King of the Seditious
Monstrous

Adrea sent Joe in. But he still favored his crippled arm and was extraordinarily little help with anything other than clearing soiled tables.

Somehow, Dimurah endured the evening. After carefully persuading the assassins out of Winter Haven for the night, she turned the lock with a relieved breath. But when she spun to put her back to the door, she was horrified to see three men had crept in the back door and now wove around the counter. Heading for her purposefully.

“Stop!” She shouted. Lifting a staying hand.

Acting as though they didn’t hear her, they descended. Faces dark and mouths slack with drink.

She realized the danger she was in, but it was too late. She’d locked herself in. Twirling, she tried to flip the lock.

But one man grabbed her ankles and flipped them out from under her.

Making her land roughly on her stomach. Tossing her arms up to protect her face.

He slid her back. Dragging her to the middle of the floor. They cackled delightedly. One was unhooking his belt. Another grabbed the bodice of her dress and rent it down the front.

Exposing her, while she shrieked.

Trying to hold her dress together, she looked around desperately for help. There were no weapons in reach, and she knew her bodyguards would be waiting in the courtyard.

If she were very long, they’d come check on her. But by then, the damage would be done.

“Please!” She cried out. Tears streaming her face. “Please, don’t!”

But they laughed. Another man tearing her skirt up the front.

“Dimurah?” A husky voice asked.

Her eyes flew to the rafters. Spotting Savage perched on a high beam.

Crouched with his elbows resting on knees, he pressed the tip of a black stone blade against his finger.

She looked at him breathing shakily, and terrified.

“Are we done with this teaching me a lesson in your independence?” He wasn’t looking at her.

Unable to see her, barely clad and their vicious hands pawing her any longer. He struggled to await her answer.

The men were laughing. “Come, Savage Jack! There’s plenty o’ ’er to go round…least fer now.”

“Jaxson!” Her throat arched for her to scream his name. Desperate for help.

It was all the invitation he needed. His boots thudded to the wooden floor as he dropped from the rafters.

A man next to him skittered sideways. “How the devil?” He looked up at the distance to the ceiling. A disbelieving expression marking his face.

Savage stuck the blade he’d held in his waistband. Putting it away. He kicked the man trying to climb over Dimurah, away from her.

“Ye said ye were done with ’er!” He whined, backing up.

Savage chased his step primally. “I’ve changed my mind.”

A man behind him charged him. Curved dagger drawn.

Hearing the swish of cloth, Savage stepped aside and caught the man’s wrist. Guiding it into the stomach of the man in-front of him.

That one shouted in protest but had no time to react.

You’re too late. Savage jerked the man’s wrist to the side. Dragging the blade through vital organs. He then twisted the man’s hand from the hilt. Ripping it free to slash the throat of the man wielding the dagger.

The third man who’d been trying to mount Dimurah stood. Waving his hands to ward Savage away.

Savage let the two next to him fall as his fingers found the grooves of the dagger hilt. Aiming for the third man.

“I’ve no weapon!” He lifted his hands in supplication.

“I doubt she’d agree.” Savage jerked his head toward Dimurah. Dropping to his knees, he turned the blade sideways and used the full force of his weight to drive it into the man’s groin. Following it up with another jab from between his legs and drawing the blade up around front, as Savage stood.

He’ll not touch a woman the like again.

Blood poured from the man’s nether region in a slosh that revealed at least one artery had been cut.

He can bleed out. Savage tilted his head as he watched the man slowly dying. Face unreadable.

“Jaxson.” Dimurah sat up. Sobbing as she covered her face.

His blue eyes spun to her, and his face crumpled. Why did you want this?

I don’t understand humans. He leaned over her. Folding her dress closed over her breasts as he swept her into his arms.

“Do you want to go to your hut?” He asked gently, heading for the door.

“No.” She sobbed. “With you. I want to go with you!”

Okay. Anywhere you want. He nodded.

Carrying her out the back door he told her bodyguards to go in and clean up. “I’ll take care of her.”

They eyed him warily, but when he barked, they skittered around to the back of the alehouse to do as he commanded.

Dimurah blinked slowly awake. Vaguely realizing it was now daylight and she was within the familiar walls of Savage’s formidable tent. She spotted him crouched near the doorway, slivers of sunlight slashing his tanned face and over one glinting blue eye.

As her bleary gaze focused on his profile, his head whipped making kill beads clink in his hair, as he pierced her with icy blue eyes. As if sensing her study. She saw the reckoning on his face before he spoke. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“No.” She gnawed her lip. Eyes welling again.

Sighing, he tipped her chin up with a finger. “I’ve tried to tell you for years. But you thought it was merely my ego or some sense of possessiveness.”

“You are possessive.”

“No. I’m protective. But I want them to believe I’m possessive enough to kill them, for even looking at you. Otherwise, you’re unsafe. I’ve tried to tell you!”

Time and time again!

“I think this may be the most you’ve ever spoken in one setting.” She murmured.

I’m very sure that’s true.

“I’m furious!” He admitted. Rising to pace the tent.