Know Thy Enemy

C H A P T E R 1 : the beginning

A particularly unlucky member of the Tanagura guard screamed in agony as Kyle effortlessly dislocated his shoulder.

The expert tormentor leaned forward and breathed into the guard’s ear. “Now, tell me who betrayed the access codes, you bastard, or so help me, I’ll dislocate the other one and your legs . . . will follow.” This was further demonstrated with firm pressure as Kyle rearranged the tendons in his captive's arm.

“There.....there....was no traitor.”

“Am I not making myself clear?” Kyle kicked the back of his knees sending the guard sprawling and his shins slamming into the pavement.

“I tell the truth. The codes were obtained by Jupiter when the main line was patched three years ago. I know nothing more.” The mangled guard groaned as he felt his own set of restraints click into place.

“We did nothing to your Tanagura. Praise who you will that I have spared your life.” Kyle let the rest of the guard drop to the ground like a rag-doll. The sky was plumed with purple smoke and flying embers. They would lose. Surrender was unavoidable to a behemoth like Jupiter. A swarm of guards flowed over the barracks.

Kyle felt the icy crack of his own skull slamming into the pavement. The wet sound of his own heartbeat was all he could hear as the darkness drenched his sight. “Roshtersen has fallen, oh God, my poor people” escaped his lips.

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Alban Marte inhaled the sweet metallic air of Tanagura. He had been abroad for over five years settling a conflict in the Ganymede quadrant and peace was a welcome respite. Iason had seen in him a cold and collected young man capable of directing the fleet to an assured victory. Now he stood, an alabaster statue of perfect muscle. He was victorious god, worn by death and hermitage. His hair had been necessarily cropped short out of ease, but it shimmered unmistakably in blonde tresses. They bled over his chiseled brow and into two grey eyes that burned with icy ferocity.

He would be joining several other blondies for dinner, drink and a night at the auction house. Alban had been without a pet for nearly a decade because of his work and travels. There had been several wanton beauties but now that he was back in Tanagura the prospect of a well-bred creature from the academy did have merit. But like all of Tanagura’s pretentious shell, it was merely a passing whim.

Unfortunately, the night spawned many enchantments. Alban and his colleagues spotted several contenders and made fragile bids but after a while the seductive eyes, the polite bows and endless perfumes began to run together. Alban found himself changed from the last time he was in Tanagura. The others joked about how cold his bed must be and how female pets may be more to his taste. Their party left the main auction hall sated by the newest purchases. It was by chance that Alban turned to one of the smaller circles of non pedigree pets. These investments were without formal training from the academy and suited more for export or lower classes.

“Here, we have a male from the Clemont’ highlands in Roshtersen. Unfortunately, due to certain infractions we’ve had to sedate this one and equip a temporary silencer. Do not be fooled by his physical demeanor. This pet is only to be sold out to those with adequate taming ability. We will start the bidding then.” Two furniture brought out the boy shackled to a red velvet chair.

Alban could not help but hold tight to the railing in front of him. The boy was lithe and expertly toned. His skin lustered a few shades darker than a blonde. It was pale and reflective against the sheer black robe that hardly covered any modesty. Beneath the soft blue tresses the young man’s forehead was dappled with abrasion and adequately purpled. He was clearly unconscious. The boy’s head rested lifelessly on one shoulder and pleasantly exposed his delicate neck and an ever growing expanse of glowing torso. Alban found himself waiting for the boy’s head to drift farther. An audible gulp rose from his throat as a shadow of defined abdominal shone through the robe - a sensual ripple of light on the cavern wall.

“Wren?” Alban motioned to his furniture. “I fancy that one, do what you must.”

“Yes master.”

The others all patted him on the back laughing.

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A day and a half later Alban returned home from the towers to find his impulsive purchase waiting in the red room.

He looked down into half lidded eyes. The boy was still heavily drugged. The mark on his brow had deepened in color. A sleepy haze darkened his liquid pupils. He was delicately lying over the dark red coverlet. His skin glowed off-white beneath one of Wren’s oversized black shirts. Up close he could not help but admire the handsomeness in his features. They were beautiful, but completely male in their excellence. His hair was a rich navy blue that the lights illuminated like a jewel, the strands falling into his eyes dramatically. Alban had not noticed before, but it also hung in an arm’s length pony tail down the boy’s shoulder. The boy was perhaps a foot and a half smaller but far from delicate. His muscles stretched taught from some distant nightmare.

