Read Online Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2 by Anitra Lynn McLeod - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anitra Lynn McLeod
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himself, but he couldn’t find inner peace today.
Who am I?
Mary informed him he was a little boy in a man’s body who thought only of himself. He was a ruthless, royal and smug bastard. At one time, he’d actually named his planet Prime Bastard, because everyone called him a bastard within five minutes of introduction; however, Duster beleaguered the name.
“I don’t want to go around introducing myself as Duster Jennings, Master-of-Arms to Prime Bastard. Any lady worth her salt will run screaming the other direction.”
When he refused to budge, Duster offered a challenging puzzle. Michael had to solve the three-dimensional crossword in the allotted time, or Duster would get to name the planet.
“Windmere.”
Michael made a deal and, even though he regretted the outcome, he didn’t go back on his word. When he’d asked Duster to explain the name, he refused and said, “Got the naming, not the explaining.”
With enough pomp and circumstance to gag a thousand elves, he swore in Duster Jennings as Master-of-Arms to Windmere.
What’s in a name?
Remarkably Average Mary. Whoever pinned that name on her should be hauled up against the nearest wall and slapped. It was so wrong in so many ways he wouldn’t know where to start. He felt the same anger over Windmere. Stupid, poofy name wouldn’t intimidate anyone.
“I am Michael Parker, Commander of Windmere.” He rolled his eyes at how lame it sounded. Lifting his chest, he bellowed, “I am Michael Parker, Commander of Prime Bastard.” He smiled. “Now that would strike fear in someone’s heart.”
His thoughts turned again to Remarkably Average Mary. After a comment by the bounty hunter, his guards re-dubbed her Scary Mary. Michael wouldn’t go that far, but she didn’t seem average at anything he’d seen. Her physical, verbal and mental skills were off the charts. Her scent was so complex to be almost unreadable but for the fringes: hard-edge compost fear and floral citrus desire.
Anxiety pulsed through him, dancing along his nerves as desire raced with it. A powerful fusion he was not familiar with. Rarely did he find his wants thwarted. If he couldn’t buy something, he took it. But for Mary. He couldn’t buy her and wouldn’t take her.
“So what choice does that leave me?”
Seduce her.
He left the solarium with the stack of morning reports gripped in his fist. He didn’t often sit and contemplate his life. He didn’t enjoy the view it gave him of himself. Mary had indeed held a mirror up to him. The longer he looked, the less he saw of details about himself he liked.
Chapter Seven
Twice, Mary had to ask House for directions to get back to her room after breakfast.
She regretted dumping real coffee on the floor, but she needed Commander to get the point—it didn’t matter what was on that stupid piece of paper, she wouldn’t have believed it anyway.
He’d struck a nerve, though. She’d been obsessed with finding out the truth of her parents since the age of twelve. Five years ago, a new obsession filled her, yet the need to know her parents still simmered in the back of her mind.
She considered telling him what he wanted to know but didn’t think he would let her go even if she did.
Escape paramount in her mind, she set out to examine everything in her bedroom. Exquisite dresses in all colors and sizes, reeking of a hundred individual perfumes, stuffed both walk-in closets. As she checked them for any potential weapons, she wondered why he kept them. Maybe they were trophies. Perhaps he’d kept one dress for each of his victims. If he had, he’d been a very busy man and probably didn’t have time for anything else.
She looked down at the dress he gave her. Had it been Kraft’s? Since it smelled brand spanking new, she didn’t think so. Did he think she would cast it off to him as another offering at his feet like all the rest?
“Not in this lifetime, pal.” Even at gunpoint, she wouldn’t surrender her ill-fitting
Who am I?
Mary informed him he was a little boy in a man’s body who thought only of himself. He was a ruthless, royal and smug bastard. At one time, he’d actually named his planet Prime Bastard, because everyone called him a bastard within five minutes of introduction; however, Duster beleaguered the name.
“I don’t want to go around introducing myself as Duster Jennings, Master-of-Arms to Prime Bastard. Any lady worth her salt will run screaming the other direction.”
When he refused to budge, Duster offered a challenging puzzle. Michael had to solve the three-dimensional crossword in the allotted time, or Duster would get to name the planet.
“Windmere.”
Michael made a deal and, even though he regretted the outcome, he didn’t go back on his word. When he’d asked Duster to explain the name, he refused and said, “Got the naming, not the explaining.”
With enough pomp and circumstance to gag a thousand elves, he swore in Duster Jennings as Master-of-Arms to Windmere.
What’s in a name?
Remarkably Average Mary. Whoever pinned that name on her should be hauled up against the nearest wall and slapped. It was so wrong in so many ways he wouldn’t know where to start. He felt the same anger over Windmere. Stupid, poofy name wouldn’t intimidate anyone.
“I am Michael Parker, Commander of Windmere.” He rolled his eyes at how lame it sounded. Lifting his chest, he bellowed, “I am Michael Parker, Commander of Prime Bastard.” He smiled. “Now that would strike fear in someone’s heart.”
His thoughts turned again to Remarkably Average Mary. After a comment by the bounty hunter, his guards re-dubbed her Scary Mary. Michael wouldn’t go that far, but she didn’t seem average at anything he’d seen. Her physical, verbal and mental skills were off the charts. Her scent was so complex to be almost unreadable but for the fringes: hard-edge compost fear and floral citrus desire.
Anxiety pulsed through him, dancing along his nerves as desire raced with it. A powerful fusion he was not familiar with. Rarely did he find his wants thwarted. If he couldn’t buy something, he took it. But for Mary. He couldn’t buy her and wouldn’t take her.
“So what choice does that leave me?”
Seduce her.
He left the solarium with the stack of morning reports gripped in his fist. He didn’t often sit and contemplate his life. He didn’t enjoy the view it gave him of himself. Mary had indeed held a mirror up to him. The longer he looked, the less he saw of details about himself he liked.
Chapter Seven
Twice, Mary had to ask House for directions to get back to her room after breakfast.
She regretted dumping real coffee on the floor, but she needed Commander to get the point—it didn’t matter what was on that stupid piece of paper, she wouldn’t have believed it anyway.
He’d struck a nerve, though. She’d been obsessed with finding out the truth of her parents since the age of twelve. Five years ago, a new obsession filled her, yet the need to know her parents still simmered in the back of her mind.
She considered telling him what he wanted to know but didn’t think he would let her go even if she did.
Escape paramount in her mind, she set out to examine everything in her bedroom. Exquisite dresses in all colors and sizes, reeking of a hundred individual perfumes, stuffed both walk-in closets. As she checked them for any potential weapons, she wondered why he kept them. Maybe they were trophies. Perhaps he’d kept one dress for each of his victims. If he had, he’d been a very busy man and probably didn’t have time for anything else.
She looked down at the dress he gave her. Had it been Kraft’s? Since it smelled brand spanking new, she didn’t think so. Did he think she would cast it off to him as another offering at his feet like all the rest?
“Not in this lifetime, pal.” Even at gunpoint, she wouldn’t surrender her ill-fitting
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