King of the Seditious

Blue Lark, Dread Hideout

Savage sighed. Relieved to be back through the gates of the Blue Lark.

And away from the demons for a while.

He strode the inner courtyard. Hearing the haggling from the Trader’s Market to the side of the fortress. Women’s voices raising commandingly above the rest.

That made a slow smile curve his lips. Dimurah’s barmaids are now some of the most vicious hagglers.

Especially Adrea.

Belline, the blonde, was usually too busy trying to peddle her other wares to worry about the Trader’s Market.

He stepped into Winter’s Haven and smelled the aroma of fresh wood, ale and…Dimurah.

I miss her scent when I’m away. He took it in like a drowning man’s first breath.

Then he caught the acrid stench of something else. Cimmerii. His head whipped.

A demon in The Haven?

He proceeded into Winter’s Haven. Heading for his usual spot on the corner of the counter where he had the best vantage point to see the whole tavern. His eyes roved upward to see the high support beams. Quickly scanning them.

Nothing up there.

His gaze levelled and he twisted with slow precision to scan every corner and table in the alehouse.

He spotted the woman. Sitting on ColdKill’s lap in a booth.

The assassin was known for his ability to murder without discrimination. Willing to torture for a bit of extra coin.

The maid on his lap was laughing at him but that died as she glanced up. Meeting Savage’s penetrating blue gaze.

“Did you think I wouldn’t see you?” His voice cut across the alehouse.

She stiffened on the man’s lap.

Knowing who I’m talking to.

She thought I wouldn’t know right away what she was? The ego on her.

Dimurah’s head slowly turned to him. She groaned. “No, not tonight. Just one night…”

Savage stepped on a chair and then atop the counter to get a better view.

“Yes, you. You thought you’d fool me? You thought you could come in here and I wouldn’t know what you were from the second you took a breath in my presence?” Hatred seeped into his voice.

He leapt off the countertop and aimed his body toward her to head that direction.

“No!” Dimurah rounded the counter and ran over. Stepping in-front of the woman, just as Savage reached her.

Not tonight. He looked through Dimurah at his prey.

“Stop!” Dimurah waved her arms before his face. Trying to block his eyeline in a desperate attempt to get his attention.

Hoping to rationalize with me.

She can’t rationalize what she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know anything about demons. He reminded himself. Stamping down his impatience at her interference.

“What are you doing?” He said coldly at her. Trying to warn her to step from his path.

Before the wench stabs her in the back.

“Trying to stop you! You said I could hire whomever I wished to work in Winter’s Haven!” Dimurah’s voice rose in her desperation to protect the barmaid she’d just hired.

Not knowing what she was.

“Yes. And I said if you brought someone in, I didn’t like, I’d take care of it.”

You’ve always known that was the deal. It’s how I keep you safe.

“You’re going to kill a whore because you don’t like the way she looks?”

His eyes narrowed on Dimurah contemptuously. “I couldn’t give two shits how your whores look!”

Dimurah paused, mouth moving in confusion.

“There’s nothing wrong with this whore.” ColdKill gestured to the black-haired woman’s slender length. He stroked a hand from her slender wrist over her shoulder to cup a small perky breast. Palming it as he growled in his throat. “I’ll pay her well after I’ve humped her.”

The woman giggled. Stroking his chest affectionately.

“There most certainly is something wrong with her.” Savage’s hand shot out and caught her arm in a biting grip.

The devil’s already had his touch all over her.

Radix has probably already injected his poison deep.

She shrieked and began to struggle at his touch. Sensing the threat, she was under. Clinging to ColdKill’s tunic in the hopes he’d defend what he’d desired to join with.

Only if he’s willing to risk his own skin.

“Let her go!” Dimurah hit Savage’s hand. Yanking his forearm so fiercely her nails dug into his skin.

Like a bird trying to break a lion’s grip. Savage cast her a bored look.

He drew a breath between his lips and tossed her a pointed, blue-eyed look.

“Stop.” Despite the wound she’d just cut into his forearm, his voice was calm on her.

“You’re not hurting her!” Dimurah yanked off her cloak and tossed it over his head.

Before it could fall over him, he swept it up, reversing its direction to toss over Dimurah. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around it. Effectively pinning her within it.

As she’d hoped to do to me.

“Are we quite done attacking me?” He whispered through the rough green fabric, next to her ear. Barely holding her as he restrained her flailing under the cloak.

Looking like a cat trying to escape a bag.

“Are you done attacking my barmaid!” She countered, writhing against him. Trying to wriggle her shoulders free.

“You better stop.” He pressed against her. Letting her feel the reaction she was having on him.

Her struggles and the motion of her body against me are already making me hard. At the feel of his hardened rod against her, she went very still.

Good.

He looked at ColdKill’s empty lap and grunted in frustration. Letting her go to turn and look around.