Alban was taken by a dark fever as the boys struggling awareness drew him over to the bed. “Are you thirsty?” Alban barely whispered in his rich baritone. The boy parted his lips almost unnoticeably to say something, but the invitation had already been sent. Alban found himself a centimeter away from the boy’s face. Heat between the two intermingled and radiated of its own. The boy’s limbs shuddered at the new intruder but reality was still merely a frail tingle. Alban followed the stream of heat lower and traced the boy’s neckline with whispered kisses. His hands moved without thought or care to undo the first few buttons of his purchase’s shirt. Pleasantly, the sleeping prince closed the space between them.

Alban kissed gently “You are truly exquisite, my pet.” He whispered sliding a gloved hand over the boy’s perfect skin and lower still to the growing warmth between his legs. In a visible crack of white the boy recoiled, eyes wide and confused. Whatever spell Alban had raptured this creature with was now broken.

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Kyle saw himself. A thin boy with long legs and a tattered fringe of spiked Navy hair. He was standing in the middle of the snowdrift. Kyle stood wondering why he feels the crisp delineation of the world rifting through his insides. A soft whisper tugs at his dream, ghosting its way down his neck. It is with the sweetest of feelings that he gingerly rocks toward the vibration tearing at his senses. Staring into the cloud of artificial fever Kyle could barely distinguish shapes or brightness. His eyes refused to open more than a degree at a time. All he could understand was the rising heat and magnetic pulse that thundered beneath the sway of his nimble consciousness.

“Are you thirsty?” echoed against the chasm of his mind. A deep throb tightened in his chest. The lusty whisper brought him closer to the waking world. He began to speak but the effort was excruciating. Kyle found himself once again a slave to the rolling tide of his lucidity. Painful memories of conflict, burning screams and Tanaguran guards stabbing at his brain.

“You are truly exquisite, my pet.”

The words seemed beautiful and lyrical until they were processed. Pet resonated throughout the boy’s skull. A vile anger blossomed and cool realization surfaced. Kyle’s eyes snapped to attention. The light and gravity forced them shut in adjustment.

A man lays atop me screamed his mind. A tall leanly muscled man with wheat hair
and eyes that were grey one moment, and purple the next.

Together, on the bed, they were an unstoppable pair of frozen statues. Kyle’s limbs sat paralyzed at his sides. His mind crying out for justice, answers and ghosts.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The faint sound of birds fluttering tore through Alban’s mind as he looked into the boy’s eyes. The boy’s face was clear, a nose, skin, and bones beneath like any other, but the purchase had deep eyes that sat round and abysmal in wet translucence. They were black like coal and lent a poignancy to his demeanor. Alban carefully watched as his pet visibly carried his emotions in a belt of tightly strung nerve fibers that sang out clearly in defiance. This was no slave captured from the highlands. Alban leaned forward and seized a deep kiss that demanded compliance. He felt the body below him stiffen and sink into the red coverlet. The boy’s tongue was soft and timid. He wondered if the rest of him was this timid. The boy lay there nearly motionless as he secured both of his soft wrists.

A dull shock echoed off the ceiling. Alban grabbed his forehead in annoyance as the boy sunk back into the bed looking nauseous and near unconsciousness. The little imp had slammed the hairline of his skull into the enemy’s cranium. A foolish miscalculation, the boy was probably too disoriented to aim for more tender parts. The damage was of equal distribution. Definitely. Definitely not a slave from the highlands, thought Alban as he favored the growing lump on his brow and stormed out of the red room.

“Wren!” He called out unnecessarily loud to his obedient furniture. “Cancel my appointment for tomorrow. I’ll be staying in to deal with the new arrival.”

“I will make it so master.” Wren procured a rather nasty line of finger marks on his forearm. “Since this was the result of him earlier today under full sedatives and with several other attendants to assist me...perhaps I should cancel your appointments for the week?”

Alban raised an elegant eyebrow at the marks. “Wise of you Wren. Make it so. I will take dinner in the loft this evening. See that the boy sleeps through the night. I’ll deal with him tomorrow. No food or water.”

“Yes sir.” Wren recoiled at the silent rage in his master’s aura.

Alban slammed his fists into the travertine of the garden. He was shaken and shuddering. He wanted the creature in the red room. Those eyes held no inkling of submission. “How can that be. Have I purchased some common mongrel in an angel’s shell? I will break him.” A fist slammed into the stone and came back flecked red.

“This behavior will end tomorrow.”

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