Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (44 page)

He
stalked the injured male who lay at his feet and growled incessantly. He had
always proved useless against this long-time companion, or perhaps it was the
years they’d spent together which had made him soft and vulnerable. As they
faced one another the heated gaze in their eyes replayed the sorted history
they’d shared for half a century.

For
a second the King hesitated and felt he needed to retreat. The decision had
plagued him for months and he was never really sure he’d be able to deliver the
betrayer unto his death. But the rules of the land that were cemented in him
several decades ago, slammed against him with a mighty force and he went forth
executing his one-time lover brutally.

The
battle was over before it began, and in that instant, the death rattle carried
across the plains of Tracara for a second time.

In
the blink of an eye, his life had changed forever.

The
King marked his territory and roared out in victory. It wasn’t a celebration to
cheer. He did not delight in this victory, but he had a job to do and it was
done. And even so, he knew it would be short-lived. Everyone within the five
mile radius knew the sound of death, and tonight there would be many suitors to
come and attempt to take him down. But he had no intentions of leaving the
kingdom he’d built.

He
clamped his powerful jaws around the throat of Sage once more and stilled
himself long enough to relish in the death and reign supreme. Even in killing
one he valued deeply, he was a beast. He had permanently quieted the one he’d
loved so tenderly and bathed in the red, thick, blood covering the earth
beneath him.

It
would now be only a memory for him to revisit. Sweet memories only he would
possess.

The
moon disappeared and the night grew darker, and he was King. He remained with
the body, continuing to apply the death hold long after the kill. It wasn’t
until he felt warmth leave the body, did he leave it for the vulture to feed.

He
reflected on the pain as he walked back toward his kingdom. It was no time for
the weak or weary. In the hour of his grief, his heart was heavy, but the
warrior in him knew there was more to be done and he set out to rebuild his
empire. Yes, the excruciating memory would live within the walls of his soul
forever, but he knew never again to be so stupid and make the same mistake
twice.

His
kingdom — Tracara — would bleed tonight until he got what he
needed.

CHAPTER
TWO – THE MAIN COURSE

Tracara
was in turmoil. The news of Sage’s death had already swept through the plains
and everyone wanted out. Many remembered the brutality that immediately
followed once the King murdered his closest companion. No one slept, and no one
was safe. Not even the children.

And
tonight, Braden solemnly vowed no one would be safe from his wrath. Tonight he
would begin his new legacy. Tonight he would take the next step in
strengthening his kingdom. His drone had begged him not to go out, but he
needed to strike while chaos ruled. It would be the only way to pick the best
from the fleeing litter. He dressed in all black, concealed even in the darkened
shadows. The sky was filled with brilliant hues of orange and red, and the
mixture of thunder combined with the sounds of vultures dining in the distance
caused him to weep. Because of him the forest earth was painted crimson and the
scent of death permeated his skin. It was evident in his action that betrayal
would equal death and he had come full circle once again.

Going
about finding a new suitor would not be easy. The task had always proved to be
a difficult one. He remembered the first night he looked into the eyes of the
warrior that changed his life. In his life, Laz had been one of many delights.
He had been so young and inexperienced, but Laz had taken him under his wing
and taught him everything he needed to know. It wasn’t until that first night
he realized the true meaning of being accepted. He had fallen under Laz’s spell
and was drawn not only to the power, but to the animalistic beauty he
possessed. He was not the vicious animal everyone believed him to be. He was a
gentle warrior, and when they touched it was magical. He had never known
eroticism, but every encounter with the master had taught him how to be love.

