FOREVER KNIGHTS: #5 Subjugation of Beasts

With him?

No. Don’t do that!

She’ll say no. He reassured himself.

Another long silence as she’d have studied Rhyers. Trying to assess his motives.

What are his motives? Bast wondered himself. What are you up to, Friend?

Rhyers murmured something too low for Bast to hear as Dorena grew louder in an attempt to regain his attention.

Dammit. I couldn’t hear. He tossed her a look. Brows knitting in aggravation. What’d he say to her? It must’ve worked because she said only one word.

“Wait.” And the door closed.

No. Don’t do it.

Don’t go with him.

Come down for me.

But a short time later, Bast heard her step returning to the door. He waited in anticipation. Stomach tight, knowing she’d soon come into view. Her step soft on the stairs, intermingled with Rhyers’ light footfalls.

They rounded into the Dining Hall where Dorena and Bast drank wine near the massive stone fireplace.

Rhyers and Elsabet glided in. Both looking as if they owned the Hall.

She wore her favorite silver gown. Trimmed in blue and pink with silver vines embroidering the hem and belt. The fabric wound with threads of sparkling silk. Making her catch the eye in the firelight. The cloth reflecting a similar shade to her hair. Her dark blue eyes were huge on her pointed face. Flicking over him and then Dorena. Taking in the intimate sight of them there.

Not what you think. He had the sudden urge to push Dorena over. Away from me. Let her spill her wine and damn being well-mannered.

I just want my woman back. There was perhaps an exaggeration in that thought since he was aware he’d never really had her to begin with.

Bast knew he should rip his gaze away and try to feign a similar disinterest but found he absolutely could not.

She looks like a damn queen. He drew a whistling breath. Is she more beautiful tonight or does she only look it, since I haven’t seen her in days?

Rhyers had her hand folded over his forearm and his resting over it.

Bast had the sudden urge to break all of his friend’s fingers. A low snarl emitted from his throat as he stared at where the pair were connected in that simple touch.

Rhyers lifted a fine dark brow as he tilted his head.

Enjoying taunting me.

Unable to tolerate anymore, Bast slid to his feet, abandoning Dorena to descend on them. “What are you about?”

Rhyers was of similar height. Perhaps an inch or two taller but far slighter. He met Bast’s thunderous stare unwaveringly. “I asked a beautiful woman to share my dinner.”

Elsabet looked up at Bast unabashedly. Cheeks flushed at the compliment.

You enjoy his compliments now? Would she flit so easily from one man to the next? A moment later he was chiding himself for such cruel thoughts. I know better.

That is not Elsabet. She’s here because he asked her to be.

To provoke me. And his animosity returned to the black-haired green-eyed devil he called friend.

“And she agreed.” Rhyers flashed a smile that transformed his face. Brightening his eyes and making dimples appear around his mouth.

Bast currently contemplated slamming a fist into that mouth. Piss ant.

“Why do you come down when he asks?” Bast snarled at her.

Yes, I’m quite aware I sound a sullen child but I need to know!

“Perhaps I ask sweeter.” Rhyers leaned forward on his toes to confide.

Bast’s hands worked in white-knuckled fists. His eyes zeroing in on Rhyers. “Don’t play with me. I know what you’re doing.”

“Then why is it working?” Rhyers asked near his ear.

“You know why.”

“Perhaps then you’ve been drinking wine with the wrong woman?”

Bast deflated. “I would drink with her, dance with her, eat with her. Anything if she’d have me!” He proclaimed.

Elsabet’s mouth gaped in shock at his announcement.

Rhyers leaned around Bast and caught Dorena’s devastated look.

“If this is how you intend to behave tonight, perhaps I should go console Dorena.” An appreciative note lifted his voice.

Rhyers was redeemed when he handed over Elsabet’s fingers. Slapping it in Bast’s palm just as Elsabet registered to jerk away.

A moment too late, My Sweet. By then Bast’s thumb pinned her palm. That small touch nearly viselike.