Page 4 of Breeding with His Enemy

"Oh, really?" I turned my attention to the cowering human, still kneeling amidst the chaos. Wine pooled on the floor, having spared Jaro's pants and boots.

"He... he...!" Jaro stammered, searching desperately for support. The other warlords appeared amused, while the humans remained uncertain.

"He what? You think he orchestrated this tablecloth incident? Deliberately?"

With a growl, Jaro swung his dagger, His normally dead eyes flaring with the maniacal fury that I had so often seen when he and I crossed paths. Before it met its mark, I deflected it with my own, positioning myself further between Jaro and the waiter.

Jaro growled in anger and sheathed his dagger, adjusting his disheveled attire. Madame Luxana rushed over, offering her profuse apologies.

"I'll arrange for replacement attire immediately, Mr. Tarsar."

"I'm leaving! I demand a refund for this debacle!" Jaro snatched his coat and stormed towards the exit. Madame Luxana trailed after him, muttering about clauses and terms.

I harbored no illusions of a refund for him. Such were the pitfalls of a fragile ego.

Sheathing my dagger, I caught the brunette's gaze. Her breath came rapid, the deep neckline of her red dress revealing the swell of her breasts with the rise and fall of her chest. She appraised me without fear, her expression a mix of gratitude and surprise. She moved past me, dropping to the ground to aid the waiter in collecting the scattered debris.

It only took seconds for the rest of the party to recover and resume their conversations.

We were all better off for Jaro’s absence, in my opinion. The women, especially, were spared an unsavory fate.

Retrieving my glass and bottle, I returned to my table. Before long, Madame Luxana approached, expressing her gratitude for preventing a waiter's untimely demise at her Elite Auction.

"You're welcome, Madame. Jaro and I have crossed paths before. He's rather hotheaded."

"His reputation precedes him in that regard." Madame Luxana smoothed her feathered wings, still slightly ruffled. "Did you witness what happened? Did the waiter intend Mr. Tarsar harm?"

Though I didn't glance towards the brunette, I recalled her self-assured look as she gazed at Jaro, awaiting the tablecloth's descent. What had possessed her? Still, I smiled. The audacity to challenge a warlord, risking his lethal retribution... It was foolhardy, yet it showed courage.

"The waiter was not at fault," I stated firmly, leaving no room for further elaboration. She nodded her thanks and fluttered away.

Just as I prepared to retrieve another bottle, a shadow eclipsed my glass, momentarily blocking the gaudy red lighting that covered the ballroom.

I looked up, and there stood the brunette, bathed in crimson light, resembling a flickering flame in her silken gown. I reclined in my chair, offering a smile.

"Hello."

"Hi. I'm Jasmine. I think I owe you my thanks."

"In that case, you're welcome."

She shifted, brow furrowing. The high slit in her dress exposed a expanse of thigh, drawing my gaze back to her face. "Is that all?"

I shrugged. "I don't like it when humans feel beholden to me."

"Have you ever considered that perhaps you owe something to humans?"

Her words caught me off guard, a simple notion framed in anger. "I can't even fathom what that might entail."

A spark of fury flashed in her eyes, and I thought she might storm away.

"Aren't you here to bid on someone?"

My frustration surged, my scowl directed not at her, but at Father. "Yes, but not by choice."

“Well, if you end up winning the auction, won’t you be grateful to that human?” Her anger had calmed and the way she spoke was practiced, like she was explaining something simple.

I grunted, never having entertained such a notion before. "Grateful to a human." It seemed inconceivable.

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