FOREVER KNIGHTS: #5 Subjugation of Beasts

Mera caught Anna by the back of her wrap and jerked her head for them to go. Crossing the lawn, the three of them aimed for the shade of a tree.

Deragan couldn’t resist sending the brunette a thankful glance but Meralee was oblivious.

She saved me. He blew a relieved breath.

“He makes you nervous.” Mera accused Nora.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Nora gave a helpless gesture. “He,” She pointed. “Gets within ten feet of me and my feet tangle.”

“He was starting to warm to me!” Anna fumed at the interruption.

No, no I wasn’t. His brow knitted and he forced himself to look passed them.

Mera was unapologetic. “He seems content to sit by himself.”

No, I’m wishing Nora would come over.

“Looks more to me like he is watching for someone.” Mera’s eyes narrowed on him.

She’s right. Deragan watched for Cimmerii. Eying the crowd and the adjoining lawns further back.

He could smell the vaguest odor. Someone here is contaminated. Turning he scanned carefully. Waiting for them to reveal themselves.

An image of Nora tripping when she’d seen him the first time, had a smile pulling his lips. He swirled wine absentmindedly in his glass.

And today she nearly topples a punch table. Almost dousing me.

I’d have made a wondrous impression, dripping like a drowned rat. He shook his head.

Blowing a breath, he was vigilant. If Nora’s here, Cimmerii are probably not far. But he hadn’t spotted any yet.

It’d help if I could quit staring at her like a lovestruck tutelage boy. He reprimanded himself. It’d help if I didn’t feel like one.

A gentle gust fluttered her lavender sundress against her legs flattering their long shape as the fabric contoured against her.

Making him shift uncomfortably. Don’t look at her. But his eyes drifted to enchanting glimpses of slim ankles as she stepped.

“Mayhap Mera is right. Maybe he’s not interested in tutelage ladies.” Nora suggested.

Even from across the well-manicured lawn and mingle of voices, he discerned Anna’s scathing retort. “Well he seems plenty interested in you. He’s staring.”

Dammit. She’s right. I was. Focusing on a point across the road he ignored the flood of heat in his face as Nora scrutinized him.

“Anna, I don’t think he’s even looked at me since we’ve been here…Other than when I tried to shower him in punch.”

He blew a relieved breath.

“He has.” Anna argued.

Stop! He willed her. Wishing she’d drop the subject.

But Anna continued on the same vein despite his hopes.

Feeling the table against his hip dip, Deragan looked at the stalky redhead leaning his palms on the table to crowd Deragan. He had harsh features, and liberal freckling.

Red freckles, red hair, red complexion…Pretty much red everything.

Ronald Turner.

“You like looking at her?” Red asked.

Brows drawing together, Deragan looked at Red, eying the carefully fitted overcoat and confident stance. But his curling red hair was tousled, and boots smudged.

It’s clearly Worthington’s coin paying for the finery. But Red is not accustomed to maintaining it.

“You’ve been watching her.” Turner persisted.

What business is it of yours? Deragan felt his hostility mounting.

“And?” He gave Red a penetrating study.

“She belongs to Worthington.”

The Hell she does!

“Then why is he not here talking to me?” Deragan asked.

“I’ve better people skills.” Turner smirked.

Neither of you have any. Deragan resumed staring ahead. Spotting Worthington, surrounded by cloying maids, across the vast lawn.

“Send your Sweetheart over. I’ll have a chat with him.” Deragan nodded to him.

Red leapt off the edge of the table to shove Deragan.

Deragan agilely stepped aside. Dodging Red’s swing making him stumble clumsily for his effort.

Red tried again but Deragan swept his fist aside and caught him by the throat. Eyes yellowing, his pupils zeroed in on Red.

Ronald Turner watched in horror. Choking on the rage coming off Deragan, instinctive spikes of fear shot up his spine. The hand on his throat began crushing his esophagus as he struggled for his next breath.

Deragan’s face blurred and distorted, revealing a glimpse of protruding snout with razor teeth and a fan of scales around his head. A vision Deragan allowed Red to see.

A peek at my real face. When Deragan abruptly released Turner, the boy stumbled back.

Red made gurgling noises as he overturned the table, scattering platters of food and dumping the punch bowl. Staining the grass as red as spilled blood. He managed to climb to his feet and bolted down the street to put as much distance as he could between himself and Deragan.

Feeling the eyes of the crowd boreing into his back, Turner peered over his shoulder.

The table was upright. Every platter and pitcher docilely where they’d been. Never disturbed.

And Deragan...watching him steadily. Unblinkingly.

Ronald Turner ran faster.