It
had been devastating when Laz’s reign ended, but Braden had been prepared and
groomed for years to take the throne. He knew what needed to be done and had
the strength and forthright to do it. It was the first time his spirit had ever
been broken. Laz had discovered in him something special and satisfied the
burning need inside him. Each seductive nuzzle confirmed he’d made the right
decision abandoning his family. They no longer mattered to him. They had
abandoned him long before he’d left them. There had only been his grandfather.
He’d shown him the love and guidance he craved, and after his death, Laz became
his everything. Braden had fallen in love and he longed to taste the essence of
truth. Laz made love to him not only as a man, but as a warrior and each time
was like the first time. For hours they reveled in the scent of one another,
bathing in the afterglow of their triumph. He had given himself completely to
the father, and his lusts were rewarded with a kingdom.

Reaching
the city limits, the King watched with delight the displacement of citizens. It
was a welcomed sight. It would be easy to pick off an unsuspecting gentleman
and carry him to his private hideaway. There was only a hint of moonlight.
Thankfully it was enough to guide him through the narrow streets without
signaling his presence. His steps were methodical as he sought new blood.
Sage
,
he thought. The memory of the name caused him to heave with pain and growl
involuntary. It was surreal to think he was gone from him forever, but the
ultimate price for disloyalty was indeed death.

The
King was regal in that he was a brutal killer. His eyes were orange in color,
and his hair hung loose and down his back. The altercation he’d had left him
weak and vulnerable. He needed substance or the vultures would surely overtake
him and cast him out as a nomad. On a mission to find the perfect specimen to
tame, he examined every man within feet of him. He had believed no one could
ever replace Sage, but he was wrong and realized all good things come to an
end. He walked with purpose and confidence, silently and nearly invisible to
all those around him until he spotted the young man beneath the flickering
street light. With the cover of darkness and blistering wind to silence his
footsteps, he inched closer to his prey and examined him from head to toe.

“Yes,”
he whispered. “You’ll do nicely.”

Quietly
he watched and waited for the right moment to pounce. It had been many years
since his last conversion rendezvous and he was eager to partake in the ritual.
In the beginning they all fought him and vowed never to conform to his ways,
but he always managed to change their mind. He smiled at the young man, who was
busy caroling his family to safety in hopes of escaping the purgatory, but he
would not get away and neither would they. Macheté would be his for all
eternity, and his family, well they would be dinner for the scavengers.

Relentlessly,
he stalked in the shadows. He knew every nook and cranny of Tracara and knew
exactly where the young man would deposit his family. The winds were shifting
and he sniffed the air to inhale the scent of him. But before he could take a
step to claim his conquest, he paused. His moment of triumph had been
interrupted. Who would dare challenge him? It was the smell of a familiar foe
in the midst. It was a nomad. His head snapped around and he searched the
darkness behind him. He listened to the incessant growl and knew the enemy had
closed in on him.

The
hair on the back on his neck stood and he shifted his stance. He sensed the
presence of another and watched it move in the shadows, the deep throttled
growls reverberated through the night and slicing the darkness with ease. The
King readied himself for whatever revealed itself and the battle that would
surely follow.

“Did
you think I would leave?” the nomad hissed.

The
King readied himself for the challenge. “If you’d been smarter, you’d left when
you had the chance. Now, I’ll simply kill you and rid myself forever of your
pestering existence.”

The
nomad chided, “You’re weak, great King, and everyone knows it. You killed your
golden boy, your true strength and now I’ll take what’s rightfully mine.”

“I
would have thought you’d learned your lesson before,” the King said snidely.
“This is my territory, and no one takes anything from me.”

“Think
again,” the nomad spat and moved in eerie silence. He had known this day would
come. He had counted on it. Sage had so much told him of it, and all he had to
do was wait. “Your reign is done.”

“Not
yet, it’s not.”

“Sage
is dead. I’m sure everyone is surprised, but not me. I knew it would happen. I
knew you wouldn’t be able to control that temper of yours.”

The
King growled.

“Growl
all you like,” the nomad taunted. “Besides, the kingdom would be better
preserved by someone who isn’t as short-tempered as you.”

The
King expected enemies to challenge him in the wake of Sage’s death, but this
one acted as if he had inside knowledge.

