Bloodlust

by Jodie Becker

  "Gods take it!” he swore, slamming his fist upon the metal plane of a nearby house.

  The cat woman drew up beside him, her eyes asking a silent question. Stalking off, he continued his search, desperate to find something. After five more vacant vehicle holds, he found a hover bike. The panels that stretched across the vehicle carried a green tinge to them and characteristic dings along its body.

  "Gods, please let this work.” He stepped forward and ran a hand along the smooth handle to find the throttle.

  The bike turned over, but sputtered out. But on the second time, it flared to life with a whir. Lukiamo let out a jubilant cry and mounted the leather bound seat.

  The feline slid on behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist as he pushed his foot on the accelerator and headed toward the city.

  Forty minutes later, Luke sped into the capital; the lines of domed buildings passed in a blur as he made his way toward the one pyramid that stood central to everything and rose above the buildings surrounding it. Dodging hover vehicles, Luke veered onto the sandstone sidewalk, causing Corthian citizens to jump from his path.

  He rode the vehicle up the steps of the central pyramid and drew to a halt at the large iron double doors. Dismounting, he stalked toward the gold inlay patterned entrance and shoved it open.

  The heated argument within the great hall was the first to catch his attention. Twenty of the head council members, dressed in ceremonial garb of red sarongs and domed hats, stood behind the marble pedestal. Their hands animated the fury that lined their features.

  At the center of the cream marble floor stood Fiakali, with Kira kneeling beside him, hands tied behind her back and a chain collar around her neck. Rage burned in his gut at the sight of the obedience collar on her. Even from where he stood, he could see the blood trails from the inner spikes of the choker.

  "I demand you anoint me. I am the last of the line."

  Bitab, the vice-counselor, motioned everyone for silence. “You are not worthy,” his voice quivered with indignation.

  "I am. Without the blood that runs in my veins, the jewel of Ina will fail."

  Bitab pointed an accusing finger at him. “You killed many of your line to ensure your possible induction. But you don't have the ability to maintain the jewel of Ina. It will fail with you, and our city will fall."

  "If not me, then who do you think will take the Grand Chief position?” Fiakali demanded.

  "I will,” Lukiamo answered, stepping forward and letting everyone know of his presence.

  Fiakali jerked around, his eyes wide with surprise. “You!"

  Striding forward, Lukiamo glared at his uncle. “You think if you kill everyone of my line, you will control all of Corthus? You murdered my mother. My brother, my father ... and my sister."

  Fiakali grinned, a secret smile. “Come now, I'm not so coldhearted. I gave everyone a chance to redeem themselves.” As though to prove his point, he jerked on the chain lead, forcing Kira to cry in pain and anger as she submitted to his will, dipping her head forward.

  Fury rode along his skin, and he stepped further into the room. “I'll give you a chance to gain the throne, Fiakali. Fight me in combat of old ... if you have the courage."

  With a hateful scowl, Fiakali threw aside the lead and stepped forward. “I'll take your challenge."

  The council broke out in rumbles of apprehension, but Lukiamo held out a hand for silence. “No one can deny a man his right to the Enulagi."

  Bitab nodded and removed the ceremonial daggers mounted behind the podium. The gold of the knives glinted in the light, reflecting the symbols of old. The Damascene blade curved out in three points along the top, producing a weapon that was meant to cause the most damage with one strike.

  Accepting his dagger, he stepped into the central light, his focus sharpening on his opponent. Mirn hurried to Kira's side, but Lukiamo kept his attention on Fiakali.

  Circling each other, he held his blade at the ready. Pushing one hand out, he spread his fingers, waiting for his uncle to make the first move.

  A glint of intent sparked in Fiakali's eyes. Lukiamo pushed onto the balls of his feet as his uncle surged forward. Sidestepping a stab, he ducked a swipe at his chest and came in with a strike of his own.

  Fiakali jumped back, proving agile for his age as the blade only skimmed the surface. Lukiamo's lip curled back in distaste, and he lurched forward, spearing for the heart. Upon missing, he whirled in full circle to come out with a heavy strike for the neck. His uncle ducked, then kicked out, slamming his foot into Lukiamo's abdomen.

  Grunting against the pain, he stumbled back. Gasping for breath, Lukiamo glared at his enemy. With lack of food and the beatings he'd received, Lukiamo knew his only option was to end the fight post haste, for he didn't think he had the endurance to last against Fiakali.

  "Pathetic,” his uncle exclaimed. “You should've stayed on Qantic. It might've taught you something."

  Without a word, Lukiamo pushed off his back foot and struck out with a flying roundhouse kick. Fiakali blocked it with crossed arms, but stumbled back from the force. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse, Lukiamo struck out with his blade. With deadly ferocity, he swung the dagger in a criss-crossing fashion as Fiakali scurried back.

  Yet to make real contact, Lukiamo changing momentum. Coming up with the blade, the knife cut into Fiakali's stomach.

  Fiakali cried out and leapt back, his hand going to the diagonal slice that spanned from his waist to the nipple. Lukiamo stood back. Although first blood had been drawn, the fight was not over. He intended to kill him, and judging by the hateful glare in his uncle's eyes, he knew only one of them would leave this hall alive.

