Tyrant

by Jagger Cole

  With each visit, I watch excitedly as Claire’s eyes open more and more. This is what I wanted to show her. I wanted to show her the Bullogia we fought for, and the one we’re still fighting to reclaim. I also show her the ugly side of things. I show her other prison facilities used by the former regime. These sure as fuck aren’t making in into the BBC “exposés” on my coup and new government. I show her the mass graves of unknown rebels who died fighting to take their kingdom back. And Claire takes it all in.

  Later, we stop in the little town of Pulgeto, which has a special place in my heart. This town harbored me and my entire high command for an entire fall and winter one year when the regime was scouring the country for us. They hid us in basements and underneath barrooms; in secret compartments behind kitchen walls and in caves dug under garages. When I arrive and I’m recognized, it seems as if half the town swarms the car instantly. Some of my guards in the SUVs behind us were here for that winter as well, and they come out to say hi to old friends, too. Claire watches in amazement as common people hug me or kiss my cheeks.

  When the excitement dies down, finally I can take her to a little cafe that’s been here since my rebel days for lunch.

  “So?”

  She laughs. “Is this scripted? Like did you plan this?”

  I grin. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t think there are enough great actors in Bullogia to pull something like that off. No offense.”

  I chuckle. “None taken, and there are not. These people hid me and my officers during an especially dark point in the rebellion. I lived in a beer cellar under this very cafe for six straight months.

  She shakes her head. “My God, Enzo.”

  “They’re still out there, trying to cripple Bullogia all over again. The former regime, I mean. Last night…” I scowl deeply. “Last night will never happen again, but it’s part of their continued aggression. That new bridge I showed you? They tried to bomb it a month ago. The army checkpoints you saw aren’t to harass my people, they’re to check for fucking explosives being brought into towns full of innocents. War is an ugly thing, especially a civil one. But we never, ever brought the fighting into towns, or involved innocents. The regime called us terrorists, but it’s they who are actually committing acts of terror.”

  She nods, and her hand slides across the table to squeeze mine. “Thank you,” she says gently.

  “For what?”

  “For showing me all of this today.”

  I nod solemnly. “The old regime lost the battle for Bullogia. But they’re wining the media and public opinions war.”

  “You could change that.”

  “I tried. The media failed me.”

  “Try harder.”

  I frown when I look back at her. “Excuse me?”

  She grins and shrugs casualty. “Try harder.” She’s being sassy, and I like it. “You’re a king but you’re coming off as more of a…”

  “A tyrant?”

  She blushes. “At little.”

  “I know what I want, and I know what needs doing,” I grunt. “And I expect it to happen.”

  “No, I get that, it’s just that you could use a…” she shrugs again. “I don’t know. A softer touch?”

  “A softer touch, hmm?”

  Her face reddens when I lean close to her. “You’re just… you’re a little intense sometimes.”

  “Am I…?”

  “Yes.” She nods, her voice barely a whisper.

  “How’s this for a softer touch.”

  I lean all the way into her, my hand cups her jaw, and I kiss her like I’m laying claim to her mouth. Her tongue seeks mine eagerly, and she moans as I hold her tight. I pull back, and my eyes hold hers.

  “Come with me. There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

  10

  Claire

  His fingers lace with mine, and we start to walk up the hill behind the cafe. I’m grinning. God, I can’t stop grinning, either.

  “This way,” Enzo says in that growly way that makes my heart skip.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  And yet he’s shown me so much today already. He’s shown me the parts of his country I never knew were there. Or things his government is doing that hasn’t been mentioned once in the news. And I realize now that Enzo might be hardened, and still fighting a war, but he’s right. The media has done a shameful job of covering Bullogia, and of his efforts here. Granted, it’s because the regime he overthrew fled the country and started feeding the media bullshit while they tried to blow up schools and bridges back here. And Enzo refusing entry to the media didn’t help. But this can be changed. I know the story that I’m going to write now can change a lot. Or at least it damn well better.

