Queen of the Damned
Accept the things to which fate binds you and love the people with whom fate brings you together but do so with all your heart.
-Marcus Aurelius
Chapter One
Warm, lithe fingers gently ground against tense shoulder muscles. "Your majesty, allow me to ease your tension…" the owner of the nimble fingers seductively purred, her voice a throaty whisper as thin pink lips ghosted a taut stubbled jaw.
Abruptly, strong, slender fingers gripped the palace concubines jaw in a vice-like grip, her lips frozen, barely skirting the corner of the immortal king's mouth. He shoved her hard, sending her flailing backwards to the floor where she landed ungraciously, her head cracking against the solid marble with an audible thump.
"How dare you place your filthy mouth anywhere in the vicinity of mine - the only woman worthy of such pleasure is my queen and you, harlot, are not she. Now, get out of my sight before I feed you to the Lycan," he spat in disgust.
The dazed and chastised woman stumbled out of the throne room and the king slouched back in his throne even more irritated than he'd been before the woman's arrival. He glanced at the empty throne beside him, sighing despondently as he lowered his head into his hand. A sharp rap on the door to the throne room had him gritting his teeth with a growl.
He was in no mood for company.
"What?!" he barked.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend, your majesty?" a familiar breezy voice filled the silent void of the room and the king's lips twitched.
"I'm sorry, perhaps I'm mistaken but I'm sure I didn't give you permission to enter, Dwayne?" David smirked, steeping his slender fingers beneath his chin.
"My apologies sire," Dwayne grinned, approaching the marble dais, stooping into a low bow. "I see your disdain for the women of the Underworld is growing deeper. What did the wench do this time?"
"It isn't of importance what she did but in reference to your not so subtle statement, yes, my disdain is morphing into downright disgust-" David scowled, "-such cheap, worthless women who offer nothing of substance, merely a pert pair of breasts and a shapely arse. They possess no personality or sense of humility."
"Patience sire, your queen will arrive when destined," Dwayne spoke lowly, his expression softening on noting the longing written in the king's eyes as they subconsciously drifted to the starkly empty throne beside him.
"My patience is wearing thin."
"So I've noticed," Dwayne smirked.
David scowled at the man he'd known since childhood, unimpressed. Was he really that transparent? Or was it that their kindred connection surpassed the role of king and his advisor that provided Dwayne with the ability to read him so well?
"What is your purpose here? If you've just come to poke the bear, I suggest you leave while your limbs are still attached."
Dwayne chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You've always had a flare for the dramatics David."
"It's king David to you, peasant."
"It would seem his majesty is stuck on being a royal dick this evening…"
David thought about whipping his crown at his best friend's head, perhaps one of the sharp onyx thorns would pierce his lips and silence his mocking jibes. However, he decided to push aside his irritation in favour of finding out the cause of the glint of excitement in Dwayne's eyes. "Well come on, spit it out, you sought me out for a reason, yes?"
"Yes-" Dwayne nodded, "-it's time, sire," he smirked, his eyes flashing wolfishly.
A shiver akin to an ice-cold finger danced down the length of the immortal king's spine and he straightened himself up, bracing his back against his throne while his slender fingers curled around the armrests, his body practically vibrating with animalistic hunger. "When?" he rasped, feeling the painful itch of the thirst claw at the back of his throat.
"Tomorrow – the moon will be full and the veil will be lifted."
"Tomorrow," David drawled, a sinister grin tugging at the corner of his pale lips.