  "Why are you fighting, Lukiamo?” Fiakali asked. “You've already lost."

  Lukiamo grinned, recognizing the sound of desperation. “No, you have."

  Fiakali's smile was thin and filled with malice. “Ask your bitch how many times I took her."

  His heart lurched at the gravity of what was revealed. The bond had broken. He'd failed Corthus. “You're lying."

  "Am I? Do you know she begged me to take her? She likes it rough, you know."

  Hollowness filled his chest and churned his stomach, but the fury of betrayal burned through him. “You're lying!"

  Rage almost blinded him as he charged forward. Coming in for a downward strike, he gagged at the sudden agony that stabbed through his abdomen and into his chest. Dazed, Lukiamo stared down at the dagger embedded just below his ribcage. The ivory hilt was stained red with his blood. His dagger fell from lifeless fingers, and he stumbled back.

  Every breath he took sent agony spearing through him. Coughing against the feeling of drowning in his own blood, his eyes widened at the prospect that death was near. The metallic tinge flooded his mouth, and he cast a despairing glance over his shoulder at Kira.

  Her green eyes sparkled with tears, the misery, horror and love upon her face stabbing into him. It couldn't be true. The bond was still strong. There was hope yet.

  Glancing at the knife embedded in him, he grasped the slick handle, and with a scream, he wrenched it from his body. Gripping the dagger, he glared at his uncle who stood before him weaponless.

  Striking out with a war cry, he stabbed and sliced in quick succession, surprising his uncle in his ferocity. The dagger sliced open the skin of Fiakali's arms that were thrust out before him in a vain attempt for protection. Finding an opening, Lukiamo swung downward with the blade, stabbing it in between Fiakali's collarbone and neck.

  Choking, Fiakali stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he hit the ground. Approaching his fallen enemy, Lukiamo knelt to deal the final blow, the knife rose high.

  "You think you've won. But you haven't.” Fiakali rasped.

  "You are dead, old man."

  "I will have the final laugh. Your sister, Seren ... is alive."

  Joy overshadowed by fury surged through him. “Where is she?"

  Fiakali grinned, revealing bloody teeth. “I
will ... take that to my grave,” he said as the last breath left him.

  Standing, Lukiamo stared dazedly at the council, then turned toward his beloved. He swayed on his feet and got no more than several steps before his legs gave out and he hit the ground. Lacking even the strength to roll over, he bit back the sob of hopelessness that tightened his throat.

  Gentle hands rolled him over, and he peered at the face of his love. His heart. With a trembling hand, he touched her cheek, crimson staining her cheek. “I'm ... dying."

  Emerald eyes widened in disbelief. “No! You told me you couldn't die if I lived."

  A tender smile pulled at his lips as a strange sense of acceptance overcame him. “If the bonding had been completed ... but it has not been."

  Kira sobbed, her hands rising to cover her mouth. “Then tell me. Tell me how to finish it."

  Lukiamo felt the tug toward death and closed his eyes, falling into it.

  "Luke! Open your eyes."

  Pain seared along his cheek. With great effort, he forced his eyes open and drank in her image one final time.

  "Tell me, goddamn you!"

  "Your blood."

  "What?"

  Lukiamo struggled to explain more, but he lacked the ability and could only stare at her. Slowly, comprehension lit her features. She searched around him and finally came up with the dagger. Biting her lip, she sliced into her forearm, and then held it over his mouth.

  Drops slid into his mouth and he swallowed, his eyes sliding shut once more. The warm embrace of death drifted toward him and Lukiamo smiled, letting go of all his woes as oblivion took him.

  "Luke! Luke! Oh, God, don't leave me!"

  Chapter 11

  Kira sat in an opulent chamber of marble and gold, but it made little impact on her. Luke had died in her arms three days ago, and with it, brought stark clarity to her life. She had wasted the time of knowing him on foolish pride and hadn't even told him what a gift his love had been to her.

  The door to her room slid open with a hiss, and she glanced over her shoulder at Mirn. She had cleaned since her arrival, and her fur gleamed against the warm ceiling lights.

  Mirn slid onto the lounge and drew an arm around her, the pads of her paws chafing against Kira's skin. “Are you going to be all right?"

  Kira stared at the inlaid walls of flowers reaching for the sun. “No. He's dead. I have this sick feeling in my chest. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I feel like I'm half a person now."

  "You know, love has strange ways of showing itself. Sometimes it can be bliss, and other times, hell."

  Kira chuckled, a cold, grating sound. “Tell me about it."

  "So what are we going to do now? We're free."

  Freedom. What a concept. She could go anywhere she wanted now, even back to New Earth. But she doubted she would want to leave Corthus. “I think I'm going to stay here."

  Mirn nodded. “Sounds like a plan."

  Kira stared at the feline. “What?"

  "You're my friend, and I want to be here for you. Nothing will make me abandon you."

  The words, so familiar, slammed into her and released a dam of emotions that she'd kept at bay. Her chest throbbed, and with a wrenching cry, tears fell. Misery raked through her body and gutted her as she sobbed uncontrollably. He was gone, and it was all her fault. If only she hadn't fought him that day. If only she hadn't held him at a distance. Past regrets washed through her and tore into her soul.

