FOREVER KNIGHTS: #12 Primal Intent

Farthington Hall, Paladines

RHYERS

“After all your lies you don’t deserve my attention.” Ebony tossed her black hair defiantly as she gave him her back.

What are you up to now, Hoyden?

Rhyers caught her elbow. “Where are you going?”

Nowhere good. He was certain.

“To get your precious information.” She spat.

Now, just how do you intend to do that?

“How so?” His eyes narrowed as he chose his words carefully.

“Contrary to how you see me, Bodin, men do find me attractive.”

I just bet they do. The thought had him scanning the room and assessing the number of eyes following her. Damn them.

With shining dark hair and her petite frame accentuating the rounded curves of her behind and hips and the pert line of her breasts visible over the low cut of her Mane Country styled gown she was commanding attention. Hungry attention. She had a sweep of dark hair piled atop her head and pinned with opalescent pearls creating a sheen of brightness. Her brown eyes were round and thick lashed. And currently her lips were tight in a thin line. Indicating her annoyance.

Far too many are eying her like a starved man’s last meal. He winced.

She jerked her arm from his grip and stalked across the ballroom. Walking to their target. Sir Nightingale.

He was of average height. But trim and his face was cut in sharp lines that Rhyers assumed women would find attractive. He had a splash of thick brown hair and dancing brown eyes.

He looks like an irritating bastard. Rhyers thought. Feeling a flicker of ire.

She trailed a small hand Nightingale’s muscled bicep.

Nightingale’s head shot to look at the sudden touch and his eyes lighted on the pretty face turned up toward him.

What is she playing at?

Despite Rhyers’ acute hearing there were too many voices for him to zero in on theirs. He could catch only a word here and there of Ebony’s lilting voice. Not enough to tell what she’s saying.

What is she saying! The suspense was making his palms sweat and his heart race.

He grunted in frustration. His arms crossing over his chest. He caught the flash of her even white teeth as she giggled at something the man said.

What could he possibly have said that’s that amusing?

She’s faking it. Performing. Isn’t she?

Her eyes trailed up Nightingale’s fine form and the fitted cut of his dresscoat.

A bit too lovingly.

And I suddenly want to sink my fist into his nose.

Ebony gripped her skirt in one hand. Swinging it flirtatiously as she talked. Nearly childlike as she gestured animatedly. Capturing the man’s attention.

Rhyers shifted uncomfortably. He’s clearly as dumb as he looks or he’d see it for a woman’s ploy.

I would. He suddenly wondered if Ebony had ever spoken to him with such tactics. His green eyes rolled up as he tried to remember. It wouldn’t have worked. He decided. Jaw set.

Sir Nightingale ran a hand through the wisps dark hair near her face. Moving it over her shoulder. His thumb brushing over her bottom lip in a deliberately disguised touch.

Son-of-a-bitch. Rhyers’ feet tingled. Wanting out of his boots. His temperature was skyrocketing.

I maneuver better barefoot. And I want to stomp on this man. He wanted to fight. Wanted to call him out.

He was beginning to sweat and a glimpse at his arm revealed a green drip seeping from his sleeve. He wiped it quickly with the black cloth and willed himself to calm. Why am I so aggravated? He sent a furtive look around the room. Knowing if he ruptured into scales in this crowded Ballroom it was going to cause dangerous panic.

Calm, Rhyers!

She’s only my ward. He told himself. Tossing a strand of black hair from his face with a whip of his head he focused on the pair. Feeling his lip curling. Pale green eyes zoned in on Nightingale. Rhyers’ jaw ticked furiously, teeth clenched so hard.

Ebony strolled back toward Rhyers. Brows lifted and a cocky half smile on her lips.

She’s found the information. He cooled. She was only doing the job.

What the hell did I think she was doing?

She turned on a toe to stand next to him. Speaking out of the side of her mouth. “He’s been staying here. With his young aunt…Lady Farthington.” She revealed with a flourish.

Lady Farthington?

I didn’t know the woman even had family!

Rhyers’ looked at her in surprise. “He’s living here?”

“Here.” She nodded with a slight head tilt of self-satisfaction.

She’s quite self-satisfied. Perhaps overly so.

“You better wipe that smug expression off your face.”

“Or what, Bodin?”

His head shot up at the challenge. He took a long step, turning smoothly in-front of her. Taking her hand as he forcefully led her onto the floor as he backed up.

Come. It’s time we talk.

“What are you doing?” She blinked round brown eyes.

Like a scared deer.

You should be scared, Little Beauty.

I’m thinking of taking a bite of you.

“Talking to you.” He said tonelessly as he stared at the dancefloor. Guiding her effortlessly through the throng of people.

“You said ‘to’ not with.” She pointed out. Reluctantly letting him lead her to avoid a scene.

Because that’s what I meant.

You’ve done enough talking.

“So, I did.” He jerked her hand, making her stumble against him. He slid his thigh between hers and stepped to the side. Forcing her to move with him. As one.

She gasped. Brown eyes going huge.

His grip tightened on her small hands. As he began to move her over the dancefloor.