Chapter Seventeen
Gaalin glowered at the empty stairwell while kneeling down to pick up the two bloody daggers on the floor. He gritted his teeth in frustration, his eyes squeezing shut while he turned and slammed his fist down against the leg of the table. Damn it, he silently cursed.
He stood up and turned towards the closed double doors to the right of the dining hall, angrily pushing them open before slamming them shut behind him. Entering his living quarters, he walked across the room. He threw the stained blades onto his desk before slumping down into his cushioned chair.
“Curse that dragon scum.” He snarled.
He didn't understand anything right now and it was incredibly frustrating. Libelle had done a poor job at explaining the whole situation to him, she had ignored most of his questions while he filled her tub. Then when he had offered his assistance, for the first time ever she avoided his touch and refused his help.
“The priests tasked me with him, I could not disobey.” He mockingly repeated her, so childish he corrected himself. The priests of Uppsala? He had met the men only a handful of times, but he could not be of such high authority to govern a slayer. Why would she listen to the command of such a man, when half the time she ignored the words of the king’s?
He understood if she went to them for help, but why could she not have told him about it? Such an elaborate plan involving the dragon prince, she could have lost her life! Instead of fighting with Eskil again, she wanted to use magic against him. Had she lost her mind?!
Gaalin stood, beginning to pace back and forth in his room. “I understand that no one has been successful in taking that demon’s life. Hundreds have tried; swords, bows, magic, none have worked. Why would you be so reckless in trusting the word of a mischievous god to try and defeat him?”
He stomped his feet, his hands waving in the air.
“Curses Libelle! You could have died! You could have been struck down by that winged devil and I wasn't by your side.” His fist cracked against the wooden bed frame.
His lord had been so incredibly reckless. She had never stopped him from joining her on an adventure, he was always permitted to be by her side and be of assistance. Why had she chosen now, during such an event, to force him to return home?
He was glad that she had not been injured, she had returned home safe and seemingly like the same person. However, it filled him with fury that her longtime foe now had shelter within the walls of her home. The vile being did not deserve to sleep with the pigs!
“Gaalin, he could never harm me.”
He paused mid step and almost tripped at the recollection of her words. He could never harm her?
“Now what in all creation does that mean?!”
Had Eskil already attempted to hurt her? What was he thinking, of course Eskil had. The ancient dragon had already attempted to take her life more times than he could count. He remembered traveling with several other slayers, it was the first time he had encountered the first dragon who was created by the gods. He had nearly lost his own life at that battle, the cowardly dragon had finished devouring their comrades before burning the entire area and fleeing.
He had only seen the aftermath of one of their worst battles, she had returned weeks later than she was supposed. Upon her return he discovered how badly she was injured, she had barely survived and he figured he owed thanks to the priests for their aid in her care.
That was when she had received the scar that was clawed from her jaw to her chest. She had fought a terrible infection for weeks, he tended to her every need and waited on her like she was royalty. He had changed her bandages, healed her, he had saved her life. It was the only wound she had ever received that scarred, no healer in the land was able to remove it. It was her own curse, an everyday reminder that she had failed to take the dragon princes life.
How she had struggled to fight off the meager dragons that attacked the land. How he had struggled to fight by her side. For years he had faithfully served Libelle as her retainer and friend. He had fought valiantly with her since his youth, he spent his younger years with her and now almost thirty; he was nearing, if not past the age men would typically settle down with a lass and marry her.
Instead, he refused to marry. He didn't refuse a woman to his bed, but he made it clear he would not betroth himself to them, even if they carried his bastard child. His place was here, with Libelle. He would faithfully serve her until she had no need of a retainer, or a companion in war; then he would stay by her side as her husband, if she would have him. He did no doubt she would not refuse him.
He was the only man who knew her well, and he was of a select few who knew her identity as a dragon slayer in this area. He was the only man who was suitable for her.
Gaalin pulled off his shirt and loosened the leather ties of his pants, kicked off his boots and fell back onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, counting the veins in the wood while breathing slowly. How he boiled with rage, filled with jealousy and angst over the current situation.
He sighed, “There’s nothing I can do right now.” He decided.
The beast is here to stay until she decides otherwise. She takes her responsibilities seriously, and as foul as he is: he is her responsibility now. If she was tasked to take care of him, to watch him, that's what she will do. Gaalin would help her, even if it disturbs him.
So here he was, staring at his ceiling while his enraged lord was upstairs tending to the wounds of her mortal enemy. He would try to believe her that the bastard could not harm her, her or any other mortal being. The horned fiend may be behaving for now, but he would be there when he barred his fangs. When that happened, he would be ready for it, he would defend his lord and take the world-eaters head.
Gaalin sighed again, propping himself up on his pillows. As frustrated as he was, his member was as hard as a rock. His head fell back on his pillow. “My lady, my Libelle.” He murmured to himself. “My lovely, beautiful Libelle.”
His mind turned perverted and his lips curled upwards in a sadistic smile.
Envisioning her porcelain skin against the darkness of his own, her hands were on his stomach, her lips trailing kisses on his chest. Her hands moving up and down his body, long locks of hair tickling his skin, eyes smoldering with passion.
Gaalin’s hand slid beneath his pants, his fingers twisting around his cock and rubbing up and down. A soft moan passing his taut lips as his imagination went wild with the images he was creating. His desire to have Libelle was growing needier, he wanted her so badly. Yet there was nothing he could do about it, he was forbidden to touch her.
"So, do you want me then?"
Libelle’s words from weeks earlier echoed through his ears, the plumpness of her lips as she spoke made him want to kiss her. The emptiness in her eyes that day, made him want to pleasure her until her eyes filled with life and desire. He wanted to hold her until she never dreamed of another man holding her.
Gaalin’s hand pumped up and down faster, massaging his member with increased speed as his desire reached its peak. With an exasperated moan, he stared down into his hand, slick with his own cum.
“Yes, I want you lass.”