PEACE BETRAYED--ANNIHILATION

          Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both his uncles begin to get to their feet as his temper flared.  Alexei, Sebastien, Severus and Aiden caught their arms, pulling them back into their chairs, shaking their heads, even though their eyes remained on Roark.

          Watching.

          Waiting.

          Harry himself settled back in his chair, arms coming up to cross over his chest, ready to watch the show.  : Teach him a lesson, brother, : came into his mind.  : This is not the first time he has attempted to push himself where he is not wanted.  This needs to stop. :

          "Oh, come now, surely you--"

          "NO, Flight Sergeant, I'm really NOT.  Now, if you don't release me and step back from me, you WILL regret it."

          Amusement.  "Will I now?  You're a feisty one, ain't you?  Well...I like it when my men are a little feist--"

          Roark moved before he could say anymore, and before the Flight Sergeant could even THINK to react, let alone do it, he had a very sharp, very cold steel blade at his throat.  Behind them the entirety of the Officer's Club went silent, turning in their seats to watch the show unfolding before them.

          "I SAID, Flight Sergeant," he hissed in a tone colder than ice despite the fire burning in his eyes, "that I was not interested.  Now, I strongly suggest you release me."  

          The arm fell away.

          "VERY good.  Now, listen well, Flight Sergeant DeAngelo, for I will not repeat myself.  Number one.  Not interested means I have no interest in you.  Zero.  Zilch.  None.  Nor," he raised his voice just slightly, "do I have any interest in anyone else.  No, Flight Sergeant, means no.  Full stop.

          "TWO.  See these," he held up his left hand, the lights of the Club making the stones in his rings sparkle.  "These are betrothal and marriage bonding bands.  Do you know what that means, Flight Sergeant?  If you do not, let me TELL you what it means.  I am sealed.  Soul bonded and life-mated to my husband.  THIRD.  I am a Counter-Intelligence Officer AND a Captain.  THAT means I outrank you on both counts."

          "Alright, Captain Roark, stand down if you please.  I think he's got the idea," came the deeply amused voice that also held authority.  "Let him go and sheath your blade."

          "Of course, Major Desmond," he stepped back, pulling the knife away from the frozen man's throat and sheathing it in one quick move.  "One last piece of information for you to think on while you are confined to your quarters.  My husband?" he looked up into those slightly scared eyes, his face now very pale.  "Is Rodolphus Lestrange," he gave a nearly feral grin, for everyone, it seemed, had heard of Lt. Colonel Rodolphus Lestrange, and exactly what he was capable of doing if you pissed him off.

          "So, you recognize the name, do you?  Good.  Remember it, because while I am well able to take care of myself, there are many others not in a position to do so, and Rodolphus is even less tolerant of others attempting to force themselves where they are not wanted than I am."

          "I think you have made your point, Roark."

          "No, Desmond, I haven't, and you will kindly let me finish making it," he looked back at his brother, saw him smirk as he lifted his hands in a placating manner and stepped back.  Roark returned his attention to the man before him.  "THIS, Flight Sergeant, will not happen again.  If it does, and I hear about it, I will see that you are arrested, your actions thoroughly investigated, and if proof is found, you will be stripped of your rank, and dishonorably discharged from the Colonial Armed Services.

          "We are before we are anything else, Colonial Warriors.  We took an oath when we graduated from the Academy and put on our uniforms to serve and protect.  We most certainly are not here to use our status as Warriors to attempt to coerce others into doing things they have no wish to do, sexually or otherwise.  If, once the Colonial Services are done with you, I ever hear of this happening again, I will not need to send Rodolphus to deal with you, I will damn well do it myself.  Have I made myself clear?"

          Flight Sergeant LeShawn DeAngelo nodded, his eyes very wide in his pale face.

          "I can't hear you, Flight Sergeant," came his harsh snap.

          "Yes, Sir, Captain Roark."

          "Good.  Now return to your quarters and sober up.  I will be speaking to your Squadron Leader about your behavior tomorrow," he reached past him for his wine glass.  "NOW, I have made my point, Desmond.  Shall we join the others, brother?"

          "Yes, little brother, I think we should," he said with a soft chuckle.  "Rhett, can we get another round at our table please?"

          "Right away, Desmond," his gaze swung to Roark.  "May I say ye handled that incident very well, Cap' Roark?"

          "He most certainly did."

          Roark gave them both a grin before turning and heading for the table.  "You ARE aware he will not listen?"

          Desmond nodded.  "Men like him very rarely listen, as once they've sobered up, they've either forgotten what was said to them, or they blow it off.  On his head be the consequences if he doesn't listen."