Unwilling to Succumb (The Dragon Lorde #2)

Chapter Two: Ungentlemanly Gentleman

Silence is the loudest sound a person can create. It is known for being a quiet sense of stillness, and tranquility; an everlasting peace in one's heart. But alas, it's so much more. Silence can hold the heavy weight of unspoken words and the thickness of growing tension. Much like a hot tendril of fire coiling and lashing in the wind.

Silence can be represented in a painting. Paintings filled with a bloody demise, or scandalous affairs. They bring one to a booming silence, as they puzzle deeply in thought; wondering what truly occurred behind that stroke of a brush.

Several paintings decorated the decomposing wooden frames of the pub, yet there was only one painting that caught my eye. It was a painting of a beautiful church, with massive white steeples and a fancy glass door. It held a certain silent anticipation that piqued my interest, as my mind continued to picture who could lay behind its walls. Gold sparkled and shone from the frames each painting was encased in, but it held no glimmer to the numerous drunken gazes directed on me and my long scarlet hair.

"I-It's a woman!!" A man hollered from the back, with a finger raised in accusation.

A sly smile began to weave itself onto my lips. "Yes, thank you for noticing."

Silence held the room for a mere moment like a small child trying to hold air between its two puffy cheeks. The wooden chairs around the room stood frozen and soundless, even the soft noise of liquid being poured into a cup was muted. The orange candle-like glow in the pub seemed to dim dramatically as thirty pairs of beady eyes glared in my direction.

Oh, boy.

"Eh, this is a surprise. Isn't it, men?" A familiar masculine voiced out, before striding into my view. The man was the one and only Wimpleton, suited in the 'ever so famous' patchy moth infested jacket.

I raised my chin to meet the gaze of the man before me when I noticed it, the small, yet powerful glint of danger in his dark eyes:; like a poisonous viper coiled and ready to strike. My thoughts ran wild as my feet began to shuffle backwards, until my back slammed into a hard resistance that reeked of a putrid odor.

Certainly, a wall wouldn't smell so...so awfully masculine.

As I began to raise my gaze up, my brow was met with a broom of some sort as a handful of scratchy bristles pricked my skin.

How odd.

Grasping the wiry pieces between my fingers I gave it a curious, yet sharp tug. Instantly a shriek bellowed into my ear, causing my fingers and toes to curl. But that was when I noticed it. The snarled, chapped lips hidden beneath what seemed to be a mangy beast of a beard.

That's definitely not a wall.

The man behind me appeared taller than he actually was, with his bushy, curly hair and massive, tousled bristles. His dark, brown eyes glared heatedly down at me, yet I knew better than to be afraid of this beast of a man. One would need only a swift glance at his eyebrows to find themselves amused. For they appeared as similar to the size of two fat, hairy caterpillars, if only he could wiggle them so.

I scurried forward with an innocent smile alighting my lips. "Pardon me, sir." But I was only rewarded with a deeper snarl from the brooding man.

Perhaps, the man needed a further cheering up! If only I could turn his frown upside down...

But before I could pull my breeches up high, a throaty voice interrupted me.

"Why is there a pretty thing like ya doing in 'er, with men's clothing?" The patchy moth jacket man demanded, with a dark gleam in his eyes.