Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4)

by Cassandra Gannon

  Gods, he was going to come just from this man stroking his wings.

  Trystan swallowed thickly, trying to concentrate and failing miserably. “If you become unsure about this path, just pull back at any time.” It was hard to know what went on inside any of the wingless race’s heads and Galahad was especially confusing. But the knight was new at this and in his care. Trystan needed to protect him. “I will be fine. I will not stop you.”

  Galahad flashed a smirk at him, cocky and unafraid. “Oh, I’ll bet you a lost treasure that I can make you stop me from stopping.”

  A growl left Trystan’s throat at the sight of that wicked smile, imagining it wrapped around his throbbing shaft. He was harder than he’d ever been and Galahad hadn’t even touched his body, yet. The knight really was seducing him. Trystan knew it was happening, but he was powerless to resist. It was as if he was under a thrall. Hypnotized by the magic of the man.

  He was so lost, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to find his way back, again.

  Galahad seemed pleased with his spellbound reaction. “Seems like my seduction is working.” He said, as if reading Trystan’s mind. His attention drifted back down to Trystan’s erection. “…Or is adrenaline causing it again, you think?”

  If Trystan knew how to laugh, he would have laughed at that. “You have really never done this before?” He asked, even though he knew it was true. It just didn’t seem possible. “How the hell are you doing this to me, if you’ve never done this before?”

  “I’m usually good at everything I try.” His fingers danced along the edge of Trystan’s wings in a way that made Trystan believe in all the gods in the heavens. “Give me some time to practice and I’ll be the best.”

  Trystan caught Galahad’s chin in his hand, meeting his eyes. “You will practice with me and no one else. Yes?” It was a demand, not a question.

  “Just you. Just so it’s just me.”

  “Fine.” Trystan couldn’t focus on anything but him. “Yes. Just you. Continue practicing.”

  As a boy, Trystan had thought those gryphons in the stories were foolish for wasting their lives chasing figures made of moonbeams. Suddenly, he understood their hopeless quests, though. You could not unsee extraordinary things, even when they doomed you. Once you had gazed at those otherworldly creatures, nothing else would ever seem beautiful enough.

  Nothing else could ever shine with the same light.

  “Trys?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to practice something new.” Galahad’s hand shifted away from his wings and towards Trystan’s chest, edging under his shirt and trailing across his skin. Tracing the muscles of his abdomen. It was like being bathed in light. “Okay?”

  Trystan sighed in surrender, his forehead coming to rest in the knight’s shimmery hair. “Whatever you want.” He agreed without even a moment’s hesitation. Wherever Galahad wanted to touch him was fine, just so he kept touching him.

  All the reasons for denying himself the man had vanished from his mind like mist. Galahad was unclaimed. Why shouldn’t he take him? Shit, even if he had been claimed, Trystan would have taken him. He would fight whoever he needed to, in order to keep Galahad looking up at him like this. No one would stop him from…

  “I told you we’d catch up with you, knight.” A new voice declared smugly and a Crooked Man stepped into view. “I warned you this day would come.”

  Trystan’s head snapped around, breaking the spell that had fallen over him.

  The stranger’s body was all jagged angles, his features bent into sharp folds that didn’t quite line up correctly. He held a sword in his twisted hand, all his attention on Galahad. Two other crooked figures circled in the darkness, casting misshapen shadows in the firelight.

  “Oh thank Lyrssa…” Trystan had rarely been so pleased to be ambushed by cutthroats. The crooked strangers had shown up before he did something epically stupid. He still planned to kill them all, but their timing was impeccable.

  Galahad wasn’t nearly so relieved with the interruption. Frustration was etched all over his face as he stepped away from Trystan. “You fucking assholes.” He scraped a hand through his hair, pissed off and gorgeous. “Fuck!”