  I follow him up the hill, and through a grove of trees. Then suddenly I gasp. “Oh my God…”

  The view is simply stunning. From where we’re standing, we can see all of the Adriatic Sea, and even the capital Catone in the distance down the coast. And with the sun setting, it’s just gorgeous.

  “Here,” he whispers. He tugs, and I look up.

  “Wait, what? Is that a tree house?”

  Enzo grins. “It is.”

  We’re looking up at a small open cabin up in the large branches of a huge old tree. There’s a little balcony that juts out, and a small wooden staircase winds up the trunk of the tree to get in.

  “What is this?”

  “Giotto grew up in this town,” Enzo grins. “He built this as a kid with his father. When we were hiding here, we’d come up here when we needed to clear our heads. I’d sit up there for hours when I need clarity.”

  He takes my hand and leads me up into the small house. Out on the balcony, we lean over the railing, and I gasp. The view is even more stunning up here. Enzo comes up behind me, and I tremble when his hands slide to either side of mine, his body against mine. I turn, and my breath catches when those dark eyes burn into me hotly.

  “Enzo,” I whisper.

  “Claire.” He growls my name, and just the sound of it feels like a lover’s touch. Our lips come together, and I moan into his mouth. I open my lips to him willingly, seeking his tongue. His hands pin me to the railing, and I moan when I feel his hardness throbbing against me. He grinds against me, and I gasp. God, he feels huge. The feel of him so hard and big thrills me, and I moan eagerly. His hands shove my skirt up roughly, but I like it. I like that it feels as though he’s barely holding back from shredding my clothes off.

  “I can’t resist you,” he growls into my ear. “I can’t deny myself you.”

  “Don’t,” I whisper heatedly.

  “Do not tempt me, Claire,” he groans.

  “I’m not—”

  “Claire, I’m warning you,” Enzo hisses darkly. “I can’t control myself around you. I won’t control myself.”

  “Then don’t,” I urge again. I kiss him, and it feels like the floodgates giving way. He groans and kisses me harder before he drops down to his knees. His lips tease over my tits and then my stomach. He shoves my skirt up high, and I blush when his eyes slide over my panties. He can probably see how damn wet I am. He kisses my pussy through them, and I moan. His fingers tease over the edge of them between my legs, and he slips his fingers underneath. They brush over my wet pussy, and I moan eagerly

  “Enzo…” I murmur.

  He groans and yanks my panties down to my knees, and then he roughly pushes his head between my thighs. My eyes go wide, and my pleasure falls from my lips. His tongue—my God, his tongue. He licks me slowly, but possessively. He tastes me deeply, and I groan in pleasure. Desire sweeps through my core, and I gasp. My hands slide into his thick dark hair, and I moan in pleasure when he moves to my clit. He sucks it hard and rolls his tongue over it. My legs shake, and my muscles start to burn.

  “Enzo!” I gasp.

  He looks up at me and holds my gaze. He lets his tongue drag slowly over my pussy, and I moan. “You want to com
e for me, don’t you?”

  “Yes!” I gasp.

  “Then do it,” he commands. “Come for my tongue so I can drink every drop.” He growls into me, tonguing me harder and harder. I scream, and then I break. The orgasm washes over me, and I grip his hair tightly as I ride the wave. He pulls away and stands. He kisses me hard, and I moan when I taste myself on his lips.

  Enzo’s phone starts to ring while he’s kissing me, and he growls. “Fuck, sorry.” He pulls away to glare at it. “We’ve been missed,” he chuckles. “It’s my guards, telling me we need to go.”

  I giggle with a blush on my face. “Good thing they didn’t come looking!”

  He smiles. “Oh, they know precisely where we are. They’re just smart enough to not get close.” I blush, but he grins. “Come, we’re not done on our tour of Bullogia yet.”

  “No?”

  He grins. “No. First we’re going back to the palace to change, and then, we’re going out.’”

  “Out?”

  “Out.”

  “Like out on the town or something?”

