Chapter 75: Her Touch Gives Calisto Life

She was reflexively moving toward the library. Immediately stopping upon recognizing her obedience. She jolted to a stop. “No!” She reached for Calisto.

“What am I going to do?” Calisto waved her hand through the bed to show how her hand simply passed through.

“Help me.” Elsabet’s blue eyes darkened with desperation and she reached out to grasp Calisto’s hand. It vibrated both of them, rattling the room in a way that distorted both of their focus.

Calisto’s faded pink flesh hardened and darkened. Becoming something substantial.

“Valkyrie.” His voice was hypnotic. “Come to me.”

Her body vibrating as she resisted his magic. Finally, she surrendered releasing Calisto’s hand with an epithet. Elsabet swore vehemently.

Calisto fell to her knees in shock staring at her hand. But Elsabet was already heading for the door. “How?”

“I hate your hypnotic voice!” Elsabet was shouting. “I’m not your hound!” But her feet took her down the corridor, pulling open the door and closing it behind her.

Bast didn’t shout. Walls had never been an impediment to him calling her.

Elsabet locked her heels at the top of the stairs fisting her hands and huffing long breaths as she fought the power pulling her down to the first level.

“Do you miss your Quandary?” The gold Lord called to her. His words soft, yet unyielding. The threat unmistakable.

Come to me. Or I’ll come up and find you…

Huffing, she squared her shoulders and finished the trek to the library. Upon entering the room and seeing him she growled in her throat.

He caught the slight flutter of her heart and a hitch in her breathing. She does desire me. He smirked.

She’d not come to him in so long he had become unsure. Ever since they’d talked about her pregnancy, she’d been dodging him. Spending many hours alone in her chamber. Sharpening her claws on the walls.

She glowered at him.

Ah. And she hates me all the more for it.

“My Lord.” She stated derisively.

Bastard, is what she means.

“Sebastian.” He corrected from where he lounged in his deep backed chair near the fireplace.

The same one she prefers.

“As you murmured in the dark only a few nights past.” He lowered his voice. Unable to resist taunting her.

Her eyes narrowed and flashed red.

There you are. One leg hung over the arm of the chair and his arm draped across the back. White silk ruffled at the neck of his shirt, the cuffs were rolled up his forearms and dangling open partway down his torso. Exposing a ‘v’ of tanned flesh. The shirt hinted at his rippled abdomen and taut chest beneath the few buttons. His breeches were designed with straps clasped up over his shoulders to go under an overcoat. Black boots shined in the light of the flames.

As she eyed him, he hooked his fingers in the straps over his shirt and pulled them free. Lifting a glass of amber colored liquid to hold loosely in his hand while using the other to undo the buttons of his shirt to reveal the pendant against his tanned neck. Look all you wish.

Her eyes lit greedily at the glimpse before it dawned on her what his actions suggested.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was haughty.

“If you’re going to look at me as though undressing me in your mind, I thought I might offer your imagination some assistance.” He quirked a brow at her as though asking permission. Golden hair framed his tan face, flowing back from his forehead. The warm color of his hair caressing his collarbone and contrasted brightly with the stark white of the shirt.

Though he appeared casual, she assessed him with the trained eye of a warrior.

But she’s not looking away.

“Cease!” She put out a staying hand.

“And if I don’t?”

Will you be tempted?

“Do you enjoy teasing me?” She hissed.

You’ve no idea…

“Vastly.” He laughed. His body taut, ready for battle and eyes alert as he studied every nuance of movement she made.

His gaze lingered on her swollen belly. What will she do when the time gets close? Will she let me near the infant?

“You seem nervous.” She stated.

Incredibly so. Cocking his head at her he was impressed at her perceptiveness. Tabling his drink with a distinct click, he rose in a smooth motion. Standing before her, feet apart he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Forgive my discomfort, My Lady. The last time we had a discussion you decided to slit me open.” Though his tone was expressionless, it was obvious from the tightness of his face, that he still harbored resentment for the attack.

Even through the cloth of his shirt, she observed the size of his muscled arms. Noting he was a formidable adversary physically. “That wasn’t the last time we’ve spoken. We’ve talked since then.”

In the hallway or at meals. And only for monosyllabic answers from you.

“Not at length.” He corrected. “That was the last time I tried to talk to you.”

Tried to help.

“I don’t do well with closeness.” Her voice was barely audible.

You have before…

“I noticed.”