“Challenge
me all you like, but you will not win.” He was weak, yes, but he knew now would
be the only opportunity his enemies had to vie for a throne he’d ruled for more
than a century. His tenure or so everyone thought should come to an end, but he
had other plans. Sage had stepped in and filled the absence once he’d dethroned
Laz, and together the two of them ruled like kings, until Sage danced with the
enemy. He had broken the only cardinal rule. Thou shall not get caught. The
king wanted to dismiss the challenge, but to do so would mean all he’d worked
for would be destroyed.

His
struggle for acceptance after Laz’s death had been rugged, but Sage helped ease
the transition for everyone. And now Sage’s betrayal would serve as a painful
reminder that he should never give his trust completely to anyone. He had
overcome so many obstacles. It was unconscionable to think he would now be
overthrown by the vultures that vehemently conspired to take his kingdom. His
claws appeared sharp and ready, and he was primed for battle.

“You
see old warrior, I intend to rule here.” The nomad spoke from the shadows.
“Your time is up.”

Without
words, the King lunged toward the nomad and the age long battle between them
ensued again. The king struck several damaging blows, and as they circled one
another, the nomad roared his displeasure.

“You
won’t win this time,” the nomad promised. He lunged forward and sank his teeth
and claws into the shoulder of the King. The sweet sound of the King’s
agonizing groan empowered him and he continued his onslaught.

Against
the wall, the King sucked in deep breaths. He’d been here before, and
determined he would not falter under any circumstances.

“If
you thought I would give in, you thought wrong.”

“If
only you had given into me that would have been better for the both of us,” the
nomad growled and circled the King as his prey. “I would have taken very good
care of you. Being my love slave instead of my footstool would have served a
great purpose, but you’ve proven to me that death is the sweetest pleasure for
you.

For
a moment, the King remembered Laz. It was a bittersweet memory. The bloodbath
lasted nearly three months until finally he wrestled away the land and all the
subjects who inhabited it. He imagined what life would be like if he made the
nomad his slave. No. He would only rise up against him.

The
chuffing and rasping carried through the darkness setting off the primal alarm
of the community. The battle between King and Nomad was ferocious, neither
giving an inch. Blood drained from their bodies and painted the streets red.

“Is
there anything you’d like me to tell your subjects before I kill them and send
them to hell to visit you?” The King asked and lunged with forced, his claws
slicing at the throat and neck of the nomad. As they twisted and turned against
the earth, the King gained the advantage and ended the fight with a swift bite
to the neck and promptly suffocated the nomadic challenger.

CHAPTER
THREE – DESSERT

Deep
in the heart of Tracara, the pride land faithful were awake and eager for the
transformation to take place. Braden, the King stalked the halls of his estate
like a wild man and waited rather impatiently for his drone to notify him. His
rule as king had hung in the balance tonight, but he out dueled them all.
Alone, he reflected on the night’s earlier events and felt somber in his final
actions. In a fit of rage, he’d killed both his enemy and his closest
companion. A companion who’d stood by his side for the nearly half a century. A
companion who had foolishly betrayed him and signed his own death warrant.
Sulking in the past would gain him nothing. Surprisingly, he’d already found
his new love slave to keep his legacy alive. The young man hadn’t seen it
coming, but he was absolutely perfect.

“Sire,
all is ready,” the drone announced.

Braden
nodded and made his way down into the soundproof cellar. Silently he moved into
the room and watched the young man. Strapped to the table with iron cuffs
around his wrists and ankles was his latest conquest, Macheté, the young
warrior. He inhaled from the shadows, his body tingling with anticipation. The
sight awakened his flesh and allowed his spirit to come to life.

“Who’s
there?” Macheté asked nervously, as whispers began to flood the room. His voice
trembled, his naked body chilled to the bone. It was cold and dark and constant
pain ravaged his body with every breath he inhaled. “I know someone is here. I
can hear you.”