Page 18 of The Manticore's Fire

Every weapon with which hunters had attacked him with was mounted on the wall. Plainly forged sabers, jeweled swords and daggers were mounted side by side with equal ceremony as blades and bludgeoning weapons of all kinds were neatly lined as a testimony to all those battles that he had overcome. At their center, however, Abby’s lance hung in the place of honor, the broken wooden shaft fitted with a newly forged metal one. Histriumph over her deserved the acclaim, and he knew that she recognized the significance of it because a small flush rose in her cheeks as she caught sight of her weapon. She moved closer to the wall, drawn to the display as he would have suspected. She was a warrior and hunter. It was natural.

“Trophies of my victories,” he explained as he moved closer. “Each belonged to one who thought to take my life. Some humans, some of other races. A reminder of my victories.”

“I did not think that there would be so many,” she replied in a hushed voice. “There are a lot more weapons here than skulls in your parlor.”

He chuckled in agreement. “I only keep the skulls of those who especially pissed me off.”

His words startled a laugh from her. “I see my lance is in the center. I’m honored.”

Warmth spread across his chest, and he smiled. “There has been no human like you. No one else deserves that honor.”

Her head cocked to the side as she considered her weapon. “What would you do if there were two weapons?”

He frowned at the question. “I do not under?—”

His words died in his mouth as Abby whirled around, slashing at him with a blade in her hand. Cursing himself for a fool yet again, Samir rolled, narrowly avoiding the blade for a second time. His heart crumpled, not only was she attacking him, but he recognized the ornate hilt and the flash of gemstones encrusting it as one of his treasured belongings.

Dodging, Samir thrust his arm out, slamming his palm between her breasts so that she was sent flying off her feet. She landed hard, her breath rushing out of her. She had somehow retained hold on the dagger, however. Sorrow filled him as he rushed her in a fast side-step and brought his stinger up, prepared to deliver the fatal blow. Killing her would destroy him. He might as well curl up in his flames and die as well but it hadto be done. He swung his tail back in preparation to strike but for some reason his gaze shifted to her face. Her laughing face and eyes sparkling with far too much glee.

Shaking his head in confusion, he brought his tail but at the last minute he turned it away so that the side knocked the weapon out of her hand harmlessly, instead, before sinking the stinger against the stone floor beside her arm. Abby looked at it and burst out laughing.

Drawing close to her side, he peered down at her, a snarl on his lips despite the disbelief that shook him. “You tried to kill me…again!”

Abby grinned up at him shrugged unrepentantly, unimpressed and without the slightest hint of fear of anxiety as she giggled. “I figured it would be fun.”

Samir stared at her in bewilderment. “You attempted to slay me… to amuse yourself?”

“Well, I did feel a little guilty about it,” she said cheerfully. “But I figured I ought to at least give it another valiant go since I had plenty of time and saw an opening. I would be a disgrace to my calling if I didn’t even try,” she pointed out as she gave him a sweet smile but then ruined it by breaking out into laughter. “Come on, Samir, it was a joke! Of course I wasn’t trying to kill you. I didn’t even aim or put any force behind that swing.” Her smile slowly died as she took in his expression. “Okay maybe it was a bit too soon as a joke, but you must admit that it was entertaining. Not to mention that it gave both of us much needed exercise.”

He squinted down at her. She seemed earnest enough. He was struggling with it, however, and his mouth twisted with the agony churning inside of him. A look of worry crossed her face, her brows beetling as she slowly pushed herself up from the ground and rose to her feet.

“Hey, Samir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was really just messing around. It was obviously ill-thought out on my part, but I swear I never would have hurt you. You believe me right?”

Sighing heavily, Samir ran a hand through his mane, wincing as his unsheathed claws scraped his head. With a concentrated effort, he retracted them and gave a wary nod. But he couldn’t let it go unpunished. He could have easily killed her in that moment. She did not realize how close to death she came. If it had not been for the need to look at her, to look for any excuse to stop the killing blow, she would have been lost to him… all for a joke. He was going to have nightmares because of this.

Grumbling in annoyance, he grabbed her hand and led her silently from the room as she continued to ramble out apologies. He had to admit that he admired her cunning, and above all her gall, in executing her joke but that did not mean he was not above teaching her a lesson that she so badly needed. Drawing her toward the entrance of his treasure-room, he unlocked the door and led her inside.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of gold and jewels piled in boxes and urns throughout the room amid golden harps and flutes. Her admiration of the treasure was expected but it did not hold her captive for long. With her quick mind it did not take her long to understand his intention. He led her deep within the room and left her there, standing alone, as he stalked toward the door.

“You can’t be serious,” she protested with a laugh as she turned in place, her body rotating as he moved around her so that she could watch him with disbelief as he stepped back into the corridor.

“You will have plenty to amuse yourself with here. And more importantly, I will be able to sleep peacefully without worrying about any further mischief,” he pointed out. “Sleep well,” herumbled as he turned away, ignoring her furious sputtered protests.

With the door locked between them, he briefly considered going to bed as he had threatened but the idea of lying in the bed alone had become distasteful to him. Instead, he returned to his study and picked up his ink pen as he opened his journal on his desk in front of him to record the recent events of the month. He wrote for a time, his mind returning over and over to the moment of her attack. The teasing note in her voice as she had asked him about a second weapon. There had been no maliciousness. She had been laughing all the while. And she was right, her swing had been sloppy, designed more to shock than to harm.

Damned fool of a female. He adored her but she was going to be the death of him yet. He dragged his hand over his face and his ears twitched as he gradually became aware of a terrible sound that was growing louder as time passed. How long it had been going on he wasn’t sure, but at the octave it was at now, it was plucking at his nerves so that he could hardly concentrate.

What was that infernal noise?

The discordant sound of a harp badly thrummed echoed through the cavern in accompaniment to the lyrics Abby sang. At least that was what he assumed she was doing. Some silly song about lovers never parting. Never had he imagined singing to be a singularly painful experience and yet it brought a smile to his face. And she thoughthissinging was painful to listen to.

With a groan, he left his study, leaving the door unlocked behind him, and returned to the treasure room. Despite his earlier resolve, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart flipping within his chest at the sight of his lovely female seated astride a chest overflowing with gold and jewels while a particularly expensive bolt of cloth was twisted around her middle and secured with a self-made harness from a string ofpearls, and a dainty crown was askew on her head as her fingers struck the strings discordantly yet again.

“Looooove, love is strange,” she shrilled before dropping the song altogether to beam happily at him. “Oh, you’re back!”

A tired chuckle escaped him, and he opened his arms for her in a simple gesture of forgiveness and affection. He did not know what to expect. It certainly was not the delighted squeal that came from her, or the way she happily jumped into his embrace with so much eagerness and so little finesse that treasure spilled over the both of them, her crown smacking him in the face as it fell from her head.

“Oops, sorry. I swear that wasn’t another attack,” she whispered in his ear, drawing another chuckle from him.

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