  Trystan’s body might never recover from its thwarted release, but at least he got to hear the sunny, cheerful knight’s florid cursing. For some reason, he enjoyed it when Galahad got angry enough to begin swearing. It felt like Trystan was seeing more of him. The knight should let his temper explode for real. Trystan saw now that course would be best. Not just because it would reassure him that he wouldn’t lose control and kill everyone, but because Trystan wanted to see all of him. Especially the parts Galahad had hidden away in his mysterious core.

  “You ruined our lives!” The Crooked Man shrieked dramatically. “Now it’s time for us to return the favor.”

  “You three followed me, all this way, because of that damn rug?” Galahad sounded incredulous. “Really?”

  “What did you think we’d do?” The Crooked Man shot back. “We have nothing left, since you wrecked our business, you bastard.”

  “You wrecked it yourself.” Galahad retorted, his stymied sexual energy making him sharper than usual. That bit of latent Badness truly was delightful. “You and the Cat and the Mouse have been screwing people over for years. Suddenly I’m a villain, because I didn’t fall for it?”

  None of the others agreed with that assessment. The Crooked Cat and Crooked Mouse stomped into view, both oddly formed and both of them screeching out their own versions of what happened at some village fair. The Crooked Man was listing all the reasons why Galahad was completely wrong about gods-only-knew-what. Galahad was shouting about the inferior quality of their wares.

  It was all extremely loud.

  Trystan sat down, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. “This is five times you’ve been attacked, since I found you, knight. You know this, yes?”

  “Five?” Galahad flashed him a frown. “How do you figure?”

  “Pigs, snake god, ogre girl, gryphons, these dickheads.” Trystan held up a finger for each one and ended up with an open palm, in case Galahad wanted to count for himself. “Five.”

  “No. No way. We’re not counting the ogre girl. She wasn’t an actual threat.”

  “You refuse to fight, so even she would have been able to defeat you, if she wished. The number is five.” Trystan wasn’t budging on that. His math was always sound. “It’s unbelievable. No one is attacked five times in such a short span. You are a magnet for lunacy.”

  Galahad shot him a put upon look. “Well, no matter how you add it up, it’s not my fault it’s happening this time.”

  “Who else’s fault could it possibly be?”

  “Their fault obviously. I don’t start this shit. I’m a normal, boringly beige person. Ask anyone.” He paused. “Except them,” he swung an arm at the newest group of morons plotting his death, “because they’re liars.”

  “You started this, not us!” The Crooked Man cried. “And now you’ll die for it!”

  Trystan ignored the jackass and shook his head at Galahad, somewhere between charmed and exasperated. “Are these the men who used to be under your command? The ones you were traveling with, until they tried to murder you?”

  Galahad pouted a bit. Under other circumstances, it would have been adorable. Actually, no. It was still adorable. “No, that’s a different group of guys.” He grumbled.

  “A different group? An entirely different group of villains wishes you dead, now? How do you even keep track?”

  “Well, I told you I was lousy at making friends. Did you think I was joking?”

  “No, people wanting to kill you is totally understandable. I was just not expecting their numbers to reach so massive a scale. If they ever join forces, your enemies will be able to surround Camelot.”

  “Most of the time it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”

  Trystan rolled his eyes. The knight was a walking disaster area. Trystan wan
ted to rip out his own hair, dealing with all the messes he caused. He also wanted to sink into his warm, welcoming body, murmuring soft promises of how he would fix all the man’s problems.

  Yes. This was definitely concerning.

  “We have no quarrel with you, gryphon.” The Crooked Cat told him. “If you flee now, we’ll spare your life and only kill the knight.”

  Trystan snorted. “Do not tempt me.”

  “Look, if anyone has a right to be angry it’s me.” Galahad went on passionately. “I don’t like to get angry, though, so I’m going to stay calm and positive.”

  “Yes, that worked so well in the Welkyn village.” Trystan deadpanned.

  “I know.” Galahad agreed, taking him seriously. “But, even through my calm positivity, it’s crystal clear that I’m the only one here who has a real grievance.”

  “You ruined our lives!” The Crooked Man objected, again. “How are you the victim?”

