The Immortal Chronicles | | b o o k 2

5. tribute to brutality

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IMMORTAL CHRONICLES : BOOK ONE : beck dedrick

. . .

Among other things, like getting away with murder, Beck Dedrick had a fancy for the finer things in life such as spending the night with beautiful, nameless young women. Gods, did he love beautiful, nameless young women. They were among the few individuals he'd show a pinch of regret if they happened to die by his hand. They rarely ever did, though—not since the last time he allowed himself to beg over a young woman by her name.

But that was in the past, and Beck lacked the desire to dwell on the past. He enjoyed the present very, very much.

He was resting on his back and had been for the past hour with his eyes turned up to the ceiling—he couldn't sleep, but that didn't matter. He didn't mind the insomnia, he seldom did, and took that time to trace the curvature of the woman's spine from the graceful dip of her neck to the incline of her shoulder blades. He was certain she wasn't sleeping, but she looked peaceful. Whenever he turned his head to look at her, her eyes were closed, her cheek resting on her forearms.

When he looked at her then, she peaked through one eye at him and shifted her hand to run down the trail of his arm. "You should sleep," she told him, voice partially muffled by her other arm. "You said you'd have to leave in the morning."

"It's practically morning," he argued, shifting onto his side so his face rested directly beside hers. She smiled at him, dragging her eyes from his, down past his chest to where his torso disappeared beneath the sheets. When her attention returned to his face, his lips were pulled back in that devilish grin that could make a woman swoon and a man shite his trousers in fear.

She rolled herself onto her back, exposing the shadows of her breasts beneath the sheets. He peppered wet kisses across her neck, prepared to delve deeper just when—

"Saying goodbye, are ya?" Gerard. The bastard was standing just inside the tent flap, a cheeky grin on his smug face. Beck sighed against the skin of the beauty's neck and pushed away, sitting up and glaring at the most wicked sonuvabitch that ever was.

The lady didn't shy away, in fact, she stretched her arms up and behind her. Beck pulled the sheets up to cover her, but he doubted he was fast enough to stop Gerard from taking a gander. "You're welcome to say goodbye too, Gerry," the lady said.

"That's mighty swell of you to-"

"What do you want, Gerard?" Beck demanded, rubbing at his temples and making sure to express his clear annoyance through his sharp glare. Gerard only smiled wider.

He tipped his head towards the tent flaps and said, "Eton's all saddled up and ready for you."

Beck lowered his gaze with a frown crossing his features, feeling the soft touch of the lady's hand crawling over his bare back. When he looked up to his friend next, it was with a smirk. "I'll be out in a minute. Just give me some time to say goodbye, as you put it."

Gerard hadn't even left the tent before Beck returned his full attention to the young lady, bracing his hands on either side of her short brunette hair and eliciting a passionate moan through her lips. Outside of the tent, Gerard smirked at the stablehand, who stood on the sidelines waiting for Sir Dedrick to pick up his horse. "Give the lad a few more minutes. He's gettin' ready," Gerard told him, patting the boy on the shoulder as he walked away.

Beck's bout with the lady gave enough time for the sun to peak over the horizon, and cast a weak glow through the red fabric of his tent as he hiked up his trousers and lower his lightweight armor onto his shoulders. He fastened the straps over his chest, which was covered by the thick material of his under-armor vest. His riding boots were tightly fitted around his calves, and crossed with belted straps and a small, hardly noticeable leather sheath for a hidden blade.