Amor Vincit Omnia (✓)

♕ Chapter 16

A.N: The beautiful poster is made by the equally beautiful SpiderWoman- , to whom I extend all my appreciation. Thank you, love!
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"You summoned me from a very perilous position, Julian. I may be your friend but..."

            "Sharing half of the Duchy's name does not make us friends, Paul, but mere collaborators." Julian's modulations emulated with those of a stern judge feasting from a culprit. "You knew about him being an abuser and you concealed this knowledge from everyone else around you. Sovereign immunity shall not stop me from punishing both of you."

            "Is that a subtle threat?" Paul's high-pitched voice rose by a couple of octaves.

            "No, it is the most straight-forward threat you will ever come across. Not even your so-called admirers have the guts to spit in your face when you deserve it."

            The entire context of the menacing retorts occurred mostly due to Paul's out of the blue arrival, which unsettled Julian from his personal bussiness – that of taking his wife to a proper, old-fashioned date. Freya was discontent at the sight of the discrediting Duke, but kept her thoughts to herself, much to Julian's relief.

            "I will have you... I will..." The Duke of Westbroke stuttered, feeling humiliated in front of his much more adamant fellow.

            "You will not have me either way. My security outdates the Queen's and I shall not allow anyone, especially both an insolent and indolent peer to put this institution at risk. Especially when my own wife is involved." Julian continued in a rigid voice, not the slimmest inflexion glimpsed throughout his speech.

            Paul needed to regain his status, even though it was rather impossible, or at least unproductive. He was aware that despite his pig-like appearance and unrefined demeanour, his skills of turning the knife surpassed anyone's expectations.

            "You surely resemble your father in his last years of official activity. Ready to impose himself over anyone he believed to be inferior. No wonder your Duchess has not produced an heir by now. Who would want to make love to a serpent?" Paul smirked with superiority, clinging on the hope of overthrowing Julian.

            "Is this the only ace up your sleeve?" Julian may have seemed unimpressed by his addressee's plot, but he did feel as if a dagger were twisted brutally between the cavities of his heart.

            Of curse he wanted to make love to her, but did he honestly have a choice when she stated her neutral position? She was abused and he did not possess the self-control one must own when having an intercourse with a former victim. He was a rough lover, not someone willing to wait at the entrance of a woman's core with his arousal up his neck.

            "I-I..." Paul stammered one more time, aware that his scheme was as pointless as a bench on a <<keep off>> patch of grass.

            Julian approached him, a barbarous look plastered on his face. He gripped Paul's fancy collar and with a swift, heinous motion, he made the tosser kneel down. His fingers never left Paul's recently sweaty back.

            "You know, there is a pressure spot at the back of your neck, a little below the cerebellum and just above the spinal cord. If pressed hard enough, you can go numb in less than five seconds. That gives you three choices: endure a few minutes of paralysis, enjoy the company of my wicked torturing employees or throw that bastard in the most hideous cell and let him rot in there."

            Suddenly, Julian lowered his face inches away from Paul's aghast features. "So, what shall we choose?" He smiled deviously, passing his tongue over his lower lip.