<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/d7/fa/4d/d7fa4db7d7ea74deb4ef3b410de57d0a.jpg)<br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Conri</strong><br/><strong><em>The Forgotten One</em></strong></span></div></div>“Gregor Donovan,” Conri repeated curiously, rolling the name on his tongue as if tasting a treat for the first time.  There was enough power in there to be compelling should he wish to sway the man for his own pleasure, and knowing that, Conri tucked that bit of morsel inside should he need to use it later.  The priests had named him, as he’d said, and there was truth in that statement.  While he could use it against Gregor if he wanted, he wouldn’t have absolute dominion over him.  That was something found in a true name, the one that a mother gifts to her child upon his birth.  That one was the name he wanted, perhaps just enough to go in search of it at a later time.  For now,<em>Gregor Donovan</em>would serve a purpose.<br/><br/>Conri continued to eye him with a mild air of amusement as the question was turned on him.  Liadian was the first to speak, and looking back to see the anger on her face brought a rumble of laughter to spill from his lips.  “Oh, my dearest Asthore, how sharp you are.  Do not let his ignorance spoil the mood, hmm?”  He reached to her, glad for the close proximity, and stroked the side of his nail along her cheek.  Never did he apply enough pressure to break the skin; it was just enough for her to feel a slight scrape against her softness.  A juxtaposition that Conri adored pointing out time and again.  A tease, perhaps, of the senses.  He also loved seeing the reaction his fangs could produce as well, when he was feeling particularly playful with her.<br/><br/>“She is very protective of me, you see,” he said to Gregor as he took a piece of beef from his own plate and bit into it, “so I would be careful, if I were you, lest you wish a little witch to bring a storm upon your head.”  He finished chewing and reached for Liadian’s hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles with a slow, loving affection that had taken years to build between them.  “Or, should I say<em>my</em>little witch?”  Smirking, he ran his thumb against the back of her fingers before letting her hand go.<br/><br/>For now, Conri would enjoy the thought of Gregor calling him<em>my lord</em>, interested as he was to see if he actually would.  Whether he did or didn’t wouldn’t change the truth that Conri was, indeed, lord of them both.  The man would benefit from accepting that fact and moving on, though the fae was not opposed to teaching him otherwise.  No, he had stayed his desires for ages, not wanting to soil Liadian’s body with his greed.  A man, however… a priest… would put out those fires just fine.  He wondered if Gregor was just as inexperienced as his Liadian when it came to the pleasures of the flesh as he finished his bit of beef.