Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian Read Free

rolling and pushing to her feet as he turned to pick up the short sword. By the time he’d reacted, she had one foot in the stirrup and was mounting the circling beast. Driven by anger now, he threw himself at her and managed to dislodge her foot. She kicked out, catching him on the chin before sliding with a yell from the saddle.
    Energy shot through his veins as his body remembered what it was made for. Easily he caught her hair and wound it around his fist, jerking her close to his face. Mutinously, she glared back at him, full in the eye, without blinking. Few had done that and lived to relate the tale. The short sword pressed into the tender skin of her throat, harder than she deserved, for he saluted her bravery and understood her desperation.
    “So, this is what your word is worth?”
    “I don’t make deals with scum like you. How long would you have let me live, once you’d got what you wanted?”
    “Unlike yours, my word is worth the breath,” he said close to her ear. She flinched and leaned away, as if his touch would burn her. He snaked out his tongue and ran it along the line of her jaw, amused rather than angered, by her outraged shriek. Mortals were so easy to read. Even as she strained away from him, the woman in her was softening and preparing. He was hard against her back, and she was melting into him. He pressed himself sinuously into the dip of her waist.
    “Don’t kid yourself, mister. Takes more than a barbarian in a loincloth to get me hot. I prefer my men a little more civilised.”
    “Barbarian?” The sword twitched, causing her to back farther into him to avoid the keen blade. “Do you know who I am?”
    “I don’t care who you are. Just take the ride and let me go.”
    “I am Fabian Lucimanticus Persidio of Alurides. King and most high lord of the seven plateaus. And scourge of women,” he added when she let out a disbelieving snort.
    “Didn’t I just know you’d have a pretentious name? Well, Fabio, you don’t impress me.”
    In another life, he’d have relished the challenge. This tiny creature, who fitted so neatly into the crook of his elbow, would have been one for the harem. There, he would have shown her exactly how an Anxur king impressed the female sex. “It’s Fa-bi-an,” he said. “Do me the honour of yours.”
    “My what?”
    “Your name, you stupid woman. Don’t anger me. I’ve cut people’s throats for less.”
    “Tig. My name is Tig.”
    “Tig? That is all? It is a stupid name.”
    “Only marginally less stupid than yours.” She gave a token struggle to let him know she hadn’t given up the fight. “Do I look as if I need a bigger name?”
    “You do not. I’ll grant you that.” He pushed her away and grasped the beast’s bridle instead. “Take off your shirt.”
    Fear flashed across her face. “You said you didn’t want my virtue.”
    “I think your virtue is long-gone,
Tig
. I need it to bind your hands with.”
    She turned and ran.
    “Or I will kill Cafino.”
    She kept on running, then slowed and turned to face him. “To me. Cafino, to me!” she cried, following the command with a shrill, two-fingered whistle. Cafino bucked in an effort to free himself from Fabian’s determined hold. Fabian’s attempt to throw himself across the saddle ended with a kick to the shin that made him roar out his frustrations to the heavens. When he looked up, Tig was laughing at him, her expression gentling when she saw his distress.
    “He’s a kicker,” she said, pointing to the beast. She raised her hands, palms facing him in a gesture he understood well. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. If you were going to kill me, you would have by now. You look about to collapse. Let’s call a truce. I’ll take you to the farm and see to those injuries. Then, when you’re healed, we’ll take the wagon into the township and see about getting you home. What do you say to that?”
    Yes,
his body screamed. Food, clothes, shelter. Salve for the cuts, a splint