I leaned back, tapping a finger to my lip. “Steward, you say? That’s interesting. Last I heard, Rottbarry was a smoldering heap.”
The man reddened, sweat dotting his lip. “While I may have lost my home, I haven’t surrendered my title, nor the authority vested in me by High Ruler Richwell.”
“And where is this high ruler you speak of?” It wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of him if he truly wanted Serafina back.
“Away. Someplace safe.”
Ah. Not a threat then. Except for the way the steward kept eyeing Serafina. He’d soon realize he’d harassed the wrong woman. She may be a pain in my ass, but she wasmineto antagonize. And dragons didn’t share.
“Isn’t that convenient. The official who gave you this authority issomeplace. Rather vague, don’t you think?”
The vulture straightened. “Vague or otherwise, the fact remains, this slave belongs to the high ruler.”
“Sera, is this true?” I asked, confident of her answer.
She kept her eyes locked on the so-called steward. “I have no idea what he is talking about. However, he does bear a striking resemblance to a cowardly deviant who tried to murder me.”
My dragon rose with a growl and curled molten claws around my ribs. “Well, now. Thatisinteresting.”
At this, the steward appeared to lose patience, the muscle beneath his eye twitching furiously. “Serafina. Enough of this. He waits for you. You must come with me. Now.”
With his snarled order, the man’s pupils overwhelmed the whites of his eyes, turning them wholly black. A trick of the light? Maybe demon possession?
The moment he reached for Serafina, my dragon flameexploded beneath my sternum, threatening to tear out of me. Razor-sharp teeth designed to maim and dismember erupted from my gums. Iron coated my tongue before I even realized I bit him.
His high-pitched scream rattled my sensitive eardrums. Needle-Prick stumbled back, blood gushing from his shredded arm.
One with my dragon, I surged forward and stood over him, snarling. “Do. Not. Touch. Her. Serafina isn’t yours.”She is mine, my inner beast snarled.
“He’ll kill you for this,” the steward screeched. “There’s no place you can hide. He’s coming, and when he arrives, you will all suffer.”
Despite my rage, I almost laughed. I’d witnessed firsthand the bravery of the Puritan’s mighty leader. Serafina had nothing to fear.
From behind me, Serafina appeared at my side. She glared down at the man. “Flark you, Mortis.” Her dainty foot reared back and slammed into the coward’s genitals.
Mortis let out a howl that had many patrons clapping their hands over their ears.
The thought of Serafina being at the bastard’s mercy had me drawing a deep breath. My chest warmed, flames rising in my throat.
Slim fingers pressed against my mouth, their spicy fragrance tempting me to nip them. “Thorne, you can’t. Not like this,” she warned in a low voice. “There are laws against murder. We can’t afford that kind of attention.”
Her gentle curves pressed against my harder angles. The soft timber of her words was a cool dip into a soothing spring. I glanced away from Mortis to discover every eye in the tavern watching us.
I faced the crowd and held up my hands. “Bastard fondled my wife. Can’t blame a man for defending his girl.”
Those curious stares turned into glares of persecution. Just like that, Mortis was tried, judged, and sentenced by the inebriated bar thugs. The toughest assembly in the land.
“Pervert,” a voice shouted.
“Yeah,” said another. “We don’t need his kind here, molesting our women.”
Chairs scraped, mugs slammed down on tables.
Angry voices rose around us. Those closest tossed a couple of well-aimed kicks the steward’s way. One hocked a wad of spit at the simpering man.
Surrounded by the enraged crowd, Mortis dragged his slimy carcass off the floor. Once on his feet, he scrambled for the door, holding his crotch. “You will pay for this insult.” He cast a wild-eyed glance at the room. “All of you. When he comes, you will pay.”
Once the door closed behind the sniveling bastard, the patrons dispersed, returning to their libations.
