FOREVER KNIGHTS: #13 Salvaging Souls

Mera snarled in rage.

“So unladylike.” He murmured for her ears alone.

Mera tried to regain Jeresine’s attention. But the young barmaid was now pointedly ignoring her.

At my bidding.

Yanking a creaking chair from a table. Meralee dropped into it to face the only man oblivious to the interchange.

An old man lifted pensive eyes from his mug. Eyes widening as he took in the image of the damp, beautiful woman who’d just joined him.

She leaned across the table, baring a tantalizing view of cleavage and rounded flesh.

The poor old fool is hypnotized. Lucien snorted.

“Who’s that man?” Without looking, she pointed to Lucien over her shoulder.

Lucien leaned forward to intently study the old man. Willing him to hold his silence. Who is he?

But the old fool was no match for her charms. “Lord Lucien, My Lady. We call him the Fogdragon.” He announced.

Lucien winced. We? I don’t know you.

“Fogdragon?” Interest piqued, she gestured for him to continue. “Do go on.”

Don’t. But this man didn’t know well enough to give Lucien a questioning look before he spoke. A shame.

“Well-named Miss, since ’e only comes with the darkness and that dreary fog.”

“For what?”

“Disobedience and wickedness are quickly…concisely handled by the beast, Miss.” Despite the man’s slur, his words were surprisingly educated.

Damn him for a fool.

“Beast?” She lifted a brow and tossed Lucien a look. “He is certainly that. Go on...” She encouraged, tapping the bottom of the man’s mug as he lifted it for a heavy dram.

“Michaelmus is me name.” He supplied. Noting her prompting gesture, he continued speaking of the Fogdragon.

To Lucien’s dismay, Old Michaelmus told her how Lucien blended with the mist until it was simply too late for his prey to fathom escape. He told Mera how vicious Lucien could be as he ambushed his quarries. “Tearing from the clouds and splitting fog like butter to nab his prey.”

Aptly put, I suppose.

To Lucien’s satisfaction her look became more and more skeptical. She doesn’t believe him.

Especially as Michaelmus explained the Fogdragon’s favored snack. Describing them as, “red-eyed, sharp toothed, ugly little beasties.”

Nonis.

“Where that man goes.” Michaelmus pointed to Lucien who still sat motionless. Listening to every word. “The Fogdragon follows.”

“Ah, so it isn’t he that does the dirty work?”

Michaelmus’ brow furrowed in confusion as he considered how to answer.

“I think perhaps you’ve had a mite too much to drink.” She sighed and sat back despondently.

Much to Lucien’s satisfaction.

“They’re linked!” Michaelmus declared with a telltale hiccup. “They alls calls him The Fogdragon because that beast is always with him.” Michaelmus slapped the counter, nodding emphatically.

A bit more than linked. Lucien was entertained by the degradation of their conversation.

Michaelmus paused while Mera crossed her arms and glowered at him.

She nearly leapt from her skin, when Lucien’s firm hands landed on her shoulders to tug her back into her seat.

“A bit more view perhaps, then he needed.” Lucien whispered near her ear.

Only then did she glance down and realize from Michaelmus’ view of her leaned over the table she’d been exposing an ample view of breast by crossing her arms under her chest.

Now Lucien, standing behind her was privy to that delectable view.

Tipping her head up to see him, her face darkened.

“Old man. Shouldn’t you be off now?” He suggested. Threat clear in his voice.

Go somewhere else.

“Lucien.” The old man nearly sneered. “I don’t fear you as they do.” He gestured around drunkenly.

“Well, that’s unwise.” Lucien purred.

“I’m much too old to care what punishments you might dole out.”

I wouldn’t bet on that. Touch words are easy to say.

Lucien scoffed. “If you reside in Browning, you should know well, you’ve nothing to fear from me, nor does anyone else.” He gestured around them. “They know well. It’s years of my protection that’s bought me such respect. Not fear of reprisal.” The firm grip on her shoulders became caressing as it neared the sensitive flesh at the base of her throat. “Why would you go putting such ideas into this lovely creature’s mind?” He coaxed.

Meralee had no idea those warm amber eyes burned vivid yellow in warning. Washing out all remnant of irises and whites. The pupil dilating to an oval-shaped pinprick as he warned Michaelmus.

Old Michaelmus’ eyes widened in response.

But when Meralee looked up again, she found Lucien merely smiling kindly.

“Yes, sir. I’ve no mind what came over me. My bloody ale.” Michaelmus mumbled rapidly as he slammed his mug down on the table. Stumbling nervously to his feet.

Lucien leaned forward to whisper through tendrils of her hair into her delicate ear. “Do you believe in such fanciful tales, My Lady?” He massaged her shoulders. That sensation and the combination of his warm breath were nearly intoxicating. His busy hands dipped just below the neckline of her gown, continuing the warm massage along her collarbones and upper chest.

She gasped and swatted his hands away. Leaping to her feet. “You, unbearable cad!”

“What? I merely wished to experience what was so willingly revealed to old Michaelmus.” His lips twitched, indicative of his amusement. “Any man here would’ve seen it as such invitation.” He was trying to point out the danger of the situation she’d put herself in.

“Oh, you-! I-I was-You!” Her eyes narrowed on him. “You’re insufferable!”.

“Yet here you stand, suffering me.” He gestured to her length before him.

Her lip curled, and a snarl escaped her.

“I wonder if you make a much similar noise while-” He lifted a suggestive brow.

“Don’t!” She interjected, halting further words, as she glanced at the gathering bystanders witnessing the interchange. “Don’t you even wonder!” She warned through narrowed brown eyes.

His grin was unabashed. “Too late…”