  “Because I was the one nearly swindled in Bisnagar and just now you morons interrupted a very nice moment I was having with him.” Galahad gestured to Trystan. “I think he was about to say ‘yes’ to sleeping with me and you screwed it all up.” He looked at Trystan. “Were you about to say ‘yes,’ Trys?”

  “I was considering it.” He’d been about thirty seconds away from having the man naked and spread out before him like a banquet. That counted as “considering” in their rather limited dialect.

  “See?” Galahad turned back to the Crooked Man. “Happy now?”

  “We weren’t swindling you, dumbass. The rug was real. All my rugs are real. It’s not my fault you were too dim to work it.”

  Trystan tilted his head. Clearly, he was going to have to save Galahad from dying horribly. (Again.) But he might as well know why he was about to kill the three crooked beings first. “This is about carpeting?”

  “Look, I was in Bisnagar, minding my own business.” Galahad explained, like he could somehow make this madness sensible. “And these three crooked crooks came up, trying to sell me a magical carpet. I asked them to prove it could fly, because otherwise it’s just a rug with an ugly pattern, right?”

  “It’s not ugly!” The Crooked Mouse hissed through its buck teeth. “It’s stripes. Stripes aren’t ugly.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion and yours is wrong.” Galahad retorted and then looked back at Trystan. “Anyway, they couldn’t show me the rug flying. They couldn’t show me anything but it lying on the ground being a rug with an ugly pattern. Obviously, I’m not going to pay for that.”

  “Obviously.” Trystan concurred. “Also, you have no money.”

  “You couldn’t even pay us?” The Crooked Cat cried, like that was somehow the final insult.

  “At the time, I had some money,” Galahad’s voice went mumble-y, like he was hoping no one would hear the next part, “but then I used it all to buy a unicorn.”

  “You bought a unicorn.” Trystan rubbed his temple, not even surprised. “Yes. That is exactly what I would’ve predicted you’d spend the last of your gold on.”

  “The unicorn was being abused.” Galahad assured him, eyes wide with Good intentions. “Trapped in a horrible sideshow and forced to do tricks that it hated. See, I was investigating my mission, looking for clues. And I was kind of working at the circus, temporarily…”

  “You were working at the circus?” Trystan interrupted incredulously.

  “It was a weekend job.” Galahad defended. “I had to eat while I was in exile, didn’t I? I know how to do some trapeze tricks, so it was an easy way to make a little money.”

  “Why the hell do you know trapeze tricks?”

  “Everyone knows trapeze tricks. It was getting shot out of the cannon with the grizzlies that took practice.” Galahad waved it all aside. “Anyway, I explained that the unicorn was unhappy, but the circus owner wouldn’t listen. So, I bought the poor thing and set it free. It was a good use of gold, Trys. Way better than giving it to jerkoffs who sell fake magic carpets.”

  Was this all an elaborate joke being played on him? Sometimes Trystan wasn’t sure.

  “Carpets don’t just fly on command!” The Crooked Man glowered over at Trystan like he was the judge of the matter. “Tell him! You need to focus your mind for them to levitate properly.”

  “That is true.” Trystan told Galahad, because it was true.

  Galahad didn’t look convinced. “The carpet was fake.” He insisted. “They run a crooked business. We argued about it. Pretty soon a crowd had gathered around, and then the authorities were there. Turns out these three were wanted for about a thousand crimes and so these crooked crooks got arrested.” He waved a hand at the jagged-y beings. “I’m not to blame.”

  “You are to blame!” The Crooked Man shouted. “Do you have any idea what bail cost us? When we skipped town, they took everything. We lost our little crooked house because of you.”

  “You were cheating people!” Galahad repeated like he was the last sane man in the world. “That’s why you lost your house.”

  “And that’s why we’re going to kill you!” The Crooked Cat bellowed, its crooked hair puffing up in all kinds of twisting directions. “We’re going to chop you into pieces, wrap you up in a magic carpet, and send you flying over the moon, knight.”

