The Last Danann: Titanian Chronicles, #2

By Victoria Saccenti

He struck a devil's bargain to save his people. Now he must risk more to save his love.

In exchange for his people's safe passage into Tir na nÓg, Kailen pledged his sword to the Titanians to defeat the daemon horde. Centuries years later, the grief of his losses heavy, Kailen has sworn that while his body is open to carnal pleasures, his heart is closed to love.

Even when it comes to a Druid-trained healer of mysterious origins who serves in the house of Soren, the greatest Titanian warrior. Talaith. This lavender-eyed beauty is his one gentle memory out of centuries drenched in blood.

Not long ago, Talaith willingly lent her powers—such as they are—as Kailen raced to save Soren's life. Otherwise, she fiercely hides the heart she lost long ago to the lonely, taciturn Tuatha Dé Danann warrior.

When Kailen and Talaith join forces to aid the Titanians against a renewed daemon attack, the walls between them crumble in fierce, emotional passion. But when death magic strikes, the price Kailen willingly pays to keep Talaith safe could tear them apart forever.

 

The Tinanian Universe continues...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Saccenti
• Release date: Sep 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736358955

Victoria Saccenti

Award-winning and bestselling author Victoria Saccenti writes contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic women's fiction. Not one for heart and flower stories, she explores the edgy twists and turns of human interaction, the many facets of love, and all possible happy endings.  After thirty years of traveling the world, she’s settled in Central Florida, where she splits her busy schedule between family and her active muse at Essence Publishing. However, if she could convince her husband to sell their home, she would pack up her computer and move to Scotland, a land she adores.

Book preview

Praise for the Titanian Chronicles.

An engaging and cinematic work of fiction with intense romance moments to offer readers.

~Readers’ Favorite

I absolutely loved how the bond between mates manifests.

~ Beyond the Covers Blog

Ms. Saccenti has built a world that captivates its readers from start to finish…

~Ind’Tale Magazine

A beautiful whirlwind tale of eternal love…

~International Review of Books

By

VICTORIA SACCENTI

Table of Contents

Praise for the Titanian Chronicles.

Title Page

Copyright

SOUTHERN EGYPT…

CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS…

CASTLE TENEBRARIUM

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ABISKO, SWEDEN…

Thanks for reading

Beloved Titanian

About The Author

Other Works by Victoria

The Last Danann, Titanian Chronicles

Copyright 2021 Victoria Saccenti

ISBN: Epub 978-1-7363589-5-5

Editor: Linda Ingmanson

Cover Design: Scott Carpenter

Formatting: Anessa Books

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of fiction or are used in a fictitious manner, including portrayal of historical figures and situations. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Essence Publishing

Victoria Saccenti Writes

SOUTHERN EGYPT…

Thebes, 1000 BC

The reed skiff reached the makeshift dock on the eastern shore of the Nile. A spot centered between the edge of Karnak and the obelisks at the gate of the Luxor temple, the sanctuary of the south. The fisherman planted his heavy foot on the wooden platform, steadying his vessel. You must hurry, stranger. The storm is upon us. Warily, the fisherman glanced over his shoulder.

A massive wall of dust and sand had already blotted out the sun. Now it raced from the west, a ravenous monster poised to ingest Amenhotep III’s temple, the mighty Karnak complex, and every powerless victim in its path.

Holding an edge of his robe’s hood over his nose and mouth, Kailen rushed along the avenue of sphinxes in mid-construction, heading southeast past the commoners’ village. His goal was a solitary mud hut belonging to Khnurn, the most powerful wizard on the planet.

Decades ago, Khnurn’s hut had been part of the village, but as word of his amazing miracles spread among the population, Pharaoh and his court magicians feared his divine authority might suffer. An unusual situation developed: Pharaoh’s godlike power had to remain unquestioned, and casting out the sorcerer could prove dangerous to all. As a result, magical consultations were banned and the village was moved a few huts at a time. When the shift was accomplished, Khnurn’s abode stood all by itself.

Rule breakers were easily spotted and castigated by the authorities. However, people in need of powerful magic weren’t so easily repressed. The desperate, willing to risk life and limb, found ways to sneak in, either in the dead of night or at odd hours. No punishment was too harsh if the impossible was achieved: the return to health of a dying child, the spark of love in a cold, distant heart, acquired wealth, and rise in status.

