Fuming with anger towards the giant who’d dragged her through the hall and into the private sector of Bilé’s home, she avoided looking at Flannery or the dark bruising around his left eye. Angry at her own vulnerability and inability to protect herself, she found it difficult to see Flannery’s injuries without wanting to kick her own hind end. As he jerked on her arm, she wanted to lash out at him. Even if I was foolish, it doesn’t give him the right to drag me around like a child. I did nothing wrong. I’m allowed to dance with whoever asks. How was I supposed to know he would dare attack me? I should’ve demanded my mother teach me how to defend myself. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened. As soon as they entered the dimly lit room, she blinked rapidly. Moving from the brightly lit hall into the shadowy depths would’ve had her tripping over an ottoman if it hadn’t been for Flannery’s hold on her arm.
“What in Hades happened to you, boy?” The amused sound from her left had her turning that direction. Sitting behind a black lacquer desk, Bilé sipped from a crystal goblet of steaming blood red liquid. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Braelyn wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly what the God of the Underworld drank at his leisure. While the man was her god-father, and uncle by blood, her contact with him was minor – usually from a distance when he visited her home to give her mother a new mission.
“A bit of a tussle with one of the lower lieutenants over the girl. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Bilé’s smile faltered then disappeared. “Who dared to touch her?” The question ended with a roar. Flinching, she tried to back away. Her nerves already overwrought by the fight screamed at her to run, to hide from this new source of danger.
“Not to worry, I took care of him.” Flannery’s answer was abrupt but she could tell he was still pissed his brother had stepped in and broken up the fight.
Bilé turned his attention to her. “Are you all right, little one?” She gave a brief nod, deciding against mentioning her brief trip to the court’s healer. With her side bandaged and a bit of clever arranging with the folds of her dress, she hopefully looked the same as when she’d arrived. “I don’t think he was truly after me. He wanted…Flannery is it?” She jerked her head towards the man next to her. When Bilé nodded, she continued. “Before he dragged me out of the room, he said something about provoking the godling.”
Fire rose in the depths of Bilé’s eyes. “Ramses?”
She licked her lips and shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable under his direct scrutiny. More than anything she wanted to find out what the God wanted and to return home, where jealous demons didn’t attack her. “I don’t remember his name, God-father…”
Flannery interrupted. “I dealt with it, Bilé. He won’t forget next time. If he does, I’ll kill him.” The need for continued violence rolled off the man next to her.
Frustrated with the situation in general, she yanked her arm away from him. “You’ve escorted me here. Why don’t you just go away now? Don’t you have other people to beat up?” she snapped.
A low growl erupted from his chest. Then she thought she heard him mutter something about beating her ass. Braelyn’s hackles rose at the thought even as betraying moisture coated her nether lips. Her nipples hardened against her top. What in Hades is wrong with me? Moving further away from him, she inched closer to the wall using the shadows to hide from him – the last thing she wanted was for him see her arousal.
“Quit fucking cowering. I’m not going to touch you!” His nose flared as he dragged her back towards him. He paused as if he scented something.
She cringed. Surely he can’t smell me? He was a godling, not a demon. Only demons or faeries can scent arousal. I’m safe.
“But then again maybe you’d like it, little banshee? To have me spread you over my lap and warm your ass? To submit to me?” He spoke so low she barely heard him.
©Dakota Trace All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.