FOREVER KNIGHTS: #7 King of Assassins
Enough With Space

“Have a man come at me with a dagger and I shall have a dagger. Have him attack me with a sword and I shall pierce him with a sword. Have him shackle me and I’ll crush his throat with those shackles.

I’m an exceptional killer. I’ll kill my enemy with whatever gifts he brings me…”

-Savage Jaxson to everyone in the Winter’s Haven Alehouse

Blue Lark’s Guild, Dread Hideout, Ardae

SAVAGE JAXSON

“He’s here.” The man tossed open the door of her hut to announce. Rain still running rivulets down his forehead.

“Goddamnit all to hell!” The beautiful redhead looked like an angel but spoke like a sailor. Possibly a trait gleaned from her associates in the guild. She swept up her dirtied green cloak. And smeared fresh mud from the basin near the door, across her face as she headed out the door.

“Where are you going, Mum?” Markus, one of her bodyguards asked.

“To try to keep him from killing anyone.”

“How so, Mum?” He fondled the hilt of the sword on his hip.

“To distract him.”

“Though you do distract him mightily well, it’s only ever a temporary reprieve. It won’t prevent anything.” He said disheartened. “He does whatever he damn well pleases.”

“Not in my alehouse!” She tossed over her shoulder bitterly. “It’s your job to see that he doesn’t.”

“In his fortress.” He grumbled. “I’ll rouse the rest of the men.” Markus hurried after her. Shouting for the three other bodyguards she retained. Booting the doors of their huts as they strode by, until hearing stirring within. Usually only two were on duty but when he was in the Dread Hideout, they needed to rally.

Dimurah entered her alehouse, Winter Haven, with the four bodyguards in tow.

She heard his gravelly laughter from outside. Studying the worn door of the floating structure pensively. The mired lake surrounding it, looked nearly black in the moonlight. An omen of her souring mood.

When she opened the door. She was already in high temper.

It wasn’t hard to spot him. He dominated any room he was in. Tall, and though not rippling with muscle, his body was chorded in such a way it warned others he’d not only be strong, but also mobile and quick. Piercing blue eyes lifted to look across the room. Meeting her lighter ones.

He lifted his chin haughtily, tipping back his blonde head as his eyes zeroed in on her. There you are.

“Murah.” He purred.

“I’ve told you many times, my name is Dimurah!”

I don’t give a shit.

“You’ve told me many things.” He rumbled. Giving the blonde woman clinging to his shoulder, a severe look.

Time for you to go.

She scurried away at his expression.

“Least of which is that my name is Dimurah!” She shouted.

Not to me.

“Most of which, is how you ache for my hands and arch for my mouth on your-”

Keep prodding me. You won’t like how far I take this… He lifted a frothing tankard toward her in warning.

Robust laughter echoed in the room. Approving his lude remarks. Everyone in the alehouse watched the interchange. Intent on the discussion. Taking in every dripping retort. Barmaids and dangerous assassins alike.

“Your crass tongue and foul innuendos are not duly appreciated here!” She wove through the crowd to confront him.

Funny. They sounded quite approving.

“Aren’t they?” His gaze locked on her, dangerously as laughter rose around them.

Dimurah wasn’t deluded. Knowing full well every man in here was rife with amusement.

But they’d also cut the throat of the man next to him for the right amount of coin. Especially this one. But she was unafraid as she reached the vicious assassin watching her so astutely.

Savage leaned against the wooden bar. Braced by an elbow on the surface as he awaited her.

She faced him fearlessly despite everyone else here giving him a wide berth. “Why are you here, Savage?”

You know very well why.

“That’s not my name.” He gave her a lazy grin. He smelled like fire, smoke, and leather.

“You’re Savage Jack. Everyone here knows that…”

But that’s not what you call me. And you know it. Savage’s eyes flashed gold in annoyance at her tone.

“Who’s Savage Jack?” One newcomer from a corner table.

You’re in my guild and you don’t know who I am?

Time for you to silence. Savage’s gaze flicked warningly to the little man.

That stranger didn’t at all like the sight of Savage’s glowing eyes. He hushed.

As most do when I look at them. If they have a glimmer of intelligence.

“Why are you here?” She enunciated through gritted teeth.

For you.

“For the ale.” He lifted his tankard meaningfully. Already taking in the sweet scent of her.

Like warmed cider. As enticing as she is.

“I told you not to come back.”

Ha! I stayed away long enough. He smirked. I left what I built to give you, your space. Enough is enough.

“As I’ve said,” He lifted his tankard in salute. “You’ve said many things over the years.” He announced it loud enough everyone heard. He turned from her to face the barmaid, the blonde that’d hung on him all eve, serving behind the counter. Lifting the mug to declare he needed another.

“Don’t give him one!” Dimurah ordered. Shooting the maid a black look. “He’s not welcome here.”

In my fortress?

You command many things, Murah, but not if I’m permitted to enter my Guild.

“You’re going to challenge me.” He gave her a sideways study. Tone bored. “Here?” He quirked a derisive brow. “You don’t want to do that here.” Tsking as his lips tightened.

I’ll win. I always do…

And then you’ll be upset. As you often are.

Is that really what you want to happen tonight?

“You’ve had enough drink. In an alehouse I told you not to return to. In a guild I warned you away from.”

That’s not what you wanted me to stay away from.

“My guild.” He said off-handedly. “Is that really what you were warning me away from, Murah?” His look was shrewd. Blue eyes cutting her, starting with her toes and dragging up her length to the pulled down hood.