Page 31 of Honorable Convictions
“Maybe that’s why you instantly resort to insults.”
As his chin lifted, Mitchell’s mouth firmed. “I asked you to do something for me last week. Did you think about it?”
“I did, but I don’t know if you’re going to believe my answer.”
“I doubt lying comes that easy to you.”
“I avoid it whenever possible.”
“So answer my question, Blondie.”
“The answer is that I’m not angry at you for it. I haven’t been since training. Does it come to mind on occasion? Yeah, undoubtedly, but it makes me irritated with myself because I don’t want to remember it. I’m not mad at you because of that.”
“But you are mad at me.”
“You hurt my feelings, making me angry, and the jokes you share with your friends about me are infuriating. I’m irritated that you think you know me and have all these opinions about me although you’ve never bothered to spend time with me. And I’m frustrated that after over a century of this bullshit, you’re not willing to accept that I might want something different for my life. I want happiness and an end to being lonely and missing out on a partner.”
“And what you can’t seem to understand is that it hurts my feelings when you refuse to entertain the possibility that I could be the person to make you happy. I have just as big of a desire to not be lonely, and I desperately would love a partner too.”
Pierson was at a loss for words, so he turned to the television and let the silence grow. For whatever reason, even after such a revealing conversation, it didn’t feel awkward or strange. Instead, it was two men building a friendship, and Pierson had no idea what to think about that.
Chapter 17
Reverent Knight Drystan Gylde-Kempe had his lips pressed against his mate’s, and although Conley never lost an opportunity to sneak in his tongue, they were at work, so it couldn’t go any further. When Conley pulled away and their eyes met, Drystan didn’t miss the banked desire in the scaly golden depths of his stunning gaze. Always a flirt, Conley winked as he dropped into the chair next to him. The door to the conference room whipped open to reveal one of two Venerable Knights that had been resurrected on the same day as him and Conley, though his other half had been imprisoned in a box for centuries, unbeknownst to everyone but a select few, which hadn’t included Drystan.
Aching terribly for something elusive, he’d been unaware his mate was in stasis waiting to be awakened. Learning the truth after his memory was restored, Drystan had heaped the entire blame on his friend, Arch Lich Chander Daray. It had taken him time, and contrary to what Conley thought, Drystan hadn’t pouted but had to work through his anger. Chander was one of his closest pals again and Drystan never forgot that thanks to the tenacious necromancer, he had forever to enjoy with Conley.
“Where’s Arvandus?” Conley asked while Roman grabbed a seat.
“At his desk, making kissy face with Albrecht.”
Years ago, Arvandus had been reunited with his mate, Skeleton Lord Albrecht Ruarc-Daray. The always cloaked sentinel was part of a revered group known as the Skeleton Seven, and they helped their leader rule their race. Albrecht and Arvandus adored one another, and Drystan hoped one day soon Roman would find his other half as well. Like the Reverent Knights and Arvandus, his life was dedicated to the Order of the Fallen Knights, and he’d worked tirelessly since 1369, after his resurrection, to protect the Council of Sorcery and Shifters.
Before anyone could comment further, Arvandus appeared, wearing his ready smile. “Apple says hi.”
Although Drystan loved that Arvandus had such a cute nickname for his mate, it was difficult to think of a deadly assassin as a fruit. “Does he really enjoy being called that?”
Arvandus’s expression was coy. “Of course, why wouldn’t he?”
“Drys is jealous I don’t call him something adorable,” Conley remarked.
“I believe the word you’re looking for is grateful, not jealous.”
Conley grinned at him, put a hand on Drystan’s thigh, and squeezed. “Did you want to start the meeting, melon?”
“Not if you call me melon again,” Drystan replied while Roman and Arvandus chuckled.
“Hold on a sec, I forgot something,” Arvandus commented, springing out of his seat, and leaving the conference room.
“I guess he was concentrating too much on Albrecht to remember anything else,” Roman said with a shake of his head. Once a playboy who banged nearly everyone he met in a social setting, in the last decade or so Roman had grown reclusive, and Drystan wondered why Fate was waiting so long to pair a man who was clearly ready to be with his mate.
“I got it,” Arvandus announced, racing in with a thick binder. “I haven’t had a chance to read the whole thing, but I had a meeting this morning in DC and got this. It might be a game changer.”
“You weren’t even supposed to be in DC this morning, how did you have a meeting?” Conley asked, taking the binder from Arvandus.
“I went in to check on our newest Juris Knight assigned to DC, and he asked if I could spare a few minutes. I would’ve moved anything I had, considering everything going on with him, so it was a no-brainer to shuffle my schedule.”
“I still can’t believe we allowed Pierson’s situation to devolve to this. It’s our job as supervisors to be sure we’re taking care of these immortal knights. For one of our best Juris Knights to be unhappy and overworked is a failure for us, not him,” Roman complained.
