Plan B
1082 Words
~AUTHOR POV~
The smell of roses and wet dirt filled the air. It was trapped under the tall stone ceiling of the private bathhouse.
Steam drifted up from the big wooden tub sunk into the floor. It made the dark, pointy wall designs look blurry. Bright fire torch glowed from the wall, making a dancing shadows on the wet marble walls.
Two beautiful women in white silk dresses knelt by the tub. The clothe hugged their bodies.
Their hands were covered in oil as they touched a man’s chest.
The first woman ran her fingers lightly over his
collarbone, stopping on the thick scars on his tanned skin.
The other rubbed the tight muscles on his back, her warm breath hit his neck.
Their movements were slow and hypnotic.
His eyes closed enjoying the soothing pleasure.
The air suddenly shifted.
He didn’t open his eyes, instead lifted his left hand out of the water.
Water droplets fell from his fingers. A black ring on his index finger carved like a snarling wolf glowed faint red.
The big oak doors at the end of the room opened slowly with a loud creak. The doors were thick and reinforced with iron.
A tall man walked in. His dark leather armor was wet from the night rain in the courtyard, his cloak was soaked and dripped water onto the clean marble floor.
He stopped a few steps from the tub and bowed his head low.
“My lord.”
The man in the tub raised his palm at the two men and they froze, their hands stopped moving on his skin.
In one second, the soft, flirty mood was gone. It was replaced by fear.
They scrambled back. Their wet silk dresses stuck to them as they rushed to the side door.
Their bare feet made quick, slapping sounds on the wet tiles before they vanished behind a thick velvet curtain.
Now it was quiet.
His cold eyes opened slowly, the light reflected in them like an image.
He reached out to a silver plate on the stone ledge beside him and picked one dark purple grape into his mouth.
He chewed it and leaned his head back.
“Speak.”
His word was barely a whisper, but it carried power.
“We have already cleared the Winter pack as you ordered.”
A slow smile pulled at the lord’s lips. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the hot water and the news of a job well done.
“But—”
That one word hung like a knife.
A heavy and suffocating silence followed.
The only sound was water dripping from the cloak onto the stone floor.
Tick. Tick.
The lord’s eyes darkened instantly.
“But?”
“Be… before I could get the letter...” The warrior’s voice shook. His hands clenched into tight fists.
“Someone showed up and ran off with it.”
Splash!
The lord shot up in the middle of the tub. His chest was rising and falling fast. He slammed his fist down on the wooden edge. The wood groaned. A huge wave of hot water spilled over the sides, soaking the stone floor and the warrior’s boots.
The warrior dropped to his knees and bowed lowly, his whole body stiff.
“How could you!”
“Forgive me, my lord! I didn’t see it coming. He was… he was like a ghost.”
“Don’t dare give me stupid excuses!” His ring shone red again.
Shring–
The dagger at the warrior’s hip flew out of its sheath on its own. It hung in the air for a second, then cut down fast like silver lightning.
The blade cut his left cheek. A thin, straight line opened. Red blood ran down his jaw.
Yet he didn’t move or blink. His eyes stayed on the wet stone under his hands.
“How did you mess up something this important, Max?” The lord’s voice was low and deadly. He stepped out of the tub. Water dripped off his scarred, naked body.
“It seems I’ve been too soft on you lately.”
His jaw clenched and he grabbed a heavy dark silk robe from a chair and shoved his arms in. He tied the belt hard.
“I should have done it myself if I knew you were slipping. Now how do we fix this mess?”
“I deserve to die for failing you, my lord.”
A cold mocking laughed filled the bathroom.
The lord walked toward him slowly. Each wet footprint on the marble sounded like a death sentence. He stopped right in front Max.
And a cracking sound followed. Five black claws slid out from the tips of his right fingers. They looked like polished stone and was sharp.
He reached down and slid the claws under the Max’s chin, forcing his head up.
The claws poked the skin of his throat. One wrong move and it would cut his throat open.
Max’s throat went tight. He looked up into his master’s cold, hunter’s eyes. He didn’t dare breathe. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against the black claws on his neck.
“Tell me, Max, If I kill you right now… where would I find another man as loyal as you?”
Then the claws pulled back in one smooth motion. His hand turned into a hard grip on Max’s shoulder.
With one strong pull, he yanked him up to his feet.
Max stumbled a little, then steadied himself. He kept his head down and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Thank you for your mercy, my lord.”
The lord turned away and walked to a small table with a crystal bottle on it.
He poured himself a glass of wine. The firelight shimmered in the liquid.
“Since you couldn’t get the letter, we move faster and go to the second plan”
“You are as wise as ever, my lord,” Max said.
The lord sipped the wine. His eyes fell on the ring on his finger. He pressed his thumb against the wolf’s nose.
“You know what needs to be done.”
“Yes.”
He turned back. His eyes narrowed. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
“The next thing I want to hear is the news of his death. Don’t fail me again.”
“I understand, my lord.”
Max bowed, his fist on his chest.
- Writer
