Page 32 of The Endless Dance

“How dare you raise a hand against my woman?”

His voice is quiet. Dangerously so. I swing my eyes to Lord Draekoh and openly gape. His amethyst eyes glow with his silent fury, but at his shoulders, pure molten, ever-moving liquid light unfurls. Wings. The High Lord has wings?

Draekoh stands, body trembling, wings stretching taut and wide in an impressive display. My mind immediately projects an image of a male peacock shaking its tail feathers in an exotic dance for its female, and I almost break into hysterics at the image of the High Lord doing just that. But his expression is enough to restrain me.

“My Lord!” Bjuum gasps and drops to his knees, even as Rita pulls Frieda to her feet and ushers her a few steps back. “I didn’t—”

Lightning crackles and a dozen bolts strike at Bjuum, hissing and sizzling as they zap the ground inches from the male’s trembling limbs. Bjuum whimpers, and I sneer at the bastard. How does it feel? I want to scream at him. How does it feel to be small and weak in the face of one who would harm you?

Draekoh’s form blinks, like a hologram, for a moment, as if in his fury he cannot keep his body completely present. As he stalks closer, an imposing force, he raises his hand. The lightning darting across the ceiling hisses as it returns to its master’s hand. There, the bolts merge into one long, zapping sword.

“My Lord, please,” Bjuum pleads, tears trickling down his pale cheeks. “I am your loyal servant. She is just a hu—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his statement. Lord Draekoh swings his sword down in one smooth motion. In the time that I blink, there is a thud, and Bjuum’s head is on the floor, completely severed from his body.

The entire room comes to a complete standstill. I don’t think anybody breathes. I know I don’t. Part of me wants to rejoice; Frieda was free of this horrible male. Another part of me wants to vomit as I spy veins at Bjuum’s empty neck desperately trying to pump blood to his brain, only to spurt listlessly onto the floor.

Questions filled an even larger part of me. Why would Lord Draekoh go to so much trouble over me? Was it a crime to interfere with another male’s woman? Were we not the lowest of beings on this land?

The sword in Draekoh’s hand dissipates, and he cracks his neck to the side. Slowly, he turns to face the shocked onlookers.

“Today’s gathering has been cancelled,” he announces, fury lacing his every word. The fae needn’t be told twice. Chairs scrape as they dart hastily from the room. I spy Lord Sol dragging a hysterical Akari away as he casts concerned looks over his shoulder at Draekoh.

Guards come forward quietly, and while one picks up the head, four others each pick up a limp limb and remove the body from the room. Rita, Frieda and now Laska stand meekly behind me, frozen in place.

“Get your belongings when you are well enough and move into the staff quarters,” Draekoh says, somewhat gently, to Frieda. “You and Bjuums other woman will be under my permanent employ from now on.”

Frieda lowers her head as she cries in earnest. “Th-thank you, my Lord,” she stutters through her woes. Laska and Rita hesitate, glancing once more at me, before they, too, depart.

All at once, I realise I am alone with the High Lord.

Slowly, I turn to face him. I gasp. The hairs along my arms stand on end as the heat of Draekoh’s body merges with mine. His nose is inches from mine, and I swear he inhales deeply as I exhale. Gods, I hope I brushed my teeth this morning. Did I? He isn’t cringing, leaning back, or disgusted.

In one swift motion, Draekoh reaches out and grabs my arms. The world flashes and blinks, and my feet fall through the ground before almost instantly finding it again. Nausea racks my body, and I stumble forward, expecting the High Lord to catch me as I fall. He doesn’t. I tilt forward quickly, eyes springing open in alarm as I go down.

“Oof!” I groan as my palms, then torso, slam against the floor. Luckily, the carpet cushions my fall. I roll onto my back, fingers trailing mindlessly through the soft texture of the rug. Before I get the chance to take in my surroundings, Lord Draekoh is there again. He reaches out a hand and waits expectantly as I mull over whether I would allow the asshole to help me up or not. With a huff, I throw my hand into his. His grip is warm and firm, and he pulls me to my feet effortlessly. I gasp as my head spins again at the rapid movement.

Draekoh turns my hand in his, and I blink, looking down at his hand cupping mine from beneath. His thumb brushes my fingers back when they curl instinctively. I raise my eyes to his. They no longer glow, yet they are just as hard as ever. He continues to eye my palm, head tilted to the side, when I feel a sharp sting.

“Ouch!” I shriek. Looking down, I realise Draekoh has cut me. A thin line of blossoming crimson bleeds from the base of my thumb to the bottom of my pinkie. Furious, I try to tear my hand away from his, but he holds firm.

He murmurs in a language that is guttural yet passionate. My eyes dart back to his face, and I forget my stinging flesh as I watch his soft mouth work the words like magic. I blink as I realise that is exactly what he is doing. Something cool and solid is pressed against my throbbing hand. I hiss, hand curling on instinct. Draekoh uses both of his hands to wrap around mine and the sharp dagger he has placed in it as his voice grows deeper and raspier with each strange word he speaks. I gasp as an intense, blinding light erupts from between our entwined fingers. My skin burns, but I can’t tell if it is painful or pleasant. Then, in a blink, the light disappears, and the room is silent.

Heart pounding, I glance at Draekoh. He gazes intently back. Then he releases my hands, which slacken on instinct. The dagger falls to my feet, where it bounces for a moment before stilling.

“This is Galloria,” Draekoh says softly.

“What?” I say stupidly. Glancing between him and the dagger. Surely, he couldn’t mean… “Yes,” he nods seriously. “Galloria is the name of this dagger. She is now bound to you.”

I blink, then hold my hands up in front of me. I wave them nervously. “You are making absolutely no sense.”

Draekoh folds his arms across his chest and leans back casually. A small grin tugs at his mouth. “Call for her.”

I gape at him. What was the male talking about now? Did I call for the stupid blade? Was he playing me? Would I say it’s—her—name only for him to laugh in my face when nothing happened?

I harden my features. Fuck it. Fuck him. I would not let him shame me. But damn it, I was fucking curious.

I stick my chin up into the air and hold my hand out in front of me.