King of the Seditious

Peak Mountain, Black Mountains, Battling Border

CHAVIAS

Since Chavias had heard Radix leaving in Danbury’s coach he had been fingering the iron key tucked under his cot and wrapped in Calisto’s cloak.

Perhaps I am wrong.

Perhaps she doesn’t deserve to die, as I’d thought.

Have I gotten so dark that I seek vengeance where it’s not needed? But then he remembered overhearing Radix telling Deiti, the redheaded temptress who tormented him, to stay close to the caves because soon he’d be sending her after a Winter Dread.

Sabine.

The precious creature Chavias was protecting.

Breathtaking Sabine who dances in snowflakes and invites danger into her bed. A wondrously gorgeous creature who seemed innocent of all evil in the world.

Deiti wanted to hunt her down and steal her powers until the innocent girl was seared from the inside out.

A dead, hollow, shell like the rest of them. I’m not letting that happen.

Strangely, that was when he happened to hear Deiti’s half-crazed, sing song voice humming as she came up from the dungeons.

Probably watching other creatures be tortured.

He’d seen her go down there on more than one occasion. Seeming amused by the torment of more vulnerable beings.

She’s never been down there when I was. But he didn’t deceive himself to pretend it was because she had feelings for him. She’s likely worried about being tainted by the amount of my blood Okine expels.

Too much mess for her.

Deiti prided herself on being appealing. Immaculate.

Now, she walked to the bars of Chavias’ cell. Pushing between two of the bars of his cage, she stuck her face between them.

“Perhaps if you were nicer, Chavias. I’d give you another taste of all this.” She gestured provocatively down her body at the peach-colored dress. Now seeming a bit too small for her overly abundant curves. Cinched around her waist, but barely containing her hips and breasts.

As she intended. He guessed bitterly.

Red ringlets were piled atop her head, leaving a few dangling strands to frame her face. She clutched the top of her bodice and pulled it down to expose her flesh to his view. Sending one ripe dark nipple popping from the top to rest over the hem. Her creamy breast swelling above it, released from the fabric.

She leaned forward and wiggled her shoulders. Causing the other breast to spill out and dangle overtop the ruffled peach. Smashed against the cold bars. She wiggled side to side, dragging it over.

“Come to me Chavias…” She beckoned. Sliding her skirt up her leg to expose curved calves and lush thighs and a small peek at the red curls he’d sunk into before. Knowing the softness would ease all his pain. Knowing she could drain his magic and make all that energy raging under his skin abate, he was sorely tempted to give her what she wanted.

If he dropped his pants and pressed his hard length through the bars, he knew she would happily back against it. Stroking him until he spilled into her. He knew how delicious her inner walls would feel. Gripping him every time he entered her.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned to press her plump ass against the bars, leaning forward and twisting to look at him, Offering him her hole.

He was already ready. Well beyond hard at the sight of her, despite his loathing for her. He knew he could expend his rage on her. Perhaps hurt her enough to exact some vengeance.

But surrendering his power to her would only bring her more gratification than she deserved.

Power she’ll use to destroy my brethren.

That tiny taste of vengeance was nothing compared to what he knew he could have with that key.

It promises so much more…

Blue Lark Guild, Dread Hideout

SAVAGE JAXSON

Savage had been watching ColdKill all eve.

His gaze predatory.

The man’s hair was black peppered at his forehead and near his ears. Echoed in his bushy gray brows and the sparse patch of whiskers on his chin.

He looks like a weasel. But of course, Savage knew he was. Savage had long suspected ColdKill was disloyal to the Guild. Only faithful to himself.

And Savage had thrown down a gauntlet for the man when he’d boasted in the Rum Runnel about his intent to thieve Danbury’s coaches. Knowing ColdKill would skitter to Danbury.

And I knew Danbury would run straight to Radix to save him.

Savage still considered ColdKill running to report Savage’s movements as lack of loyalty. Which needs rewarded with killing. Despite his dark thoughts, as was characteristic for him, he was casually leaning on the corner of the counter. Nonchalantly assessing the room.

But Dimurah was onto him.

Circling like a vulture. Repeatedly filling his tankard. Trying to keep me busy while she maintains a careful eye on me.

She cast him deep blue-eyed looks. Wary.

In typical fashion he cut straight through the hints and warning looks, catching her arm as she rounded the counter. “You don’t want me to kill him?”

“I never want you to kill anyone!”

“I need to kill him. He’s a traitor who could’ve gotten many of my men killed.”

And me.

She licked her bottom lip and drew it in to bite it.

His eyes narrowed slightly on the movement. Momentarily distracted.

“Don’t kill him.”

“Persuade me not to.” Ice blue eyes levelled at her.

She huffed and stomped off.

What’s she mad about, now? His blonde brows knitted slightly as he watched her back. Clearly even she has no idea why he shouldn’t be killed. No argument to provide.

He noted the faint sway of her hips beneath the oversized cloak. Which couldn’t possibly be less flattering.

When she returned, he caught her again.

Leaning off the counter to stand over her. Tilting to whisper near her ear. “How long do you plan to use my every crime as a wall betwixt us?”