My Domestica | My Bodyguard Book 2

Chapter 33 | Pasta

Geralt POV

Geralt raised an eyebrow slightly, head turned to face towards Jaskier. He rested his forearms on the table as well, one crossed over the other. The one on top was resting on the opposite arm's bicep. Contrary to what Jaskier said, he did not get sassy when he got hungry. He just withdrew further. Closed himself off harder, got lost in thought more easily. And, alright, maybe his tongue got a bit sharper as well. But he wouldn't call it sassy.

He looked up as the man from behind the register came out again. He didn't look at Geralt. Geralt could practically smell the fear off the man, due to the close proximity and his heightened senses. His eyes flicked to Jaskier as the man got up, giving him a reassuring smile. Like Geralt wasn't tempted to say fuck it and follow. But he couldn't leave Ciri, and he had more faith in Jaskier's people skills than his own. The man was a natural. Geralt had learned.

When the two were gone, Ciri looked anxiously at her dad. "He'll be fine, right? Why did they want him? This has to do with Bla- with your reputation, doesn't it?" Her heart sunk with each sentence. Geralt gave a quiet grunt, which was answer enough.

They should have just pressed on, shouldn't they. She slumped over the table, resting her head on her arms. Roach nosed her foot as it swung too close. Ciri stopped swinging her feet. She could partially see as the dog nudged her dad again, and he leaned down to pet her.

"Don't get too attached to this place," Geralt muttered after a few minutes. Ciri looked up in surprise, though honestly, she should have expected his answer to come late, and be ominous and vague. For all he talked about speaking plainly, sometimes he absolutely did not do it himself. She nodded, though, heeding his advice.

Julian POV

"You the fucking fool who was following after the Butcher?" he asked with a smooth but certainly rough voice which although it was not deep, the roughness of his voice made him sound tougher than he actually was. The man had a beard and was in the head chief's clothing which made Jaskier wince internally.

"Yes I am the one who is traveling with Geralt," He said moodily, placing a hand on his hip and making it look like it didn't even hurt which a complete and utter fucking lie but there was more than one tough dude here. "And he would be preferred to be called Geralt. Now is there a problem?" he said cocking an eyebrow. Dammit, Jaskier, you were supposed to be smooth no sassy, he mentally scolded himself.

"That animal is not worthy of a name, anyways we won't-" He started through gritted teeth but Jaskier cut him off with a dangerously low voice. "He is no animal, he protects people. The least you could do is give him a decent damn lunch." He hissed towards the man before realizing what he had just done. How did he realize might you ask? Well, Jaskier could now feel himself being held up by the throat and unable to take proper breaths as his back was against the wall.

"Are you threatening me, boy? I could snap you in half faster than you could blink." The man growled at him. Jaskier just swallowed uncomfortably underneath his hand. He knew Geralt was out there, he knew he could be watching but he made so signal for him. If things got too out of hand he would yell for him. He did not want to do anything in self-defense, it might only worsen Geralt's reputation which by the Gods, he was going to fix. He was halfway through composing it, meaning he had the words. He only had done the chorus. He thought about making it 'Toss a fuck to your witcher' but that, he just found it funny. So he stuck with coin instead. The dollar sounded too long and the euro was the wrong country.