Kailen reached the door’s hide flap just as the outline of his hand disappeared within the roiling sand. Murmuring the enchantment’s password, given to him ages ago, he went through. The blustering, blinding winds remaining outside.

Peace be with you. Kailen bowed.

And to you, Danann lord. Khnurn returned the greeting from his cushion next to the hearth. You may shake the dust at the entry. Sabah will clean the mat after the storm passes. Leave the robe on the post and the shoes below. Come, join me by the fire. The wizard showed no surprise in his voice. He must have seen Kailen’s arrival in one of his many scrying sessions. Rest your weary body.

Kailen sat on the luxurious multicolor silk brocade pillow Khnurn had propped up for him. The opulent fabric belied the humble outward appearance of the hut.

Despite the apprehension a meeting with the great wizard elicited, he addressed the purpose of his journey to Thebes. I beg your indulgence, Master—

Khnurn raised a silencing finger. Kailen pressed his lips into a line.

Supper before a consultation. The mage dipped a cast-iron ladle into the cauldron, stirred a few times, releasing the reassuring aroma of some kind of spicy stew and brought it up to his nose. Ignoring the rising vapor, he tasted the liquid, then smacked his lips with uninhibited enjoyment. Mmm, delicious. Sabah has outdone herself.

The slim, dark-haired woman passed Kailen a ceramic bowl and wooden spoon and an identical set to the wizard. With a soft rustle of her cotton skirts, she faded within the shadows behind the hanging tapestries. A bewildering possibility considering the hut had no corners or separate rooms he could discern. He remembered where he was and tossed the question aside. Mysteries were normal in Khnurn’s home.

Give me your bowl, Danann.

As the mage extended his hand and leaned closer to the simmering cauldron, the lines on his weathered face took on a reddish hue. A deep scar that cut straight down from his permanently arched eyebrow to his cropped beard shifted. His gold-and-diamond ankh pendant, a gift from primordial god Atum swung out of his robe. Swiftly, he tucked it back inside. Rarely did he allow anyone a glimpse of the fabled piece.

Khnurn was a study in contrasts: grave, ageless, and mischievous. His piercing golden eyes danced with an amused light as if he were privy to a humorous tale or knew a joke most creatures didn’t. Rumors about his age and origins abounded. The oldest tribal leaders swore the mage was an unintended product of Hades’s magic. Others argued Kronos created the sorcerer when he returned from exile to exact his revenge against Zeus. As guesses and rumors spread, so did his mystique. One fact was certain: unassuming and private, Khnurn wielded the all-encompassing magic of the universe on Earth.

Smells good. Kailen blew on the steaming liquid.

Cooked with your requirements in mind, Danann. Strictly vegetables. Eat. You’ve been on the road awhile.

Yes, he was tired and starved. Turning his attention to the stew, he cleaned his bowl.

Khnurn laughed. More?

Please. Kailen presented his bowl. The mage promptly filled it, and both fell silent again.

He ate the second helping as quickly as the first, his body appreciative of the nourishment. Kailen dropped his spoon in the empty bowl, and the enigmatic Sabah emerged once more from the shadows. Moving swiftly, she whisked his bowl away and reached out for Khnurn’s. As she did, he grasped her wrist. His smile brightened his features.

Thank you, mistress.

As Sabah bowed, a beauty spot above the left corner of her full lips came into view. She stacked the dishes, and returned to the shadows. Renewed curiosity gnawed at Kailen. He squashed it before an impertinent question ruined this crucial meeting. His people stood at the brink of extinction.

How may I help you? Folding his hands, Khnurn reclined an elbow on his cushion. His demeanor remained as calm and as easy as when Kailen had arrived.

A frisson of despair coursed over him. The sudden certainty that the fate of his race had already been decided struck his soul with panic. He hesitated. Would a few extra moments of ignorance keep the illusion of hope alive?

He exhaled, seeking a fortitude he didn’t feel, and voiced his question. Have you seen our path, Master? Is there hope for us, or are we doomed to fade?

Khnurn stared at an indistinct spot, worrying with the tips of his fingers the edge of his beard. The High Kings have been tricked. The Tuatha Dé Danann’s time on earth has ended. Now it is time for the Tír na nÓg, the eternal land of youth, awaits.

