FOREVER KNIGHTS: #2 Rise of the King of Assassins
Strawberry Everything

“What would you like to try first?”

Her eyes slid from him to the table and to his delight, she began rounding it. Thoughtfully eyeing the food as she strolled along. Hand trailing over the wood surface and the rounded rims of the platters.

“Much of it I’ve tried afore.” She murmured.

“Really?” He frowned. “Most comes from the islands.”

“I came from an island.”

“You said you’d only been there awhile.”

“This is true…”

She picked up a softly furred peach. “What’s this one?”

“So, sweet.” He murmured. Nodding for her to take a bite.

She sunk in her even teeth and the sweet meat moistened her lips.

Bast felt a growl rumbling up his throat.

She noticed some tankards on the table. She peered in one and saw the rich, dark color of the wine. Tipping some into a wooden cup she lifted it for a sip.

“And what is this?”

“Strawberry wine.”

“Strawberry?” She murmured around a mouthful of the liquid. Her eyes went huge and she spat what was left of her third gulp back in the cup. Setting it down as though it burned her.

“What?” He frowned.

“Are you allergic?”

“In a sense.” She gave him a panicked look and her eyes skid to the door.

She wants to run out because she doesn't like strawberries? He was utterly confused. He was going out of his way to be a gentleman. And she's still going to run away?

“No, don’t go.” He urged. “I did all this for you. Please stay and try some. You assured me you would.”

She gnawed her lip. Breath hitching, as she looked back at the glass of wine anxiously.

Assessing some risk.

What risk? He was awash with curiosity.

“What’s wrong with it?”

She frowned and her brow furrowed fearfully.

“What is it?” He rushed to her side. Taking her hands. To his surprise she let him grip her fingers, lightly stroking the knuckles with his thumb. “What can I do?”

She worried her lip and eyes roved his face as she tossed over what to do. Then abruptly her expression melted. Her head lolled back and when it dropped forward, her eyes were liquid. She licked away what remained of the wine on her lips and her head lowered. Eyes intent on him.

I know that look. He was startled. But I’ve never seen it on her.

Her lips parted breathlessly, damp and red from the drink. She slid one of her hands free to flatten against his chest. In less than a second it molded over his body trailing up. She stood on her toes to reach the back of his neck.

He noted faintly her smell had changed. Lending a more poignant sweetness to the air. Some hormone she released. A scent he liked.

A pheromone. Dizzying his senses.

And hers, apparently.

Her hands were roving his body like a wanton.

And I'm certainly not complaining!

What’s happening? He frowned at her. Feeling his pupils dilating as he stared at her. He shook his head trying to dispense that scent filling his nostrils like an aphrodisiac.

What is she doing to me?

How does she suddenly smell so good? Far better than wildflowers.

Standing on her toes she pulled his head down to her to brush his lips with hers.

He growled into her mouth and didn’t miss a beat, wrapping his arms around her waist to jerk her against him. Head sinking to her as her tongue darted to tease his lips. He took her mouth hungrily. Tasting the strawberry still on her.

Strawberry…He barely registered.

The kiss was wild, passionate and filled with abandon. Her hands roamed his chest and back as freely as his caressed over her.

She was matching him touch for touch and his body was heatedly responding. Growing hot to the touch.

“You’re so warm.” She murmured against his mouth.

“Yea. You’re making me that way.”

“I want more…” She said greedily. Catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging lightly.

He reached up and caught the neckline of her dress. A heartbeat before wrenching it apart her hands landed on the back of his fists.

Eyes stormy and a panicked look written over her face she stood paralyzed. With a cry she fled the room, clutching her skirts to run up the stairs.

Staring after her, he numbly turned back to the table. Tilting the glass and peering into it, awestruck. She’d not drank enough to be intoxicated by the drink itself.

Strawberries. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was making a mental note to replace more.

Wine. Berries. Pastries. Cakes. Jam. Anything I can get my hands on.

I’m going to need more. He turned and stared at the shadow of the stairs beyond the doorway. A slow methodical smile spreading across his face. Much, much, more.