BREAK
2633 Words
B E N T O N
“Oh. It is the dogs,” said Emperor Caliban Lastra-Gastaldelli.
Benton Irynwulfe rolled his eyes. The Italian Vampire was not on the list of beings that Benton wanted to interact with.
“Emperor Caliban, that is still offensive. Like, it’s just offensive. In more ways than one.”
“Perhaps this is right. We are family now, aren’t we?” Caliban replied. “I will work on this, tolerating you.”
Beam Greenbree--Benton’s beta wolf-- chuckled behind him.
“Work on not calling me a dog.”
Caliban hemmed and pressed his long black metal cane against a statue.
“Why are you here? Why this marriage,” he asked.
“I could ask you the same exact thing. Why the boy?” Benton said.
“That man is the same age as the sister, and I have my reasons just as you. The Principessa is not your first option,” Caliban remarked. He smirked at the other man.
Benton wanted to hit him.
Benton was much larger than Caliban in both height and size but the vampire was one of the most dangerous and tricky opponents Benton knew of in the supernatural world.
He did not want him as an enemy on a normal day and he certainly did not want to make life more difficult for his new bride.
“Yeah well I’m lazy and arranged marriages are easy,” Benton said in response.
Caliban opened his mouth to speak but didn’t.
Benton wasn’t even surprised the vampire did not come with a second or an entourage. He was deadly and unassuming and could charm the pants off an old woman.
There was a barrage of sound as the large ornate metal doors opened. King Callora approached them.
“Gentlemen, it is truly an honor to visit. I wish this was a more fortuitous occasion. Shall we move to a meeting room?” Callora said.
“You’ve brought us here to discuss terms so we shall discuss,” Caliban said.
Benton nodded in agreement.
“I kind of hate space travel and I don't want to stay here longer than I have to,” Benton said to the King.
King Callora nodded.
“I suppose there was never any need for formality,” he said. “How many can you spare?”
Caliban replied quickly. “A dozen or so of my kind shall help immensely. You don’t need large numbers with us.”
“I can send 50 wolves to fight, King Callora,” Benton said.
“It’s not as much as we wanted but you are both more powerful than the Saturnali,” he replied.
“Cool. What about the dowry and bride price?” Benton asked.
He didn’t mean to come across as callous, but he really wanted to get back home. He felt exposed and vulnerable in a new environment and frankly seeing the ruined castle and the near-empty halls made the hair at the back of his neck stand up.
“The bride price is exorbitant. This will not be negotiated. The dowry once we win the war will certainly make up for that,” Callora said.
“I waive mine. I do not want it and I do not care. I’ll pay whatever it is you need,” Caliban said.
Benton raised his eyebrow.
Why did he want to marry the brother so much?
“That is certainly much obliged, Emperor. We will place it in a trust for Lyra to use as he pleases,” Caliban responded.
“Your majesty,” Benton tried. “No, uh, your grace? Maybe? King Callora, can I meet her today?”
The King fixed his eyes on the Alpha Werewolf. He nodded after a moment.
“I shall arrange for you both to spend time with the twins before you leave.”
“Great. Is that everything we needed to talk about? We’re starved,” Benton said.
“My King, there are great topics we must broach,” Caliban said.
The King nodded and motioned for Caliban to follow.
“‘Jesus,” Beam joked after the two were gone.
“You think she’ll be like him?”
Benton did not know what to say.
L Y R A
In the Medic Bay, Lord Pymor appeared as pristine as he normally did. The purple-skinned man had always played a significant part in the Royal Council. It had been his idea to send the nobility away from the capital city of Garwen-Marr.
"Your Lordship," Lyra said by way of greeting.
There was a moment of silence, and that silence felt like it stretched beyond the reaches of time.
Ellea linked hands with her brother.
"Children," Lord Pymor said. "The war has taken a much larger toll on the crown than we had anticipated."
Lyra knew what this meant. He has known it since childhood. His duty was always to breed, and he felt ashamed he ever thought he would wear the crown.