Is… Is this the universe’s final ruling?

It is, Kailen. Take heart. Your people won’t be forgotten.

Could we not strike a bargain with the invaders?

Khnurn released his beard. His movements were slow and precise as he stoked the coals in the hearth. A red gleam illuminated the room, and long, dark shapes danced on the tapestries.

In haste, a poor bargain was struck.

Gods! Kailen exclaimed. I have traveled long miles to seek your counsel. My lords swore they would wait for my return.

The Milesians have outwitted your leaders. As conquerors and winners, they’ve opted to rule the land aboveground. Your kind must accept defeat and travel to the great beyond. One of your last duties with the Tuatha Dé Danann is to assist Manannán, god of the sea. He will guide your people in their journey through the sidhe mounds.

But that sentence means oblivion.

Not quite. The Tuatha Dé Danann are talented and beautiful, and humanity worships both. Myth and legend will repeat their stories, albeit with some confusion and contradictions. He laughed softly. Future human generations will call the Tuath Dé sidhe and fae. Paintings will be made, books written in their honor. Now heed my words… Khnurn frowned, and his voice dropped an octave. "Under no circumstances will the sword of light travel underground or be lost in the land of eternal youth. You must retain the Claíomh Solais to serve on this plane."

Alas, the sword is one of our most prized possessions. Kailen pressed a hand against his chest. His heart ached for his race. How did we offend the universe? Must we be shamed in every way, stripped of everything we love?

No shame. Never shame. Khnurn narrowed his eyes. This sacrifice is required for the sake of eternal life and order in the cosmos. Your people may keep the cauldron, stone, and spear. However, the sword is needed on Earth. He punched his cushion. Remember, Kailen. You will be its keeper until such time when you join the Titanians. You will teach Lord Troels, leader of the great race, how to duplicate the weapon for others to use.

Forgive me, Master. I’m at a loss.

Khnurn crossed one ankle over the other, pulled a second cushion behind his waist, and leaned back. So many things I can do, except ever get truly comfortable. I need your help, Sabah.

The lady emerged out of the dark, a large cushion in hand. Evidently, she was an even greater sorceress, as she anticipated Khnurn’s needs before he spoke. She shuffled behind him. As he leaned slightly forward, she slipped the pillow where he’d indicated.

Ah…much better, my angel of mercy. By the time Khnurn smiled, she’d already walked away. Turning a little on his side, Khnurn propped his head on the heel of his hand. As I was saying, the universe demands your obedience, Kailen. Your compliance guarantees the eternal peace of your race in Tír na nÓg. It’s not fair to you, and the road will be long and solitary. But mark my words, in the end, you will be rewarded.

Kailen attempted to smile. He was certain an ugly grimace emerged instead. While he tried to order the insanity in his mind and allow resignation to settle in, Khnurn’s voice droned on. Kailen blinked to catch up with the mage’s instructions.

This is the order of events. You will assist Manannán. Once the last Danann has passed, you’ll take the sword to the Seelie Court. Oberon is expecting you. A word of advice. The fairies are stunningly beautiful, charming, and tricky. Many will tempt you. Don’t form attachments during your time at the court. If you do, your heart will break. Your future lies further ahead in time, not with the fairies.

Kailen’s sense of doom increased by the minute. Why me? I’m not a great leader. There are others, worthier and more illustrious. Why can’t I go away, diminish with my people?

Khnurn sighed. You are a male of valor and integrity, and the universe has set its eyes on you. A deadly struggle is coming. The future of all magical and nonmagical creatures will hang in the balance. You’ll rally allies to the battlefield and win the war. The Titanians exert godlike powers, but are few in numbers. They’ll need your help.

Kailen huffed. Titanians, the Seelie Court… Do you realize how crazy all this sounds? I’m Tuatha Dé. I know nothing about Titanians or the fae.

You’re a disciplined warrior, though. Khnurn’s eyes crinkled. Members of the Unseelie Court are creating trouble. Oberon wants to stamp that out. Send everyone back to their rightful place.

And the Titanians?

That’s an entirely different matter. Khnurn sat up. What have you heard about the daemon race?

Kailen tilted his head. A rumor reached us in Inis Fáil. It’s said Hades made them.

