Page 7 of The Time Of Kings (An Afterlife Story #1)

6

TIME FOR ANOTHER DRAVEN

T he moment he heard me say this, he tipped his head slightly to one side, as if it had been the very last thing he expected to hear coming from me.

But then after he had pulled me up to my feet, at the same time rising fully from the bed himself, I couldn’t help but be transported back thirty years. Back to all the times where Draven intimidated the hell out of me. Because right now this man was as far from the man I now called my husband as he could get. Just like my Persian King had been. And like then, it looked as if I was right back to dealing with a completely different king than what I was used to. And let’s just say that the blade held at my neck once more was a clear indication of that.

“Looks like I just found my thief… albeit a short one,” he added, looking me up and down, his eyes widening the moment he clocked my breasts as he must have thought I was a man to begin with. Although, with a face full of mud and wearing what would be considered men’s clothes, then I couldn’t say that I entirely blamed him.

“You’re a woman!” he shouted, and I would have laughed at how quickly he dropped the blade the second he realised this.

“Last time I checked, yes,” I said, now stepping away from him after he let me go. Again, I would have chuckled at the astonished expression on his face, that was if I wasn’t too busy trying not to gawk at him. Damn, was there ever a time that Draven lived through where he didn’t look hot as holy hell in a heatwave?! Jesus, a girl had no time-traveling hope. In fact, I felt like looking up to the Heavens and shouting,

“OH, COME ON!”

It was like they just wanted to toss temptation in front of me dressed like some living period drama, sex fantasy, and then popped the corn ready to watch the show. Now just give the man a lake to pull himself out of and my underwear would self-combust into satin dust.

He wore a fitted, double-breasted, black tailcoat with a high collar and a bone-coloured waistcoat. He also wore black knee breeches, and high, cuffed black boots that were far cleaner than my own mud-stained sneakers. His perfectly tied black cravat was a stark contrast to the pristine white shirt he wore underneath the suit, one that fit his wide shoulders and muscular arms like a glove. But even like this, there was no way to hide that powerful frame of his. One that was making me all hot and bothered just thinking about seeing it naked again. And it was no wonder, because Mr Darcy had nothing on him, and neither did my other period drama fantasy man…

Mr Rochester.

I found myself having to look away, as if this would help in cooling down my libido. While avoiding his gaze, I took in the room in more detail than when first running in here to hide. Naturally, being Draven’s bedchamber, it was a large room with two windows that faced the valley next to the castle and the same road I had been chased down.

A huge four poster bed was situated against the wall facing the windows, that were each dressed with thick red drapes. Each one tasselled with twisted gold threads. This matched the bed covers and the rest of the grandeur of the room. A theme that continued, with red velvet upholstery adorning dark spindled chairs tucked beneath a round table with three clawed feet.

Even more dark furniture dominated the space, just like Draven did, and even more so when my eyes kept creeping back to that incredible bed of his.

It was made from wood so dark, it almost looked black. The back and canopy above were carved with panels that held detailed scenes of a war between Heaven and Hell. Winged Angels were dressed like knights, aiming their swords down at the Demons emerging below. At the end of the bed were two large square columns about waist height that were topped with spindled bases. Above these were carved urn-shaped pillars that held up the other side of the canopy.

It was a beautiful bed, if not a little intimidating. But then I also knew that Draven certainly had a particular taste, even in our modern lives together. And speaking of Draven…

“Who are you?” he asked, folding his arms and, again, forcing me to take another step back before telling him,

“Well, I am certainly not a bandit, that’s for sure.”

He scoffed and said, “Nor do you look like a lady.”

Now it was my turn to scoff, despite seeing my own reflection numerous times and thinking the same thing.

“Well now we have established that I am neither a bandit nor, in your opinion, a lady , you won’t mind if I just see myself out,” I said, emphasizing the word ‘lady’ with a good deal of bitterness while trying my luck by making my way to the door. However, despite this hope to make it out of here as easily as that, I unfortunately didn’t get far. Not when Draven was blocking me in a second by slamming the door shut from behind me.

In that same second, I could feel his powerful presence millimetres away from my back, he was so close… something that turned out to be a bad thing for me as I inhaled in the delicious natural scent of him.

“That will not be happening, little thief,” he hummed in my ear, momentarily making me close my eyes and give in to the temptation of pretending, just for a second, it came from my husband. But in the end, reality was the elephant in the room, making me huff before turning around to face him. Then I told him sternly,

“I told you, I am not a… thief… I er…”

My rant ended when he suddenly took a step closer as he now seemed to be fascinated with my dirty hair. Going so far as to take some of the loose muddy strands between his finger and thumb. He then rubbed them together, and I ended up sucking air in quickly when he stated in an assertive tone,

“You’re blonde.”

I swallowed hard and took another step back, jumping when my back hit the door.

“Er… yes, like… like a lot of girls, yes.”

Of course, the words just stumbled from my lips because the memory of the kidnapper saying to only take the blonde now slammed back into me. Along with every time Draven had seemed fascinated with my hair back in my own time and, of course, I knew why.

His prophesied girl who would be known to him by her golden fleece.

He suddenly tagged a strong arm around my waist and pulled me in closer, rendering my attempt to put more space between us useless.

“But I think we both know… you are not like other girls,” he replied and again, he watched as I swallowed another lump down my throat before mentally scrambling for a way out of this. Of course, the way his voice dropped in a sexy timbre wasn’t helping either.

“Well, according to you, I’m not a lady either.”

One side of his lip crept up in a very Draven-like smirk at my sour reply. Then he dipped his head to my ear and whispered,

“No… you are so much more.”

