His blue eyes blinked. I grinned.
We both stalled, watching as a piece of silky black hair floated down through the air between us, landing like a feather onto the ground next to the identical section of black hair already lying there from my head.
The vain lord lifted his gaze and scowled. “How about we don’t butcher each other’s hair? I think we’re even now.”
“Agreed.” I chuckled and shoved away from him.
Each clang of our swords was invigorating, pulsing inside my veins, when, before with Phoenix, I’d just been going through the motions. With Lord Belshazzar, my cheeks flushed, not only from exertion but also from excitement. The Overlord kept me on my toes, pushing me harder…and then harder. My blue eyes sparkled with merriment, only matched by his own, the lord smirking with each dirty trick I tried on him—and failed at.
Then I tripped backward over a downed rock.
A sudden smack on my ass kept me from falling backward, my eyes widening as I stumbled to a stop, amazed to still be on my feet. The lord hadn’t appeared to move from in front of me, except for his long black hair that mysteriously blew to the side in a strong breeze. I pointed one of my swords at him, muttering in shock, “Yeah, none of that shit, my lord.”
The Overlord snorted, roguish allure dancing in his frosty eyes. He teased in his deep tone, “I’ll let you fall on your ass next time, your majesty.”
I rotated my wrists.
Christ. I hadn’t had this much fun in a while.
With a grin etched on my face, I charged him again. The lord met me blow for blow, the jarring in my arms satisfying. Moisture dotted my brow and his, both of us working up a healthy sweat. It was a perfect dance of battle.
Until it wasn’t.
I grunted when I missed the kick aimed at the back of my legs. No smack on my ass saved me this time.
I went down on my back but quickly rolled to the side when his sword followed me down. I bounced back up to my feet, meeting his next blow. I tried not to pout. I really did.
Lord Belshazzar chuckled quietly, even as he kept his attack steady. “You asked for it, Gwen.”
“Shut up,” I grouched. I swung again.
Hell, I was already dirty.
I dropped to the ground in a flurry of movement, catching him by surprise and knocking his balance off kilter, his swing way off. I shoved both feet right into the front of his thighs as hard as I could. I was back on my feet before he even landed on the ground. I smirked down at him, relishing the look of revulsion on his face when he looked up from the blood-mud, just barely catching himself from face-planting into the mess—now in a push-up position.
I mumbled, “Oops.”
A sardonic black brow lifted. “Oops? Really?”
I nodded. “Oops.”
He stared, his lips lifting into a grin, his eyes heated with playful pleasure. “You’re going to pay for that.”
Fuck me. In the best possible way, please.
An embarrassing giggle escaped my lips when I was suddenly swordless and lifted off my feet by an equally swordless Overlord. My back slammed into the wall closest to us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I pretended to scowl, but the effect failed as a burst of laughter leapt up from deep within my belly.
I shook my head, my white smile brash in the cave of doom. “Why didn’t you stop yourself from falling?”
“My reasons are my own.” Lord Belshazzar tipped his face closer to mine, his head tilting to the side in concentrated thought. His minty scent was welcome, and I pulled him even closer. Our lips brushed together at the closeness, and he blinked, back to reality, our racing heartbeats beginning to beat as one—already. He whispered in a husky tone, “You’re actually very skilled with the sword. Against anyone else, you would have taken them down with that move.”
“My grandfather made sure I had the best mentors.” I moaned softly in complaint when he didn’t kiss me. “What are you waiting for?”
He tipped his head to the right, his eyes still on mine with his lips brushing my mouth softly as he spoke in irritation. “For Orin to move his fucking ass out of here.”
I jerked my attention to the side, catching the ordinarily stoic guard’s expression—the man standing directly next to us. Apparently, we’d landed right beside him. Complete shock radiated off him in waves before he quickly took three steps away from us—the expression wasn’t disappearing though. It looked firmly planted on his face, frozen that way. I hadn’t even detected he was there, my attention entirely on the lord I’d wrapped myself around.
“I know it’s been forever since you’ve seen me want to fuck someone, Orin. But that is not what I meant,” Lord Belshazzar stated slowly. He cast his blue eyes on his loyal bodyguard, his gaze narrowing to dangerous slits. “If you won’t leave us alone, then go stand over there by Phoenix, for fuck’s sake.”
His mouth bobbed for a second. “My apologies, Lord Belshazzar.” Any shock he may have been expressing was quickly gone, his normal fearsome, professional persona back in action. “Due to your new desire for privacy, may I make a suggestion, my lord?”
Lord Belshazzar ground his teeth together, his fingers gripping my thighs tighter with restraint. “If you must.”
Orin flicked a finger toward the entrance and picked up his sword from where the lord had tossed ours, his voice quiet, “I believe someone is coming.”
Chapter Eight
Gwynnore
Lord Belshazzar jolted against me, his eyes narrowing at the entrance. I couldn’t hear shit, but he was quickly setting me down on my feet and muttering curse words under his breath at his lack of attention. Our heartbeats separated instantly. When he stopped grumbling and started straightening his clothes, I did the same.
I grabbed my swords off the ground and twitched one at Phoenix, now able to hear someone getting closer. They were still a ways off, but they were headed in this direction—the ceremonial chamber, the only room at this end of the stronghold—their shoes clicking loudly on the stone.
My head tilted, listening to the whistling.
My eyes narrowed at the old, familiar tune.
A song I hadn’t heard since I was a child.
I glanced at Lord Belshazzar and reluctantly put away my swords. I mouthed, My father.
Lord Belshazzar ran his fingers through his hair with much irritation. He motioned for me to start walking and fell into step beside me, grabbing his shoes and socks as we moved. We didn’t bother talking, as it would have been eavesdropped on. We strolled out of the room at a laid-back pace, our guards behind us.
While we walked together in the dimly lit hallway, the lord glanced at me, lifting one brow in a silent question.
My lips twitched at his vexed regard, the unintended cockblock my father had caused. I nodded my head in an affirmative to his subtle question. I would go to Lord Belshazzar’s room for a night of sex—if my father didn’t ruin the mood completely.
Lord Belshazzar’s bare footsteps were silent like my boots on the ground. Only thirty seconds later, my father turned a corner in front of us, his whistling cutting off when he noticed my returning scowl at the tune, though he wasn’t surprised to see someone there, his hearing better than mine. His own guard followed closely behind him.
Lord Cato’s scrutiny darted all over us, registering the filth on our bodies, his nostrils flaring and taking in the scent of the blood-mud. His dark brows furrowed as he stopped in front of us, asking frankly, “What the hell happened to you two?”
“Sparring,” I muttered. “Fun times.”
My father took in my extremely dirty appearance compared to Lord Belshazzar’s relatively clean suit. He snickered under his breath. His brown eyes returned to mine. “Real fun, it looks like.” Lord Cato’s attention zeroed in on any piece of flesh that was visible, giving my person a more in-depth perusal. “He didn’t—”