Page 59 of Bound

In his mental planning sessions, he and Evrest were somewhere like a palais office or his room in the infirmary, not a few steps from where he’d dominated the man’s sister to mind-bending degrees. The blue dye streaks along his skull and neck were never part of the equation. Nor were the fingernail scratches now mingled with them. Certainly not the countless wrinkles in his clothes, or the distinctive scent with which they were still tinged. That blend of sea spray and spice unique to one person alone. The smell that surely Evrest detected too.

“I have it on good authority that the forest beasts are vegetarian. On the other hand, I cannot speak for certain palais pixies.”

Oh, yeah. The king had picked up on things. Unnervingly so.

“Though now I am wondering…do said pixies nibble all they want, or only bite with permission?”

And what the fuck came after unnerving?

He was damn sure it was aggravating. Maybe even infuriating. Yeah, probably that.

King or no king, he told the guy so with a pronounced flare of his nostrils. He was damn sure his gaze got fired up to match. “That’s a chunk of mighty bold assumption. Respectfully submitted, Your Majesty.”

“Respectfully accepted, Mr. Brickham.” A decisive whomp hit the air, courtesy of Evrest’s slamming palms. “But the best assumptions are based on plausible accuracy. And that precision is grounded in solid research.”

“Research.” He echoed it to buy himself a few valuable seconds. A lot could be observed in that amount of time. In this case, the scrutiny earned him nothing but a tall island monarch, standing with purposeful neutrality. Too neutral. Tranquility like that reminded him of green skies before a hurricane. Good surprises weren’t in the forecast. “So just what have those investigations revealed?”

He finished with a defined hike of a brow. It hardly fazed the king.

“You would have me detail it out?” Evrest volleyed. “Or shall we save valuable time by diving to the point?”

No more sardonic smirk. But damn it, Brick couldn’t rein back his gruff chuckle. “Under any other circumstances, Your Majesty, I’d be offering to buy you a few beers after this shitstorm is over.”

“At the bar in your Bastille club?”

So much for anticipating the hurricane. But at the same time, so much for thinking that gale was going to be terrible.

“Well, we have a few thrones in the place for you to pick from,” he supplied past quirking lips. “If that’s how you like to play.”

“I am not the subject of this discussion.” The man bit it out between seething looks. “And in many ways, nor are you.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.” He also couldn’t be more sincere about it. “And while I know my opinion still isn’t being solicited here…” He set his jaw to meet the man’s stare, gleam for determined gleam. “None of this is simple lip service. I mean it. Your sister is an incredible human being. I’m lucky for the chance to have known—”

He was severed short by the similar slash of the king’s hand. “’Twould not be a wise choice for us to discuss how you have known my sister, Mr. Brickham.”

Well, that made it official. If there’d have been a sword or ax in Evrest’s grip, Brick’s head would be rolling toward the corner.

Weirdly but awesomely, the adrenaline from that thought was…

Invigorating.

Shit. Was this actually him using a jolt of anxiety as a positive? Was this his brain thriving on the spur instead of descending toward dread? Fuck right it was. And while he wasn’t close to being full primeval against Evrest’s Godzilla, there was a symbolic katana in his armory now. He wielded it because he had to. Because if he didn’t, Evrest Cimarron would start twisting facts into his own sordid version of the truth.

“I didn’t force her,” he said with the full force of his conviction. “I did nothing of the sort, damn it. I know Carris made his point about that with some razzle-dazzle credibility, but—”

“Fahrmay,” the man all but snarled. “Silence your insolence.” Another gash of Evrest’s hand through the air. “What kind of an imbezak do you think I am?”

“Okay, chill out.” Brick stiffened. “I didn’t say that at—”

“I would believe my infant son’s babbling before a single syllable from Trystan Carris.”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he held his position, needing only a second of study on the man’s terse profile, before demanding, “Unless…I haven’t? Come on, man. Will you just unload it already?”

Evrest glanced over. His scowl was blistering but bolstering, likely a look he’d perfected through the years when needing to throw adversaries off his scent. At last, he pulled in a breath and spoke again.

“Razzle dazzle.” He dug into the new idiom with blatant curiosity, despite how his gaze revealed a decent comprehension of the context. “’Twould seem to me that Arcadian bonsuns do not have the market cornered on the stuff these days.”

And that was the end of the adrenaline gravy train. It wasn’t a great place to disembark.