“Yes, I would like to purchase all the food here today. The impish of Imperia will sleep with their bellies full tonight!”
At least three seconds pass before loud shouting and cheers ring out. Everyone delighted with the promise of a meal.
“Forgive me, bonded, I did not know. I will not boast of how hard my giant cock stands for you. The impish of Imperia will remain clueless, however, when we’re at our lodgings, I make no promises.”
He looks genuinely remorseful, and it's not his fault I'm red-faced. His culture should be celebrated,even if it involves showing off your very,verylarge erection.
In a wink, silence settles in the marketplace. The impish pushing as far back as they can so they're pressed into the side of the stone wall streets. The sound of hoofs clip-cloping echoes all around. Several horses walk toward us, a glittering carriage following behind. I've not seen anything like it before. The carriage looks fit for royalty, but my impression of the imp sitting inside is less than. Lacquered in red, etched with intricate gold details that catch the light. It is magnificent. The mounted guards garbed in the same deep red the Emperor wore earlier.Suspicions confirmed for who's inside it then. The carriage stops next to us, the horses as pale as the sun above them, their manes barely catching the breeze. The window curtain shifts only slightly, showing the familiar hooked nose and leather skin of the Emperor.
“I see you took it upon yourself to leave your room,” the Emperor snaps. “I do not believe those were part of the conditions granted.”
I don't like anything about this. The way he silences his people before they even have a chance. This is not new; how they respond to him, that behaviour is learned. He's shown them they need to be fearful of him and his power. I should bite my tongue, and normally I would, but the sight of a small imp, around the size of a five year old, cowering as their mother tries to comfort them is enough to anger me.The impish have been mistreated. So I do the one thing I shouldn’t. I talk back to the Emperor.
In front of his guards.
In front of his people.
In front of my bonded.
I only hope it doesn’t blow up in my face.
“There was no agreement which involved staying in our room,” I say, voice echoing in the silence.
“I changed the terms,” he sneers.
“Well then, how were we to know? If you want to be respect?—”
“I. Am. Respected,” he spits.
I stare at him, leaving the words hanging in the air. Not a sound can be heard. The people stay silent, while only minutes ago they were laughing and cheering for Bellator.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence. I'm sure the people appreciate it.” You can see the anger rising as the crowd remains subdued, further proving my theory.
“Take care, Bellator.” The carriage curtain moving back in place. “Enjoy the time you have with your bonded.”
His words hang in the air, a very vocal threat of the things that are yet to come.
Chapter 21
Bellator
Opening the door to our room, I step aside, gesturing for Rosie to enter first. I would argue that even against the most skilled warrior, I am talented in the art of reading expressions, and right now, with the scowl etched on Rosie’s face, I don't need to use the skill at all. She is furious about the spectacle in the market.
“Bond me,” she snaps. “Bond me now, let's do the ritual.”
Quickly closing the door, Steve pours us all cups of water while I sit on the couch, observing as she paces back and forth.
“Soulbound, I wish it were that simple.”
“Well, why isn’t it? What makes it so difficult that we can't just do it now and have it done with?” She stomps her foot, her bottom lip trembling.
“Come, little female. Do not let your eye balls water.”
It’s not often I breathe a sigh of relief when a female’s eyes water in front of me. Emotions can be a wonderful thing, and having Rosie react like this means more than she could ever know.
Somewhere, not as deep down as I first thought, she cares for both my brother and I. Steve’s less than average looks, and my current status as a prisoner of Imperia has not swayed her opinion of us. We may be fated, but she could always choose to walk away.
She shuffles over to me, and I reach out my hand, letting her curl onto my lap. Pressing her face into my cloak, her stilted breath stopping Steve in his tracks, awkwardly holding three glasses. My hand leisurely rubs her back, gliding over her shapely hips and thick thighs. Her breathing starts to even out, and with one stilted deep breath, she sits up, and I tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