  After what seemed an eternity, Kira drew in a slow breath and hiccupped. God, it had been so long since she'd cried like that. “I'm sorry,” she said, bashfully peering up at Mirn.

  Mirn grinned. “Not at all. Shall I get you some tea? It always helps a wounded soul."

  Kira smiled. “I would like that."

  "Okay. I'll be right back."

  As Mirn exited the room, Kira closed her eyes and envisioned his face. She longed to run her fingers along the smooth line of his jaw and see him smile. She had never heard him laugh, and all those little things sent an ache in her heart. They met under circumstances that would poison any love that might bloom, but theirs had survived. If just for a week.

  She breathed in and smelled the unique, woodsy scent of him. Opening her eyes, she gasped at the image of Luke kneeling before her. He smiled, and Kira released a sob. With trembling fingers, she ran her fingers along his cheek. His eyes slid shut, almost in reverence, as he turned his head and kissed her palm. The hot breath and moist touch of his tongue registered, and Kira's heart heaved a double beat.

  "You're real!"

  Golden eyes lovingly gazed at her. “I am. We are bound, my love."

  Falling to her knees, she embraced him and rained kisses upon his face. Finally her lips found his and kissed him with fervor, her tongue sweeping in and tasting the essence of him. His hands skimmed down the course of her back and cupped her ass, bringing her onto his lap and against his erection that tented his sarong.

  "God, I've never been so glad about a guy wearing a skirt,” she mumbled.

  Lukiamo chuckled and drew her closer. “Thank you, I think. And you look beautiful in a Corthus dress. Green suits you."

  Kira glanced down at the halter-top dress that flared out in a light layered skirt around their legs. “Thank you. Hang on. How come you didn't tell me you were royalty?"

  He grinned. “I think I was busy fending off your attacks."

  Kira scowled and swatted his shoulder. “Well ... okay. But you still should've mentioned it."

  He ignored her, kissed her collarbone, and licked a trail up her neck to suckle on her ear. Hot desire flowed through her, and she tipped her head back as he released the knot holding her dress up and eased the folds down to expose her breasts to him. Warm fingers cupped her breast and gently pinched her nipples, sending a spark of ecstasy toward her nether region.

  His hot breath touched her shoulder and along the swell of her breast before he took a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tipped peak while his hand rubbed her other breast.

  Desire stormed her senses, and Kira rotated her hips against his dick, groaning at the sensual bliss that burgeoned there. Digging her nails into his shoulder, she arched her back and sighed as he rocked with her. In unison, they found a rhythm that started slow, but began to pick up in pace.

  Gasping, Kira eased off his cock, and he pulled back, a question in his eyes. With a mischievous smile, she untied the sarong and eased it from him slowly. He shivered, and a breath sighed from him. His penis curved perfectly, and she ran a finger along the underside of it, making the head bob slightly. Gripping the phallus, she pumped it a few times, feeling the soft ridges ride along her palm.

  He dipped his head into her shoulder, his hands squeezing her waist. “Please,” he begged.

  Positioning herself, Kira led him to her entrance and pushed down, moaning at the sweet friction. Fully seated, she sighed, her muscles clenching against his shaft, inciting another delicious tickle. Luke lifted his head and cupped her cheeks; his eyes glimmered with all the love he felt for her, bringing tears to the surface. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He drew her into an embrace that was heartfelt and tender, his head pillowed between her breasts. “My jewel. Ina, Ina."

  He tilted his hips, and she gasped at the spiral of pleasure that flared there. Hooking her feet behind his back, she followed suit and rocked into him, finding a delicious rhythm. Ecstasy rolled through her body, and she moaned as he thrust into her, his hands on her hips forcing her to take more of him.

  The first tremors of an orgasm glided along her skin, and she panted. A magnificent climax pushed her over the edge into explosive release. “Luke!"

  Beneath her, Luke shuddered, thrust once, twice and fell still. They remained in each other's arms for a while. Kira frowned as the fuzziness of desire left her. “Who is Ina?"

  He tilted his head and eased the hair from his eyes. “Ina is you. Prophecy foretold that, in order for Corthus to live and prosper, the Royal family mu
st find and protect the Jewel of Ina. The jewel to our heart."

  Kira blinked. “So there is no jewel?"

  He smiled. “No. The jewel is the love of one so unique that will ensure the continuing line and prosperity of those under it. You will become my jewel upon my coronation and rule as my queen."

  Kira dropped her hands on her hips with an impish scowl and said, “You didn't ask me to marry you."

  He paused, his golden eyes filling with uncertainty. “Would you wish that?"

  Kira placed a tender kiss on his lips. “That and more, my love."

  The End

  Author's Bio

  I grew up with a love for books. My passion for the written word morphed into creating stories of my own early on. I soon found myself embroiled in romantic plots with action elements and loved it.

  Now I spend my days writing while looking after my family and two very spoilt dogs in Sunny Queensland Australia.

  You can know more about me by visiting my website: www.jodiebecker.com.

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