An insane creation, pure abomination, that’s my opinion. In his quest for universal supremacy, Hades lost control of his magic, and the rest of us have to deal with the consequences. Daemons are currently subdued, existing in their separate dimension. I have foreseen a deadly uprising. A clash between the daemon armies and the Titanian allied forces.

Why?

The scar on Khnurn’s face shifted as he sneered. Power, a permanent return to the earthly plane and control. But a personal reason will arise. Astarot, their leader, will catch a glimpse of Adalheidis, Lord Fritiof ’s mate, and desire her for himself. The daemon lord won’t stop until he gets her.

Perspiration dotted Kailen’s face. He ran his fingers over his forehead. You speak about the future so easily. It’s well known the future is elusive, tentative at best.

The outcome has been revealed to me. Khnurn’s voice lowered and turned distant. Calamitous events, famine, pestilence, and bitter, colder temperatures will push humanity from the Middle Ages to a new era of enlightenment. Titanians will be too busy protecting and guiding humanity through disaster and growth. The daemon race will seize their distraction to initiate hostilities, several skirmishes at first. The final uprising will coincide with the creation of the printing press in Europe. You’ll have joined Troels and his sons by that time. The decisive battle will take place high in the Caucasus.

Time meant nothing to Khnurn. He saw and discussed eras as if he’d already lived them. Master, I… This is beyond my comprehension. I’m still adapting to my people’s fate. Let alone…

I gave you a list of duties to complete. Khnurn waved a dismissive hand. For now, concentrate on the first step. And while you serve Oberon—I’d say about nine hundred years will handle his problem—you’ll meet every magical species in the world and form unbreakable bonds. Your name will be spoken with admiration.

Nine hundred years, Kailen muttered.

That is but a tiny speck in the continuum of time and the endless cosmos. Don’t fret, Oberon is a mischievous and fun-loving king. He’ll keep you entertained. And before you know it, you’ll be moving on to your next assignment.

Kailen’s mind reeled with the immensity of Khnurn’s timeline. When? One word was all he could muster.

I will send word.

An enigmatic smile appeared. The wizard returned to stoking his coals, leaving Kailen floating in a cloud of unanswerable questions.

One thing was certain: he’d been separated from his people forever. The life he’d expected to experience since birth had been displaced, lost to him. He stared at his new road with sad awareness. He’d never take anything for granted again.

CAUCASUS MOUNTAINS…

Upper Svanetia Province, AD 1450

Kailen stopped his mount at the edge of a lookout escarpment. The stallion reared and snorted, expelling thick vapor out of his nostrils. Late spring had brought much warmer temperatures to the lower levels on the mountain range, but stubborn winter struggled to kept a tight grip on the uplands.

Covering his eyes against the sunlight, Kailen scanned the much-changed landscape below. A verdant valley emerged out of a thinning layer of snow. Its narrow brook—water collected from melting ice uphill—split the rolling hills as it continued on its journey to the base.

Three days ago, as he rode out to scout the enemy’s position and numbers, human activity had been present in the small village. Farmers tilled the soil and livestock grazed on both sides of the brook. Thanks to Nadrine’s powerful incantations instilling a mysterious and irresistible fear, the townspeople had taken enough belongings to live for several days, including grain and pigs for food, and rushed to the next village below. There, they would await the passing of this unknown evil.

Now, groupings of colorful military tents with their respective species’ signage dotted the field. The Titanian leadership displayed on their tents a large T with a Celtic ribbon wrapped around its middle. Close by, the Auricians had erected their golden shelters. The elves displayed a rather realistic image of Medusa’s monstrous head on theirs. Ever since the last remaining vials of Medusa’s left-side poison had been dug up in an abandoned Tripoli temple, Alain, leader of the elves, had claimed the Gorgon as his symbol. He’d vowed to use the deadly potion against the minions, counteracting their venom during the fight. Shifters, wolves, foxes, and pumas fought as one group. They had no use for symbols or signs adorning their shelters. The spot set aside for the vampires was empty. Eachann and his friends had agreed to teleport in when the clash began.

The last tent on the hill was his. A thin plume of smoke swirled out of the center. He shared it with the brave druid enchantress who’d followed him here. My beautiful Nadrine. His mind filled with her delicate features, lustrous dark hair, sensual full breasts, and hourglass body. He longed to hold her, press her against his chest as he inhaled her spicy alluring scent. As soon as he reported his findings to Lord Fritiof, he would go to her.

