stunned look. “And what do you know of rogues and pirates?”

“Perilously little.”

I’d hope so.

Perhaps you should research. In-case something ever happened to me.

“I have books on them.” Turning he pulled another from the shelf behind his chair to offer it to her.

“Are you a pirate?”

“No, why?” His brow furrowed.

“You’re dark…And tanned, like I think one would be.”

“I spent many days in the sun once.”

“As a warlord?” She questioned.

“As a warrior.” He corrected.

“There’s a difference?”

“One is something to be proud of and fights for a purpose.”

A warrior.

“And the other?” Her voice was soft.

A warlord? Black creatures.

“The other fights for someone else. With death as the only goal.”

“I don’t think that’s who you are.”

I wish it wasn’t. The faith in her eyes made he wish he was more than he was.

“It is what I do.” His eyes returned to the pages to hide his shame but her long look made it obvious he’d done a poor job.

“I see you, Chavias.” She whispered.

Maybe she does.

He materialized near her elbow as she entered the Dining Room.

She shot him a startled look over her shoulder. “Where did you come from?”

She’s a rare beauty.

Her skin was flawless white. Blue eyes were calm pools looking back at him. Enhanced by the plain fabric, dark blue gown she wore. Exposing delicately curved shoulders and the rise of her breasts as she panted in surprise.

Surely there’ll be no pearl as fine as she for centuries to come. I’ve never seen a woman who could rival her. He suppressed the urge to run a caressing hand along her rounded jaw and through that soft, flowing white hair.

Linking his hands behind his back instead, he reminded himself she was as untouchable to him as the moon was to the sun. She was never intended for my touch.

He sighed. Shoulders slumping as he considered telling her. She should what manner of man resides in this house with her…

“I was once, you know?” He took a seat across from her at the little wooden table. Propping his booted feet on the edge of the table. Loose tunic slumping around his collar as he moved. Picking up a paring knife, he worked the peel of an orange loose.

Considered a pirate.

“Huh?” She asked. Eyes widening as she took the other seat. Her mouth open in question. Lips slightly parted.

What I’d give to taste those soft lips…

“Was once what?” She managed, befuddled.

“What some call a pirate. I rode the seas against foreigners without the king’s blessing.” He rested the fruit on his abdomen. “I can see how you’d so easily spot it in me.”

“But I didn’t.” She argued.

“You did.”

“I-” She started to speak, shaking her head slightly. “I only meant you look-you’re so dark-not that…”

She thinks she’s offended me. I’m not so easily insulted as that. He cleared his throat. Returning to the fruit which now juiced on his worn tunic. He shifted to peel his shirt loose from where the cold dampness molded it to him.

“’Tis of no consequence.” He dismissed. “I must tell you something else.”

I know what you are.

“There’s more?”

He noticed her wary look.

“What is it?” She asked hesitantly.

“Do you know from whence you came?”

Do you know you’re a Watcher?

“My father?” She asked slowly as if speaking to a simpleton.

Not what I mean.

“Prior to that.” He grunted.

She shook her head, brows drawing together. “What are you talking about?”