He had woken up in a flurry of noise and feeling. Humiliation for forgetting his duties and fainting in court, fear for what was yet to come, anger at having his life stolen from him by his smarmy younger brother. He had not had enough time to process any of these before Ellea forced her way into the room.
“These unions will bring us both currency and troops to aid in the battles yet to come,” Pymor said. “‘In a way. . . it is one of the noblest things you could do for the crown.”
“Lord Pymor, you are dismissed,” Ellea said.
He nodded reluctantly and left the room.
Lyra tried to stand before Ellea swatted him back down.
“Sit and the guards will fetch water,” she said.
Lyra waited until they were alone. “We could run, my love,” he said. “We could flee to the Red Desert, and live amongst the nomads! We could take a ship to Venus and become fur traders. We could do anything other than stay here.”
Ellea furiously glanced around. “You speak of treason, and you speak it casually!”
“I only mean for us to have a chance!”
“Ly. We have had a very trying day. Hours ago our lives were at risk! We must rest before rash decisions are made,” she tried to soothe him.
“What is a rash decision if not one made by the pure emotions of our heart?”
Ellea let his hand go and rolled her eyes.
“You must rest, and that is final.”
B E N T O N
Benton stood in the doorway. The conversation had taken a good chunk of time and then he and Beam ate food in their room. It was a modest feast but it was decadent and exotic and Benton had chosen to take a nap afterward. He knew Callora set up a meeting between the two couples before they left but it felt weird to be standing in her bedroom.
The girl sat at the desk. With one hand she brushed through the long black tresses. She must have been dressed for bed, but Benton really couldn’t tell. The clothes the aliens wore were confusing to a guy from California.
He cleared his throat to let her know of his presence.
She glanced at him. Her eyes were golden, or a color similar to what he knew as gold.
“You may approach, my Lord,” she said.
Benton liked the sound of her voice. Her lilting accent ran over the words and he felt he could experience a lifetime with her saying his name. He didn’t like being called lord.
“We can meet somewhere else if you like,” Benton said as he walked into the room.
“Have you such care for my virtue?” Ellea asked. “My lord, I have none.”
“My name is Benton.”
“Why did you buy me?”
Benton blanched at the idea of purchasing some sort of mail-order bride or cattle to breed. The truth was that he needed someone to marry so the archaic rules of the Alpha role would be met.
Benton had a mate once. A beautiful Cuban woman named Paloma. He met her the summer before college. She was as headstrong as he was, and a tough-as-nails mechanic who outraced him on the track any day. They knew they were mates the moment they saw each other. The cosmic pull of a mating call was never something anyone could ignore, and they learned they were perfectly suited to each other. Benton had been head over heels in love.
Paloma was gone, and Benton needed to take the pack to new heights.
Women had volunteered. No, women had made it known they wanted the ring but Benton felt uncomfortable dating from the surrounding territories let alone from his own pack.
He was not looking for a romantic partner. He did not expect to have s*x, make babies or even be in love. He just wanted Grandma Mabel to leave him alone.
“You were not bought. Your people need help. I’m here to provide that. In return, I just want you to smile at community events.” Benton said in a huff.
“My Lord, I did not expect you to be so foolish,” she said in reply.
“My name is Benton! Ben-Ton. Stop calling me lord,” he said. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms.
She had put her brush down at some point. He hadn’t noticed.
“I’m not looking for love here. I had a wife. She’s dead. We can get a divorce in a year or so. Whatever, dude.”
Ellea stared at him. Hard. Benton felt vulnerable under her gaze. He was afraid she could see all of his secrets and his mistakes. The weight of it was enough to make him question his decisions and he felt small then. Smaller than he ever had,
“I dismiss you from my chamber,” she said.
Her jaw was clenched. She turned her eyes away and stared past him as if the wall behind him held far more important things to stare at.
Clearly, he had done something wrong.
“Wait! Princess! I’m sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot here.”
“Go,” she said.
She stood up, smoothed her bed-skirts, and turned away.
The conversation clearly over.
Benton felt like he had majorly f****d up.