With a light nudge to the horse’s flanks, Kailen made quick clicking noises, and his mount took off downhill. He stopped at the Titanian tent, jumped down, and strode inside as he drew back the hood of his cloak. With typical Titanian pragmatism, the furnishings inside the tent were basic and sparse: two cots, a couple of trunks, a multipurpose table large enough for four, and several rolled scrolls. They’d brought enough comfort to last through the present situation and go home.

Silence greeted Kailen inside the tent. Clad in simple white tunic and long breeks, Lord Fritiof Westerberg, leader of the Titanians, and his younger brother, Gustaf, studied a map. The brothers had the same looks—ebon hair, glittering eyes, and massive physique—their identical likeness always mystified him. Both glanced up when he entered.

So, where are they? Fritiof asked.

Astarot’s forces are about thirty-six hours out. They approach from the east and should arrive tomorrow night.

The subcreatures are many, but slow as sloths. Gustaf rolled the map and held it in a large hand. Their timing is impeccable, though. They prefer to attack at night. What about the lieutenants of the horde?

I counted twenty. Kailen unhooked the water canteen from his belt and took a long swig.

Damn, that’s the full complement, Fritiof muttered.

Gustaf paced to an open trunk and dropped the rolled map inside. Astarot is no fool. He and his wizards maneuvered any and all available death magic to create their deadliest weapon until Hades shut off the flow. The daemon lord would be stupid to leave the lieutenants behind.

Have you demonstrated the use of the light sword for the shifters? Fritiof asked Kailen. Do they need to practice?

Bromm is quite proficient. I’ll check with him in the morning. If anyone needs a refresher lesson, I’ll handle it, Lord. I’ll also check with the elves.

Why must I always remind you I’m not your lord, Kailen? There are no ranks between us. I’m your partner and friend, Fritiof argued.

That goes for me too, Gustaf added.

Sometimes, their open show of respect and affection embarrassed him. He knew what his role and duty should be. He’d come to the Titanians to protect and serve them in this fight.

Gently, he diverted the conversation. Where are the young warriors? He’d noticed their absence. This was their first time in combat, and all four adolescents shadowed their fathers wherever they went.

Fritiof gave a short laugh. They’re in the next tent. Two are embroiled in a life-or-death chess match, the other two in backgammon. The adults have peace.

Well, if nothing else is needed of me… I will take my leave. Kailen bowed and pivoted. As he reached the tent’s opening, Fritiof stopped him.

Tell me the truth, friend. What are our chances?

We shall prevail. He pulled the cover flap aside and stepped out.

Kailen grabbed his steed’s reins. Taking a deep breath of cold, invigorating air, he pulled the horse along as he weaved through camp toward his tent.

A tall, ethereal elf, his long white hair wafting in the afternoon breeze, and dressed in the traditional tunic of his kind, waved at him when he passed by.

Welcome back, Kailen. Two werewolves in human form called out to him. Their human form wasn’t strong enough to disguise the brawny physique and predatory intensity. They’d come to fight. He dipped his head in salute.

As he continued, he questioned his decision to walk instead of ride. He’d dreamed of Nadrine during his mission, had grouped the stars in the night sky and arranged her face in a sparkling constellation. He’d imagined her sweet body comforting his with its warmth as he loved her. The light of his fire cast shapes on the vivid fantasy.

Now he was teasing himself, delaying his gratification to the last possible minute. Why hesitate when his entire body thrummed with desire and… Gods, was he thinking love on the eve of battle? Was there ever a right time to indulge in tender emotions?

Khnurn’s warning from eons ago returned to him. The sorcerer had been specific: Do not fall for anyone in the Seelie Court or words to that effect. And he’d obeyed. But this was a different time and with a different species.

Immersed in those thoughts, he stopped at the post Nadrine had fashioned to hold the saddle and bridle. Murmuring ancient soothing words, he rubbed the stallion’s forehead as he removed the headgear. The spirited beast chuffed in response. Its ears swished back and forth with interest, his head bobbing up and down. Kailen smiled. He’d met the Alpha male soon after he teleported with Nadrine. As the sorceress conjured a spell to frighten humans away, Kailen studied the area, learning the valley’s pitch and rolling plains, the best ambush locations, and other strategic points. The chestnut stallion, leader of his herd, approached him then. After initial introductions and explanations about Kailen’s presence in this remote location, the stallion agreed to help without conditions, and a respectful relationship began.

