FOREVER KNIGHTS: #9 Feral Breed

The alehouse was silent.

Still holding his neck at the end of a locked arm, Savage turned to the room. “He betrayed all of you. He alerted Danbury to the raid I intended. He was a danger to us all. I won’t tolerate those that are faithless!” He barked. Gaze inadvertently flicking to Dimurah.

Knowing that in her mind, he’d betrayed her. Though I didn’t, she won’t see it that way.

She stared at him. Jaw gaping. Rounding the counter, she stalked over.

Feeling somewhat like a troublesome child, he abruptly released ColdKill’s throat and let him slide to the floor as he drew his last gasps of air. Rounding to face her head on, he took a step and met her as she aimed for him with livid color staining her face.

They stopped inches apart. His head dropped down to be nose to nose with her under the hood. His back and shoulders still heaving from his slowing breaths. Face tight from the exertion and blood thrumming through him.

Savage forced his body to cool from the rush of blood pulsing through him from the power of battle. I could hurt her if I don’t settle down.

She reached him and ripped the dagger from his shoulder.

Making him huff through gritted teeth. Staring her down like a starved predator.

“Careful Dimurah.” Someone cautioned from behind them. “He was just fighting…”

“I don’t give two shits!” She shouted stealing his favored line. She tossed the blade to the floor and grabbed a fistful of his wooden kill beads. Knotting his hair to yank him along behind her.

Like Okine used to.

He locked his feet and ripped his head away. Despite it nearly wrenching a hunk of his hair out. Piercing blue gaze cutting through her. “I haven’t the patience tonight, Murah.” His tone was dangerous.

“Neither do I!” She stood on her toes to glare into his face. Hands tight in fists arced behind her.

Utterly fearless.

“Unless you’re inviting me to your bed. I’m not moving from this alehouse until everyone is clear on how I feel about traitors.” His tone was eerily calm. Making the onlookers ease backward in-case he’d lash out like a prodded serpent.

Dimurah gasped in outrage. Vibrating with malcontent.

“We’re clear, Savage Jack.” One man said quietly.

“Yes, not much misinterpretation of your message.” Another man said under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Thomas, Dimurah’s younger bodyguard entered the alehouse.

Now? You wouldn’t have been much good to her from wherever you were at, up until now. Where were you when they had her flat on her back on this floor? Savage’s dark look moved to the younger man.

“Thomas!” Dimurah put up a hand to warn him back. Sending Savage a panicked look. She knew the expression on his face and the predatory way his eyes tracked Thomas’ movements. She elected to viciously slap the wound at his shoulder to get his attention.

Stupid. Hissing in pain his head whipped back to her.

“Good I have your attention. This is my alehouse. And killing every night is not acceptable.”

But the pain, strangely, did do the trick. Feeling the heat throbbing through him subsiding, he sidled from her to lean against the pillar where ColdKill had been. “It’s not every night.” He gave her an unabashed grin. White teeth gleaming.

She sneered at him.

Wanting to hit me so bad her palms itch. He could tell from the way her hands worked.

I know the feeling. His twitched with the urge to get ahold of her. And have my way with her. Right now.

But it was clear on her face.

She’s not much in the mood. As he thought it, he was startled by a broken cry from near them.

Both he and Dimurah turned. Only now noticing Thomas had approached next to Dimurah.

A man had rose from next to him and stuck a long blade through his ribs. Cutting into a lung. Obvious from Thomas’ wheezing.

“No!” Dimurah cried. Rushing to her bodyguards’ side so fast the hood of her cloak fell back.

Savage realized the attacker was not a man he knew. And he blindsided the boy.

Filthy tactic.

Thomas sunk slowly to the floor. Fighting for air in desperate gasps. Holding his side and staring at them with stunned eyes. Mouth impossibly wide.

“No, No!” Dimurah was cupping his cheeks. Her hands fluttering to the wound and back to his face.

She doesn’t know what to do.

That’s fatal. Nothing she can do. Savage had long ago learned the look of a fatal wound when he saw it. I just ensure several are accomplished for the sake of being thorough.

The man watched the boy dying with interest. Wiping his blade off on his breeches. The movement made his tunic slide further up his forearm. Allowing Savage to glimpse the burn scar of a broken three-part oval.

The mark of a servant of the Throne of Ocnomad.

Here to kill me.

“Who are you?” Savage stepped closer to the stranger.

“Wildling.”

A few men shuffled away. Knowing the name

“Why’d you kill this man?” Savage gestured to the dying form, Dimurah was desperately sobbing over.

“He’s not dead yet.”

“Yes, he is.”

He just doesn’t know it yet.