L Y R A
The gardens stood proud. How fortunate they had not been destroyed. Intricate vines crisscrossed along the outer walls. Various flowers, most indigenous to other planets in their solar system, grew in specified sections. Lyra would miss the gardens the most.
He had dreams. So many. They slipped through his grasp like mercurian water on a day at the beach. He wanted to renovate the capital gardens and make them open to the public.
There was no excitement in meeting his new husband for the first time. No moonflies buzzing around his stomach, no sweaty palms or tingling hair. He wasn’t even wearing the traditional marriage robes. It felt cheap. It felt unfair.
Emperor Caliban. How smug a name. There was no joy in being a conquest of war. Lyra was not a toy to play with when one was bored. He was a respected, intelligent, and well-favored member of high Jupiteran society. He was never going to allow someone (especially not a stranger!) to make decisions for him or tell him what to do.
Lyra approached the half-destroyed statue of Zoraxis, the Goddess of life. He thought a prayer quickly before turning to the man standing there.
“Your God is a donna?” the man asked Lyra.
Lyra spoke many languages but the complexities of the thousands on Terra escaped him.
The vampire had long black hair and olive skin.
They admired each other. The silence wrapped around them in a cozy cocoon. One that Lyra did not want to break first.
Finally, he found his words.
“The Goddess Zoraxis gave us life. We honor her with our breath,” Lyra said.
“Ah. You’re a religious one,” Caliban said.
Lyra wanted to touch the smooth expanse of his cheek which was marred by a small expanse of black freckles.
“I,” Lyra spoke before registering Caliban’s words. “Terra? Where on Terra are you from?”
Geography was as safe a conversation as Lyra could think of. Anything to avoid this buzzing attracting growing inside him.
“I was born in Italy, many years ago,” Caliban said.
“Italy,” Lyra let the word sit in his mouth. It was as foreign as the man in front of him. “Is that where you live now? Where I will live?”
Caliban led Lyra to the only up-standing bench in the garden and they sat. Their thighs touched. Lyra in his kotak, Caliban in a long khaki trench coat and flared blue jeans (clothes Lyra did not recognize but viewed flatteringly) and there was a sudden shock of electricity. Lyra jumped and Caliban smiled.
“You are like a little rabbit. A little coniglio marrone. You are nervous, little rabbit?” Caliban asked.
Lyra gulped. He had so much conviction walking into this meeting. It had all flown out the door the moment he laid eyes on those plump lips and sharp brown eyes. Caliban was gorgeous. Ridiculously so. He was almost the same height as Lyra, and he seemed muscular and well filled out.
“I confess I was feeling rather excited at the prospect of meeting you today,” Lyra said.
“Hmm, little rabbit, I have been waiting for you a long time.”
“Waiting for me?”
Caliban nodded. He leaned in closer to Lyra. Tendrils of his long hair brushed over the bare shoulder not covered by the Kotak.
It was electric. The sensation felt like being drunk. Like there was not a single thing wrong in the universe. Like Caliban was the solution to every equation scholars had ever written.
“I like your curls. They smell like this garden” Caliban said.
Lyra chose not to respond. He looked away. They sat in companionable silence. Caliban seemed to be allowing Lyra to set the pace.
“Is it bad? That I am religious, as you said,” Lyra asked.
“Why? Do you want to please me?” Caliban replied.
Lyra blushed.
Yes. He wanted to say. Yes. Every bone in his body had always wanted to please someone. From his Father’s unscrupulous standards to Novak’s unyielding faith in his son, Lyra had only ever wanted to please.
But with Caliban’s hot breath on his ear and his slender long fingers gripping his wrist, Lyra wanted to please in an entirely different way.
Wait. What?
“Emperor, we must adjourn for the evening. It was rather untoward for us to be all alone prior to our betrothal. Once we are married I expect us both to discuss our rules,” Lyra stood up. He hovered over the sitting vampire and it allowed him to regain his senses.
“We shall meet again,” Lyra said in a high tinny voice. He ran as fast as he could out of the garden.
- Writer
