Page 81 of Not That Impossible

Nash frowned down at me. “By all means,” he said. “Pleasure me with your pretty mouth if you must. But what I meant was, go ahead and try to kill me with the knife you have hidden in your boot.”

Awkward.

“For which treachery I will of course be having you executed at dawn as a warning to all of your fellow hostages.”

“Executed? That seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I haven’t done anything.”

Yet.

“You didn’t come here to kill me then?”

“…ofcoursenot and frankly I amoffended.What?No. I wouldn’t know how. I am but a lowly foot solider. Who farms. Wheat. I am a wheat farmer. Most of the time. And was conscripted into the army.”

“Conscripted.”

“Yes. Forced to serve.”

“By your best friend the king.”

“…yes. He can’t be seen to have favourites, especially amongst the peasants.”

“Then you’re not a favourite?”

“Me? Pfft. No. I’m nobody.”

“If you’re nobody, I don’t need you as a hostage.”

“And bynobody, I of course mean I am dear to the king’s heart. Dearest of all, I would say. Apart from his concubine, Ray. I am an excellent and deeply valuable hostage. Whomst King Adam would be greatly miffed if you executed at dawn, even if Ididtry to kill you. Which I wouldn’t. Even though it would be justified. Maybe. I don’t know, I never studied ethics and stuff. Just…okay, so my baseline philosophy is, don’t be a dick. That’s about as complicated as that gets. Anyway. Where were we?”

I had one hand on his firm backside and the other still in his breeches.

“Your lies will not save you,” he said. “Fortunately, your king already has. I summoned you here to tell you that you have been successfully ransomed and will be returning to Fayreford. I have no further use for you. You’ll have to walk the two hundred miles back, of course, we can’t spare a horse. It’ll probably take you a month. If, that is, you survive the burning sun, the Canyon of Doom, the orcs encamped on the Blasted Wasteland, and then the wolves in the Forest of Despair. You’ve got your boot knife, though. Sure you’ll be fine.”

“What?”

“You’re free to go. Any time you like. Or now, that would suit me better. I’m expecting company.”

He eased himself from my grip and went to lounge seductively on his bed of furs.

I was still on my knees, hands in the air from where I’d been holding him, and I gawked as the tent flaps opened to reveal a tall and willowy young man. He was dressed mostly in chiffon scarves and sexy gold chainmail that was more holes than anything else. It wouldn’t stop a spoon. He sauntered in and crawled onto the bed like he owned it. “Who’s the filthy captive?” he said in a purring voice, straddling Nash.

“Oh. Is the random peasant still here?” the warlord said. “Ignore him. He’ll go in a minute.”

I pushed up to my feet. “I’ll just—oh. No preliminaries? Straight to it? Must have planned ahead.” The warlord’s date had ripped his chiffon trousers off and sat on Nash. They both moaned as he began to move. His moaning was a bit fake, if you asked me. “Excellent. I’ll…yep. Carry on.”

I rushed out so I didn’t have to hear the moaning, and—

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I think I preferred it when Liam shot me out of an airlock to actually writing about him shaggingsomeone else.

Who was this guy, anyway?

Where did he even come from? He could go right back there, thanks.

I was supposed to be overcome with passion when the boot knife was wrestled mercilessly from my desperate grip and I was sexily conquered on the floor of the tent.

Not get summoned, released into the wilderness, and forgotten about.

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