  “That threat might mean something if your rugs actually flew. But they don’t, so…” Galahad trailed off with a taunting shrug that was absolutely adorable. The knight might’ve been determined to stay “calm and positive,” but it was clearly a struggle for him.

  “Oh, it’ll fly, but you’ll be too dead to see it.” The Crooked Mouse unfurled a blue and yellow floral carpet, heading for Galahad. “You’ve lived your last day, dickhead.”

  “If you make me kill you, I’m going to be pissed.” Galahad warned. “I mean it. I don’t like to get pissed and I don’t like killing people, but you’re seriously pushing me.”

  The Crooked Man, the Crooked Cat, and the Crooked Mouse didn’t seem impressed with the threat. They advanced on him with weapons (and rug) drawn.

  Trystan really should let them slay Galahad and be done with it. It would save him no end of trouble. Unfortunately, only one path appealed to him and it was a complicated, beautiful, unicorn-saving mess.

  He sighed at his own stupidity. “I told you something like this would happen, knight.”

  “No, you didn’t. You always say ‘told you so’ even when you didn’t tell me anything.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” He flicked a hand at the crooked trio. “These beings look very serious about your murder.”

  Galahad made a face. “People look like that a lot around me.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Trystan’s future would be spent listening to rambling accounts of why random assholes were attacking and then digging graves for the random assholes. It was inevitable given Galahad’s popularity. “As you refuse to pick up a sword, like a normal person, would you like me to handle this for you?”

  Galahad frowned over at him. “I can deal with it myself.”

  Did knights have mottos? If so, that should be the one Galahad engraved on his new silver shield. “You are going to deal with it alone? How?”

  “I’m going to diffuse the situation with reason.”

  “Oh Lyrssa save us…”

  “Reason is going to work.” A pause. “One of these times.”

  Gryphons didn’t laugh, but Trystan came damn close. “Fine.” He leaned back, ready to watch the catastrophe unfold. At least he would be able to steal another hat for the knight off of the Crooked Man’s corpse. He really did lose them with ridiculous regularity. “We’ll hope for the law of averages to kick in, then. Always a sound strategy. I give it a minute, before you fail.”

  The knight cast another affronted scowl in his direction. “I told you, I don’t fail at things.”

  “Yes, I heard you make that claim. It was just before the swarm of killer snakes attacked you, wasn’t it?” Trystan crossed his arms over his
chest, enjoying the knight’s insanity despite himself.

  Those extraordinary eyes narrowed. “You really don’t think I can stop these guys without bloodshed?”

  “No.” Trystan fully anticipated stepping in to fix this mess in forty-five seconds or so. “I think I will have to kill them all.”

  Galahad’s jaw tightened at the challenge and Trystan felt his blood thickening in desire. Gods, the man was gorgeous when he got defiant. He wasn’t sure why that surprised him. Every crazy thing Galahad did increased Trystan’s desire. That shadow of fate flickered through his mind, again. The sensation that something had guided him to this one man above all others.

  The idea that the knight was the only one who could offer him… everything.

  The Crooked Cat stepped closer to Galahad, ready to stab him. The Crooked Mouse held up the rug, ready to wrap the knight’s bleeding carcass in it. Trystan’s muscles tightened, about to intercede.

  And that’s when Galahad pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and aimed it right at the Crooked Man’s head.

  Everyone froze. Even Trystan.

  What the hell…?

  It took him a second to realize it was the ancient firearm the ogre girl had used in her robbery. The one that Galahad was repairing. Trystan remained unconvinced that it would ever fire, again. And even more unconvinced that Galahad would be the one who fired it. The knight didn’t hold the same aversion to guns as he did to swords, but he was stubbornly set against killing anyone. Even the people who so clearly deserved it.

  The crooked beings didn’t know any of that, though. All of them seemed to believe that the knight was about to fire right into the Crooked Man’s skull.

  “How much do you want for that rug?” Galahad asked in the sudden silence that fell over the group. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

  “Oh for Lyrssa’s sake…” Trystan sat up straighter, unable to believe this new foolishness. “Are you out of your mind?”