Thanks for your help, Kailen murmured as he palmed the stallion’s crested neck, then grabbed the saddle and padded cloth. He pulled both down and dropped them on the post to air out. I’m sure you’re in a hurry to join the herd.

And maybe he’ll enjoy this.

Surprised, he turned. Nadrine flicked a large carrot between her fingers.

How? Where?

She released her tinkling laughter. I did a quick teleport to the next town. They grow all sorts of items farther down. Look. Nadrine held open a cloth bag, showing an assortment of tubers and other colorful produce. Perfect for my vegetable-eating fae.

Kailen cupped her cheek. Why do you insist? I’m not fae. He’d repeatedly explained his origins and race. But when their paths crossed, human myth and lore had given him a new identity. She knew him as fae and wouldn’t change her mind.

Passing him the carrot, Nadrine shrugged coquettishly. The neckline of her midnight-blue gown lowered. Supple, creamy skin above her breasts called to him.

I’ve collected water for your ablutions behind the tent. I’m keeping your food warm. Come when ready, my lord. She bowed and walked inside.

Behind him, the horse snorted and nudged his shoulder. The carrot’s sweet scent had reached its nostrils.

Hey, Kailen exclaimed and laughed in the same breath. He offered his palm, and the carrot disappeared in a huge chomp. Okay, go. Join the others. Kailen slapped his rump. His new companion took off toward the brook as Kailen walked around his tent.

Nadrine had been creative in his absence. Since she understood his penchant for cleanliness, she must’ve teleported to the human villages in search of physical supplies her magic could transport. A wide metal container filled with clean water had been propped above a small fire. Next to the water, she’d planted a hooked wrought iron bar. A rustic ball of soap hung from a sock, and a length of cotton had been folded on the bar. All this careful preparation meant she’d foreseen his return to camp.

Kailen tossed his cloak aside, unlaced his suede jerkin, and removed his tunic. He rolled his breeches down to his hips, and, taking a deep breath, he dumped his head, arms, and torso in the water. When he came up to breathe, his hair made an arc in the air. Warm rivulets sluiced down his bare skin. A stinging cold wind blew past him, and he moved quickly, soaping and rinsing himself. Tomorrow, he’d bathe in the brook when the sun hit its zenith at noon. He dried with the folded cloth and blotted his long hair as best he could. Invigorated and feeling much restored, he went inside.

The scents of cooking spices combined with the soothing indoor temperature of his tent relaxed his tired muscles and ligaments. As he donned a fresh shirt, a luxurious lassitude and a strong need to lie down and sleep until the morning light was difficult to resist. Had he been alone, he would have passed out.

But he wasn’t.

She studied his every move. A light of pent-up desire and expectation danced in her dark eyes. He knew her too well, the signals of her body: extreme alertness, erect nipples pushing against her dress, and moist, parted lips. She’d waited anxiously for his return. If he fell asleep now, she’d toss and turn throughout the night.

He locked his gaze with hers. I’m not leaving you unsatisfied. Her shy, submissive pose acknowledged his message. Soon she’d be a tigress in his arms.

Hungry, my lord?

I am. Smells delicious. He sat by his plate and utensils and waited.

She beamed as she ladled the stew into his bowl and slipped it before him.

What about your dinner?

Nadrine moved slowly around him, trembling when her arm brushed his shoulder, then sat on the chair facing him. I ate a little. Wine? She moved two goblets forward and held up the full decanter.

Please. He took a spoonful as she poured, then closed his eyes with delight. "Nadrine, you are the best cook on the earthly plane."

And you are among the best of flatterers.

He extended his palm across the narrow table, and she dropped her hand in his, acquiescing to his silent demand. As he caressed the base of her thumb, he continued chewing. Once he finished, he set the spoon on the side of the bowl and brought his goblet up to his nose. He sniffed, enjoying the bouquet, and sat back, swirling the liquid and admiring the depth of color.

Nice. Plays well with the food. He took a large sip.

But… I know you don’t eat much when you’re on the road. You haven’t had enough to satisfy you.

"Did you think I was finished? This is only