I couldn’t help but shudder, something he must have felt with such a firm hold on me. The reaction gave him cause enough for those delicious lips to lift further, transforming that devastating smirk of his into a full-blown grin.

“I… erm… I thought I was a thief,” I stated, and this time I felt his smile against my skin, as he must have found at least one place on me that wasn’t dirty. That, or he just didn’t care anymore.

“Hmm, yes, and I have a feeling you’re about to steal something very important indeed.”

I couldn’t help but blush, turning my head away from him to look to the side. Something that was pointless when trying to hide my reddened skin as he wouldn’t have been able to see anyway. Not with this muddy face of mine.

“Well lucky for me, it wasn’t your porcelain vase,” I teased, now seeing for myself that was what had been smashed on the floor in his anger.

He suddenly threw his head back and laughed. And no matter which time period I was in, it was a sound I adored, and it shot straight to the core of me.

“Forgive me in allowing you to witness my temper. Only I had believed for a short time in your trickery of having me think you had evaded my capture by sprouting wings and flying away,” he said with humour lacing his words.

“Knowing my luck, I would have flown too close to the sun like Icarus… although I like to think I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to use waxen wings.”

He raised a surprised brow and once again, the usual traits I loved and adored pulled at my heart. His outfit choice was the only thing strong enough to force me to remember that this wasn’t my Draven. Which was most likely why I bit my lip. Something he certainly noticed, as his gorgeous dark eyes homed in on them, making me let them go instantly.

“You know of Greek mythology?” he asked, finally leaving the sight of my lips. A pair that thankfully didn’t taste like mud anymore and, honestly, I didn’t know what I found stranger… That he was still holding me while I was covered in said mud, or that he was having a conversation with me at all?

Especially considering I was a strange muddy woman he had found hiding in his room. Unless of course, he knew who I was to him? After all, Pip wasn’t here this time to do her funky voodoo ‘she is not the droid you’re looking for’ Jedi mumbo. Surely not though. I mean, he what…? Saw the barest hint of blonde hair and that was it? Was that really all it would take?

“I can also read,” I teased, making him smile again.

“Ah so a well-educated thief then… I must say, I am becoming increasingly intrigued by the second,” he replied, and unfortunately for me, in this time period, having Draven’s increasing interest in me wasn’t a good thing. Not when I needed to blow this medieval popsicle stand and get back to my time traveling crew.

Although, truth be told, I had no clue what era I was actually in. I knew from the way he was dressed that I wasn’t actually in medieval England, despite currently having this conversation in a castle. Yet what I did know was that I didn’t belong here and finding Draven was definitely a big time-traveling mistake on my part. Because if there was one thing I had learned from the last time I dipped my toe in the time traveling pool, that was Draven was off the menu. Because no matter what age of Draven I was dealing with, if he knew I was his Chosen One, then surviving this quest was no longer my biggest problem…

Escaping Draven was.

“Just as I am increasingly eager to get you out of these muddy clothes and into a warm bath.”

My eyes widened as I was flooded with hundreds of memories all at once of what happened every time Draven joined me for a bath. As if he knew precisely where my mind had ventured to, he chuckled, like he was pleased to discover I was not some frightful little virgin ready to jump at just the thought of him touching me.

However, letting Draven give me a bath was about as dangerous as taking up lion taming right now. Hence why I tried to disentangle myself from him, at the same time protesting,

“That’s quite alright, I will have a bath at the… erm… place I am staying.”

His look said it all, especially when it came with another sexy smirk… damn him.

“The place you are staying?” he asked, finally taking the hint and dropping his arms enough for me put some space between us.

“Yes, it has four walls and a roof and everything,” I argued, and he grinned at my banter.

“Hmm, sounds very well equipped indeed, but pray tell me, this dwelling in which you are staying… what is its name?”

I paused my struggling and hoped my expression wasn’t one of panic, like I feared it was.

“Erm… its name?” I asked, once more trying to edge towards the door. A door he seemed in no great hurry to let me out of, I might add.

“So as I may call on you like a gentleman,” he suggested, making my brain scramble to think.

“I am staying at the inn,” I said like this was some grand statement.

“The inn?” he asked, as if calling me on my bullshit was the most fun he’d had in decades. This made me question if there even was an inn around here? Well, I had come this far, so there was no backing out of my lies.

“Yes, the inn.”

“And which inn might that be?” he asked, pressing for more as my hand started to reach behind me and grasp the handle in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

“The inn in the town,” I said, silently praying that he would give up the damn bone and leave it be at that. Of course, no such luck, as clearly Draven wanted it spelling out.

“And its name?” he inquired, making me shake my head a little before telling him,

“Oh, I forget.”

“I see… and this inn in which you found lodging in, pray tell, how long have you been there?”

I shook my head again and pushed the hair from my face, wiping some of the dirt up my cheek.

“A few days,” I replied, despite feeling as if I was being led into a trap or something.

“Hmm, I see… the same inn that caught fire three weeks past and is still without those promised four walls and roof in which you speak… that inn, you say?” he asked, calling my bluff, and my answer to this was to laugh nervously before quickly tugging on the handle and trying to make a run for it.

Surprisingly, I actually made it halfway down the long hallway before I felt my body being swept up into his arms. I cried out the second my feet lost the floor before I was promptly carried back to his room with me screaming for him to let me go. The screaming not only didn’t deter him, but it didn’t even phase him. Not even when he saw a maid stop dead in her tracks and stare at us both in horror.

“You there, fetch some warm water for my bath…” he said, turning towards his door and finishing his sentence while looking down at me. Soon telling me exactly what he had planned for his unsuccessful runaway…

“…I have an untruthful little prisoner to clean.”