Wild King (Alien Beast Kings 2)

“Easy,” he says, scowling. “I am reminding you of your place, so you might appreciate mercy when you receive it.”

“Oh yeah? And what mercy is that?”

“There is more to show you than just the city. My world is full of wonders. You may enjoy some of them if you can keep the poison from your tongue long enough to see them.”

“My tongue isn’t poisoned. Yours is all overbearing and domineering.”

“I am a king,” he says, his tone dipping into gruff confusion.

* * *

Equs

I wonder why she seems unable to understand the concept of being owned by a king. She keeps dictating to me, even after I have shown her very clearly that she is mine. I suspect it is a natural arrogance, perhaps even dominance. This girl has had to make her own way on her world for a long time, and it is obvious she is used to taking control of the creatures in her life. She is a capable and good leader for her mounts. One day I would like to gift her one of my finest horses. For now, she would only attempt to use it to escape.

“You’ll do as I say,” I tell her, taking hold of the back of her head firmly. I need to control her. I need to make her feel that control to her very core so she submits the way I know she can. She twists and wriggles, even though it has to cause her discomfort.

“Lemme go,” she whines.

She really was so much easier when she was only half-conscious. I was able to come to understand her then, her fevered ramblings giving me something other than pure disobedience and rebellion.

“Stop,” I growl. “Your resistance is pointless and only hurts you.”

“My resistance is all I’ve got,” she shoots back with sudden honesty.

I loathe this bickering and this fighting which does nothing. I want the real conversations, the ones which reveal the tender, softer parts of her.

“THE KING APPROACHES!”

* * *

Blaire

They’re a bit late to the party, but the inhabitants of the city seem to have suddenly realized that their monarch is nearby, and are mounting an aggressive welcoming party.

I can hear strains of music, and crowds are massing. I expect Equs to puff up and get excited about the prospect of generally being worshipped, but he doesn’t.

“We need to get out of here,” he rumbles. “Come, furious little human. Let me show you my greatest pride.”

This isn’t his greatest pride? I would have thought a massive underground city would be the sort of thing a king would have been very proud of, but Equs doesn’t seem nearly as keen as I would have thought to drag me inside it.

“Come,” he says, mounting his horse and offering me his hand. “It is time you were back in the saddle.”

It has been a small eternity since I rode with Equs, and felt his massive body keeping me pinned in the saddle. It feels good, though I wouldn’t admit it. It feels safe. Something has changed during my illness. I feel closer to him, though I have little to no memory of what changed.

“What happened while I was out to it?”

“Well,” he says as he encourages his mount to turn around. “You were sick a lot. And you told me about your life.”

“Oh god, I fucking didn’t, did I?”

“You did,” he says, sounding amused at my horror. I do not tell people about my life. The brief outline of my whole family basically killing each other for no reason is all I give, max. But the way he’s speaking, and worse, the way he’s holding me, I’m getting the notion that I might have mentioned my… ugh... feelings about the whole thing.

“What happened to your father? When you were in a fever state, you called out for him. It sounded as though he was lost.”

I guess I might as well tell him the specifics. I’ve apparently already blabbed my feelings all over the place.

“He rode off a cliff while being chased by a herd of wildebeest in the middle of a meteor storm. At least, that's what we were told. I ain’t seen or heard no meteor storm down on Earth.”

“Brutal.”

“Yes. And then my uncle took over the family farm and he moved his wife and children in and my mother and I were forced to live in the barn.”

“But you intimated that you owned the farm.”

“I do.”

“How did that happen?”

“Fate? I don’t know. My uncle was shot one night when I was still a teenager. Just outside the barn. Some said it was my mama who did it. She disappeared at the same time. And my aunt, and hers, they left for one of the big cities. They were going to sell the farm there. But all three of them perished on the way.”

“Sounds like your family has experienced several strokes of very bad luck.”