“All of these women have surrendered?” She said skeptically. Blonde brow arching delicately. But he caught the slight quaking of her breath.

She’s a little excited by the danger.

So am I, apparently.

“All except one, last I knew. He has his captive until she will be his wife. I suspect he’ll keep her for an eternity if necessary, to wear her down.” Humor tinged his words.

And she still may never.

“Are you threatening me?” Her tone rose.

“You?” He reared back. “No, My Lady. I was speaking of an old friend.”

“So, who’s your woman?”

Mine? I haven’t one!

Unless it’s you. I can’t say that. But the thought had occurred to him. It’d explain much. Such as why your loneliness screams at me at night. Perhaps that is how you pull me to you, even when I don’t intend to Spirit Run. Like the day she’d drawn him into the woods with her while she played in the snow.

He sighed. But it’s more likely that is my wishful thinking.

“And if I were? What would you do?” The question spilled from her lips and he sensed her instant wish to pull them back.

He quietly debated the answer. “I imagine I would steal you away. But my seduction would be quite unfair. I fear I’m no gentleman as the others.”

“Are you truly so conceited to think such a thing would work on me?”

No.

“Absolutely.” He bluffed, studying her profile.

You’re far too beautiful for one such as I.

“You should know. No seduction can compare to that of my kind.” He continued the playful banter despite his thoughts.

Just because it’s been a terrible long time since I had playful conversation with anyone. Woman or other…

She bit her bottom lip and he caught the movement of her jaw.

I’d like to nibble that soft lip. His body tightened, and he felt contempt at himself. Eying the perfect white skin of her soft shoulder, he could still feel the smoothness of it under his fingertips.

He sobered, recalling his original purpose. He caught a whiff of the stench of death and knew it was either Radix or Okine lingering outside his cell back in Stone Peak. I have to get back.

“You need to leave this place.” His tone hardened as his thoughts went a direction he didn’t like.

Thadeus, the dreadful bird, sensed the change in him. Squealing as he flew from the window.

“Delacroix Hall?” Her voice hitched.

“Yes. It isn’t safe. I can’t protect you here.”

“I won’t go.”

“You must.” He turned commanding. “You’re not safe!”

She harrumphed. “What are you? You’ve made several references to your kind.”

He drew a steadying breath.

I’m Cimmerii evil. I’d no right to claim the Aeternus Tutela any longer.

“It makes you sad.” She explained. “So, I ask. Why?”

“Perceptive Little Devil, aren’t you?” He asked.

“I’m sensitive to what people feel.”

“Milady you’re anything but sensitive to what I’m feeling.”

Or you’d pull that sleeve up over your shoulder and banish me from this chamber forever.

“You try to change the subject from your sorrow.”

You’re right.

“Perhaps. To something more pleasurable to consider.”

Like exposing every inch of your pretty white skin.

“Why your sorrow?” She asked again. Doggedly staying on the topic.

“Once” He sighed. “We were called the poor-fellow knights. They called us blasphemers, later.” His fingers reached to toy along her delicate collarbones. His thumbs folded around near her shoulder blades. His grip went firm as he tested the narrowness of her shoulders. The fragility of her frame compared to his own. Further inciting something long dead in him.

She was still, slightly stiff but didn’t ask him to stop. Her hand trembled slightly as he set her brush on the dressing table.

I effect her. Good to know.

“And then?” She prompted, breathlessly. Tensing as his hands tightened.

“Your hair is the strangest shade.” He murmured thoughtfully. “Rich silver with gold and copper notes woven in.” He said wistfully. Hungering to sift fingers through it.

I want my hands all over her. It was easy to admit, despite knowing he shouldn’t even be here. He rested his chin atop her head.

She recognized the feel of it his chin there. “You’re a tall man.”

Very tall.

Especially compared to your fine lords of this day and age.

“Nay. A wee one.” Humor tinged his voice again.

“First, you’re mocking, then you’re sad, and now you’re teasing. I think you hide your sorrow with humor, at my expense.”

Not at your expense.

At mine.

“Perhaps you’re right, Little Devil…Why does my height matter?”

“I’m a tall woman.”

Not compared to me. You’d fit perfectly in my arms.

“You’re not so tall.” He reassured.

“I’m taller than any other I know.”

“Perhaps.” He coaxed her shoulders, rubbing the muscles. Feeling her body relaxing under his ministrations.

She moaned slightly. Softening.

“You relax so quickly under the hands of a stranger.”

“I’ve dreamt about you here and felt you during my waking hours. Speaking to you is almost a relief. I’d begun to fear I was quite insane.”

“You clearly are.”

Letting me touch you like this.

She stiffened, and he sensed her indignance. But after a moment she registered he meant about the current situation and how well she adapted to these strange circumstances.

“You’re tired.”

“I am now.” She murmured.

“Go to bed, Little-”

Dove.

“Devil. Yes, as you say.” She stumbled to the bed, legs feeling leaden. “Did you bespell me? Is that why I’m suddenly so weak?”

No.

“Oh, do I wish I had that power right now.” As he moved in step with her, guiding her without releasing her shoulders, to maintain the hypnotically relaxing touch. Letting go as she climbed into the bed. Rolling away from him.

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