Thirst for Adventure

Chapter 32

Comr clamped his hand around her wrist and applied subtle pressure to her hand, causing a reflex action which freed his ear from her grip. Still clasping her wrist, he turned to her, saying in a low voice, “You will not see this man again.”

“What?” She could not believe his gall. She yanked her hand free.

“I have said what I wish to say. I will not permit it.”

“You won’t permit—Listen, pal, what makes you think you’ve got the right—”

She stopped because Comr had grabbed her upper arms, furious. His luminous glare pierced her. “I have taken The Right. You will not do this.”

“I never gave you The Right.” What was she saying? She was starting to sound as crazy as him, for crying out loud.

He snorted at her foolish statement. “You do not give me The Right; I take it. We will talk no more of it.”

“We will, too. I can do whatever I choose, I have my—”

“No.”

“No? Excuse me, did I hear no?”

“At least there is nothing amiss with your hearing.”

Now that made her mad. “Well, you can go back to your forest primeval and leave me alone. I don’t like your attitude.”

“This matters not to me.” He shrugged arrogantly. It was impossible to have an argument with him, she fumed. He keeps changing the parameters to suit himself!

“Listen up, Comr, you may have ordained yourself my Chi’in t’se Leau but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me who to keep company with.”

“You are right.” She gave him a surprised look, which quickly darkened with his next words. “I give myself that particular authority.”

“Then I don’t recognize it.” Two could play at this game.

His look became thunderous. “You will.”

She refused to talk to him for most of the meal. Not that he noticed. Apparently Comr had finally found food he enjoyed in the Chinese restaurant. She’d never seen anyone eat so much moo goo gai pan in her life.

Her friends found him strange enough to be interesting, and soon were drinking mai-tais with him as if he were a convention institution of some kind. She was beginning to suspect he could drink them all under the table and still be able to battle a microwave or two.

She was not at all happy about this sudden possessive attitude of his. Maybe he feared that she would abandon him. Maybe he was insecure, being in a new place, feeling strange…

The rich sound of his laughter broke into her thoughts.

That man never had an insecure day in his life, you i***t! He’s just an arrogant beast!

She drummed her fingers on the table.

How to deal with him—that was the question. She looked over at him again. Comr was talking to her friend Kristen. He turned his head at that moment and coolly met her eyes.

Leo stared him down, lifting her chin a notch. Comr raised an eyebrow at her, an unspoken challenge.

Obviously he wasn’t backing down from his stand.

And he didn’t seem terribly wounded by her silent treatment. On the contrary, by the gleam in his eye, the man actually seemed amused by it. She turned away from his gaze in pique, not missing the sound of his low chuckle as he turned his attention to the other end of the table.

There was a name for men like him. She shuddered distastefully.

A horrible thought occurred to her. What would he be like in his own environment? She shuddered again. Thank God she’d never have to witness that display of swaggering lordliness. The very thought of it made her ill. No sense upsetting herself, for thankfully she’d never be in such a position.

Even though she was wearing her sweater, she inexplicably felt a chill run down her spine.

After dinner, everyone walked back to the convention center main hall area, deciding to mill about and mingle until party time. Comr was waylaid by the artist they had met earlier in the day.

Kristen decided to use the opportunity to grill Leo on the mysterious subject of Comr. Since the hall was warm, Leo unzipped her sweater and slung it over a couch. The torque gleamed brightly in the fluorescent lighting.

Comr felt a strange pulling sensation.

He slowly turned his head toward Leo, his eyes widening in shock. The Shimalee! By Aiyah, she wears the Shimalee! Comr stood transfixed, feeling its power even from this distance. There was no doubt in his mind now why he had been brought here.

So, the ancient prophecy was true.

Knowing that this was not the place where danger threatened the woman, he abruptly turned and walked away, leaving the artist talking to the air. There was much that needed to be done. He would avoid the nuisance of The Challenge and take care of the first now.

He headed back to the hotel.

Leo was being thoroughly grilled by Kristen. The girl was like the Spanish Inquisition when she set her mind to it. And no one knows when the Spanish Inquisition will strike!

Leo smiled to herself while deftly avoiding answering some of the more pointed questions. She looked up, expecting to see Comr standing nearby and was surprised when she didn’t spot him. That wasn’t like him. He had made it a personal mission not to let her out of his sight. The last time she had seen him he was talking to that artist fellow…

There was a curious buzzing of voices down at the end of the hall by the doors, moving her way.

The crowd suddenly parted like the Red Sea and Comr strode through, wearing his original caped costume. The bright white of his shirt shimmered against his golden tan skin as his black pirate boots pounded forcefully across the cement floor. His midnight cape with the golden symbols swirled around him as he purposefully made his way to her.

Leo’s breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten how magnificent he looked in his own raiment.

As he approached her, he whipped out the Cearix and went down on one knee, his cape floating about him. Bowing his head, he held the Cearix out to her, blade facing her, saying in a firm, bold voice, “Your servant.”