There, dancing like a common harlot upon this stage of ill repute, was his mate.
He stood so fast his chair crashed backward to the floor. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Barely containing his rage, he growled at the men in the bar and sent out a mental command. At once, every patron lowered their eyes and tilted their heads away from the stage.
Apparently undeterred by her audience’s sudden lack of interest, Larissa continued. Could she not see the crowd that watched her so avidly, with eyes full of lust and minds full of dishonorable thoughts?
She danced. Her hips swaying, mimicking the intimate motions that should be shared only by man and wife. He was mortified for her.
Her fingers tugged the knot of the tie. Her left hand stroked up and down the narrow strip of fabric. Her actions somehow stimulated an image of his very own anatomy—her hands working his flesh until he swelled to the point of pain that would be eased only by plunging into her warmth.
Dear God, she had to be stopped. Looking back one last time at the practically sleeping crowd, satisfied no eyes were on her, he sprung to the stage, but not before buttons went pinging and her breasts were exposed.
Larissa stumbled back into her chair with a startled scream. Staring up at him, pie-eyed with fear, she gasped. “Bishop King!”
Fury spun through him, hot and hungry for a hunt. He wanted a reason to punish her. His lip curled as he sneered. “Go ahead, Larissa, run.”
Chapter 8
Larissa’s fear ricocheted off Eleazar. She bolted to the door at the back of the stage with immortal speed. He reached it first. His chest swelled at the rush of adrenaline. Some deep-seated instinct wanted to chase her.
His heart pounded with the rush of blood and a long-forgotten emotion pumping through his veins. Arousal.
She stood before him, dark hair tousled around her oval face, eyes wide, and lips parted as she caught her breath. Her shirt, no longer in possession of buttons, gaped open, exposing the valley between her full breasts, the length of her long, trim torso, and her narrow hips. He resented her nudity, but not as much as he resented the scrap of black silk covering the V between her thighs.
Glaring into her eyes, he suffered a jolt of disorienting déjà vu but shoved it away. “Your family has been worried about you.” A twitch of irritation groused at the thought of her bothersome husband, Silus Hostetler. Soon, he would be a non-issue. “It’s time to return home and honor your duties.”
“I’m not going with you.”
Her impudence was expected, based on everything he’d heard of the willful female. He reached forward, drawing the edges of her shirt together. “You’ve had your fun with the English. Now, it’s time to come home.”
“I’ll only leave again. I will not live out my eternity as Silus Hostetler’s oppressed wife.”
She had, at least, one detail correct. “Be that as it may, I have a duty to return you to your family and rightful place. The English world is dangerous. You’re not safe here.”
“I don’t care. I’ll… I’ll learn to be stronger.”
She was trembling. Her fear of him would be another inconvenience. He was quickly losing patience. “Enough. Your situation is not up for debate.”
“It’s my life!”
“Come with me now, and you won’t be in too much trouble when you return.”
Her chin quivered. “And if I refuse?”
“We both know your objections will only take you so far. You’re no match for me, and you don’t belong here in the English world. You certainly do not belong here on this stage. If you fight me, it will only double my determination. Come with me easily, and you can atone quickly, putting all of this behind you.”
Regardless of Eleazar’s position, he technically would have no authority over another male’s wife. A female’s husband decided which methods of discipline suited their marriage. There seemed a sensible order to resolving the complication of Larissa’s unhappiness, but her stubbornness was confusing matters, and he wasn’t prepared to show a vulnerable side just yet.
Silus saw his wife’s disappearance as public humiliation and a direct insult to him. Her absence implied something lacking in Silus’s character, and the male openly planned to punish her. Eleazar suspected he’d beat her until his bruised ego fully healed.
He would never let that happen. But Eleazar also would never tolerate such loose English behavior from a mate.
“I’ll only run again. I’m never going back to that life.”
Regardless, he was her bishop and she would be wise to obey him before overly complicating an already complicated matter. “And what of your family? Do you plan on living out your immortal existence and never seeing your parents or brothers or little Grace again?”
“I see my brother now.”
He pressed his lips together. “Yes, Cain would be the one to find you and turn his back on his Order by not informing them of your whereabouts.”