  He smiles and slides a hand around to the small of my back. “Come,” he growls seductively into my ear. “I’ll show you.”

  11

  Enzo

  It’s an actual miracle that I let her out of the palace dressed like she is without claiming her against the fucking wall. Or in the car on the way here. As it is, I’ve barely kept my hands off of her, or my lips from hers. I haven’t had a drop to drink, but I’m drunk off of her kisses when we arrive at the nightclub in the party district of Catone.

  She almost couldn’t believe we were going to a place like this when I told her earlier, and it amused me. She thinks of Bullogia as this old place of Roman aqueducts and olive farmers. But in truth, Bullogia is young and vibrant. The vast majority of our population are young people who grew up under oppression and who fought for freedom. Now that they have it, they live it every day as much as they can.

  The music is pounding when we step out of the car in front of the club. Some of those in line spot me and applaud. Guys jump over the ropes to bear hug me. My security detail is having aneurisms, but I know it’s safe here. These are my people. I pose for some selfies with club goers before the bouncer, who I know from the rebellion, gives me a firm shake and waves us in. He smiles at Claire, but he averts his eyes quickly.

  Like I said, he knows me.

  She’s dressed to kill. Or break hearts. She’s in a shimmering silver club dress that fits her like a glove, with a plunging neckline and bare back. It’s short, too. Perhaps shorter than I want, but I’m trying out this “not being a tyrant” thing. I won’t be held responsible for breaking any hand that dares touch her, though. Or showing any wandering eyes where else to look. Hell, she looks like scandal and temptation in that dress, especially with the heels.

  But goddamn she gorgeous, and my cock has been hard ever since I laid eyes on her dressed like this. It’s especially bad since I’ve tasted her now. I’ve had a taste, and now, I want more.

  My entourage of guards and I set up shop in the VIP area. It’s not out of elitism. I understand I’m the king, but I’m also one of these people. However, my security detail finally puts their foot down and insists, for at least a little semblance of security. A bottle of champagne arrives, and I pour glasses for the two of us. I watch her hungrily as she sips the bubbles, and then I grab her hand.

  “Let’s dance,” I growl.

  “Oh, I’m not a great dancer,” she protests.

  “Let’s fix that.”

  Claire giggles when I pull her into the crowd with me anyways. I spin her, and my eyes slide over her body. Fuck, I hunger for her. But its more than that. She feels like a piece I’ve been missing. It feels as though she completes me. She feels like the eventuality of what I’ve been fighting for.

  I grab her hips, and I pull her close to my body. She sways with me, and we start to move to the music. I grind against her, and she grinds right back. We move like one body, swaying and thrusting to the music. Sweat drips down both of our bodies, and her dress sticks to her. My hands tighten on her hips, and my cock surges against her. God, I could fuck her right here.

  My lips slide over her neck, and her arms raise. Her hands push up my shoulders and neck into my hair. I nibble at her collarbone, and she presses against me tighter before she slips away. She grins seductively at me and starts to dance. I watch, utterly spellbound at the way her hands slip up and down her body, and the way her hips move. The crowd shifts, and then suddenly, she’s gone.

  I frown and instantly push through the dancers to the spot she was just in. But I don’t see her. I whirl, my eyes darting across every fucking face in the crowd. “Claire!” I yell it, but of course, no one can hear shit in this club over the music. I start to feel a panic rising, and I whirl again. I shove through the crowds, my pulse pounding. My fury rises, and it’s directed at myself. Why the fuck did I bring her out like this? My showing off my lack of fear to my enemies has crossed into hubris. And now, something is very wrong.

  I whirl and start to blunder through the crowd like a runaway bull. I’m snarling when I push through people, calling Claire’s name and looking for her in every face. Where the fuck is she? I blunder through another group of dancers near the bar, and then suddenly, I spot her. My fury almost explodes out of me.

