Chapter 93 Arrogant little sh*t
Elric’s POV
Omar takes the chair opposite Ruel without so much as glancing for permission. Arrogant little shit.
Ruel sits too, placing his elbows on the desk, fingers laced, looking calmer than he feels… than we both feel.
Nothing from the alpha king is ever good.
After staring at each other for a while, Ruel speaks.
“So the alpha king sent you,” he says warmly.
Omar inclines his head once. “With six of our best. All hand-picked by me.”
I roll my eyes. He says it with such pride as though the men being handpicked by him make anything better.
“They’re yours until the eastern line is conquered.”
So the alpha king is eventually going to withdraw them. Just great.
Ruel’s eyes narrow just a fraction. “Six is generous. We expected four.” he lies through his nose.
Hell, we expected nothing but hoped for extra hands in the healthcare unit.
“The alpha king is practical,” Omar replies smoothly. “He wants the raids faster, and better coordinated.”
Ruel leans forward. “And the healers? We have just one professional and her strength is weaning with age. Some medications have expired too.”
If he’s sending bodies, he could send bandages, herbs, fucking anything he knows are a necessity.
Omar doesn’t blink. “ According to the alpha king, palace stores are stretched. Every outpost is screaming the same thing. Priority goes to those who can still hold a blade.”
Fuck that bastard!
My hands curl into fists so hard my knuckles crack. If only Ruel knows just how badly I wish he truly is an alpha, how swiftly we could take down that terror who crowned himself king.
Ruel’s jaw flexes once. Then he quietly swallows the rage the way he always does.
“Introduce me to your men,” he says at last.
Omar stands, his eyes sliding to mine. We hold the look a fraction too long, long enough for something dangerous to stir.
Cold green fire meets whatever wildfire is burning in my chest. And then he lifts one perfect brow.
“Well?” His voice is soft. “Open the door. Or are you going to stand there looking useless all day?”
I step towards him. “You better watch…”
Ruel’s glance meets me like a whipcrack. Shut it, I can almost hear him say.
Dragging air through my nose, I reach for the door in silence and yank it open, my glare hard on Omar.
In my head I’m already seeing it. The door ripped off, swung like a sledgehammer, and smashing into that smug, unfairly beautiful face until his arrogance bleeds out.
Until those soft cheeks bruise purple. Until those red lips split and those bright green eyes finally stop seeing straight through my soul.
The nine guards straighten when Omar and Ruel step into the doorway. Omar nods, and understanding his silent order, three men pull away from the group, making them six left.
I fold my arms, watching each one of them. They all look fit and honestly ready. One by one they introduce themselves… names, ranks and specialties.
Of course none of them have ever fought in a battle like this before so they'll need a bit of brushing.
Then the last one steps forward. He's the tallest of them all. His raven-black hair is woven into two waist-long braids that swing like dark ropes.
His sharp blue eyes that seem to drink light instead of reflect it, unsettles me a little. There's a black cowry-shell necklace resting against the hollow of his throat.
His high cheekbones and full lips are also hard to miss. Especially with the glittering ring on his lower lip.
“I’m Bukasvad, I've served in the park force for a year.” He says plainly.
I can’t name it, but every instinct I have screams to pay special attention to this one.
I pull my gaze away from Bukasvad but it slams straight into Omar’s furious glare.
What the fuck is that look for?
I return it, full force, keeping my eyes on him even when he looks away. His jaw stays clenched tight though.
“Walk with me,” Ruel says to our newest addition. “I’ll show you around the base.”
They nod and fall in behind him in organized steps.
Omar lingers, along with the three other men, speaking low with their heads close.
Suspicious bastard.
“Where is Sergeant Scarface?” Omar asks suddenly, like the question just occurred to him.
“On patrol,” I answer flatly.
“Take me to him.” He orders nonchalantly.
I frown, prepared to refuse when Ruel catches my eye with his warning gaze.
Fine.
I turn and start walking, deliberately lengthening my strides. Let the short prick run to keep up. I keep at it for a while and don't look back until I'm in the woods.
But the moment I do look back, I realize Omar isn't following at the pace I'd hoped he would be.
He’s standing under one of the old pear trees, his hands folded behind his back, staring up at the fruit like it personally offended him.
He almost looks cute.
“You coming or not?” I call out, striding back to him.
Omar chuckles, shakes his head then without looking at me he answers, “That depends on how good you are.”
I freeze.
My brain stutters, trips, then slams into the gutter.
Did he just…
Fuck.
Is he… flirting?
Heat floods my neck, moving lower real quick. And heck, my body likes the idea way more than my mind is prepared to admit.
I don’t know what to say. So I do the only thing I can think of. I stride over, reach up, and pluck one of the ripe pears from the branch. Then I hold it out to him.
The peacock doesn’t take it.
Instead he jumps effortlessly and grabs a higher branch, pulling himself up. The movement is so smooth and controlled, that for one stupid heartbeat I forget to hate him and actually find myself admiring his grace.
But I realize more grace when I see it.
His ass.
Dear fucking goddess, never have I been graced with such beautiful view in my life.
Round and perfectly firm. Damn those fitted trousers, they leave nothing for my imagination. I’m suddenly, painfully aware that I’ve been staring at it for years and pretending I wasn’t.
I bet it’s soft.
I’m still thinking that idiotic thought when the branch suddenly groans.
With a cry Omar slips.
I lunge, throwing my arms up. But of course my hands find exactly one thing.
His ass.
His soft round butt.
Damn am I a sinner! Because I squeeze. But I swear it's pure reflex and immediately I realize what I'm doing, I set him on his feet.
Breathing hard with his face flushed, Omar's eyes widen with shock and something close to mortification.
I smirk, finding the whole thing hilarious.
“Careful, Sir. Wouldn’t want you to hurt anything important now, would we?”
Omar’s face goes from pink to crimson in half a second. He looks furious and embarrassed… and beautiful.
Without getting a word out, he storms off.
I pluck two more pears, toss one in the air, catch it, and jog after him.
When I catch up he’s walking like he's got fire on his tail.
“Disappointing,” I drawl, biting into the fruit. “All that pride is still buried so deep. I thought the king’s favourite lapdog would’ve learned to bend by now.”
Omar whirls. “You overgrown, mouth-breathing…”
I cut him off with a laughter and that does it for him.
Omar swings.
I catch his fist in my palm, twist it, and then slam his back against the nearest tree.