  The man is leering over her, his hand gipping her wrist tight. Claire is slapping at him, but he’s laughing. He leans in to try and kiss her, and she spits at him, full in the face. The piece of shit snarls, but God save him, I snarl louder. I lunge at him like a beast defending his mate. I tear him away from her, and then, he’s a dead man. I slam him again the wall, over and over, roaring my rage He falls to the ground, and I’m on him like the devil himself.

  I pound my fists into him, intent on burying him right here on the dance floor. He recognizes who I am, and I can see the horror and regret in his eyes, knowing what he’s done.

  “Enzo! ENZO!!”

  Hands grab me, and I fight them. The fury has gripped me like a fever, and the only antidote is killing the man who’s laid hands on my Claire. But finally, I’m pulled away, and I realize it’s Giotto who’s slamming me against a wall.

  “It’s done!” he barks. “Enzo, it’s over!”

  I snarl in rage, and my friend slaps me. I grin and he frowns at me. “You back with us, my friend?”

  “Yes.” I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. “Yes.” I look over at Claire and push my friend away to get to her. I pull her into my embrace and look down into her eyes.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” the man on the ground blubbers. “I didn’t know!”

  It’s his “I didn’t know” that sends me into the fury again. I snarl and march over to grab him by the shirt. “She still said no, asshole,” I hiss. “It shouldn’t matter who the fuck I am.” He starts to cry, blubbering that he’s sorry. But the fight has left me, and I let him drop to the floor.

  “What should we do with him, sire?” My chief of security growls. I’m tempted to tell them to dump him into the sea two miles out. But I glance at Claire. She slides her hand into mine.

  “I’m not hurt,” she says softly.

  “Did he touch you?”

  “He tried to. I slapped him.”

  I smile grimly and turn back to my guards. “Leave him.”

  “Sire?”

  “Leave him, it’s done.” I glance at Giotto, who grins like he’s impressed with me.

  “I like her,” he mutters into my ear, nodding at Claire.

  “Fuck off,” I chuckle. I turn and pull her close again. “Shall we leave? I think I’m danced out.”

  “Me too,” she agrees.

  “Let’s go.”

  In the car, I can’t hold back. I kiss her hard, and my hands are all over her. She moans into the kiss, and I pull her willingly into my lap. I growl, and my hands roam her ass. Claire whimpers against my lips as we’re crossing over a small bridge that leads into a s
ide gate for the palace. When suddenly, the explosion booms through the night.

  The car swerves and screeches to a stop, and Claire screams. I snarl and wrap her in my arms, ready to defends what’s mine against anything that tries to hurt her. The other SUVs full of my guards skid to stops around us, and I can see them all pouring out, guns drawn to surround my car.

  “Stay here, beautiful.”

  “Enzo, no!”

  “Stay here,” I hiss. “Please, Claire.” I step out of the car, and motion for a gun from my driver. He knows me well enough to not suggest I go hide, and he tosses me the shotgun he’s holding. Giotto jogs over, holding an assault rifle.

  “What the fuck happened?” I growl.

  “Failed attempt,” he grunts. “An IUD set up on the far side of the bridge that was definitely meant to hit your car. It went off prematurely though.”

  “Casualties?” I brace myself.

  Giotto’s face darkens. “Two. A patrol stepped on it instead of your car.”

  I swear viciously.

  “Enzo,” Giotto growls. “We need to lock down the palace. The whole city, really.”

  “No,” I snarl. “They can’t see us live in fear.”

  “And your people can’t watch you die in an exploding car, either,” he barks. “Enzo…” my friend holds my gaze. “We have to.”

  I know he’s right, even if I hate the idea. “Fuck,” I swear. “Fine. Yes. Do it. Palace lockdown, and search anyone leaving the city. Have them take the bomb dogs through the whole damn city, too. And if you find the fuckers who did this…” I grit my teeth. “Do with them what you will to find out where their bosses are hiding.”

  Giotto smiles dangerously. “It would be my pleasure.”

  I go back to Claire and wrap my arms around her. The sirens and lights of the police and the firetrucks fill the night, and I hold her tightly. She’s all I need. But this entire situation is spiraling, just like me when it comes to her.