Dark Desire (3 page)

And now I’m saddled with a warmonger.
He would have
to learn to sleep with one eye open.
When he had to go home,
that is.

Standing in the
Enforcers command center where he spent so much of his life, his oath to serve
sat heavily on his shoulders. It seemed his life would always be one of duty to
his home or the Enforcers. Rows of computers sat in cubicles, the hum of
servers filling the empty space. He took in the long line of flat screen TVs,
satellite feeds from hundreds of cities, keeping them in touch with current
events all over the world.

Damn, I will miss this place.

He would be a
married man when he came back, and he
would
be back. His father couldn’t stop him. Marcus needed him here where he could
make a difference. He’d left Atlantis to become an Enforcer for that very
reason, and with the tensions between the dark breeds and humans escalating
daily his place by the side of his fellow Enforcers became even more crucial.

And
those purist jerk-
offs only brought home how dire things
were becoming.

Since the
Preservation Society got it into their heads all dark breeds posed a threat to
the human way of life, they had started systematically building on people’s
fear and prejudices. The campaign to terrorize the dark breeds worked far too
well, forcing the Enforcers to flee the old HQ like rats on a sinking ship.

Lucky for them
the underground tunnels they utilized to move unseen throughout Las Vegas saved
them from a very violent confrontation. Marcus had the foresight to extend the
tunnel system into the desert connecting to a brand new underground
installation. The work had been finished mere weeks before the appearance of
angry humans on their doorstep. The new HQ, compliments of the Government and
Nellis
Air Force base, came at a price. And there always
was a price. The Enforcers agreed to help in some of their more “delicate”
missions overseas when needed.

For now, the US
government and the Enforcers worked in tandem, the partnership harmonious.
Hell, they were even helping Marcus with a summit between the leaders all over
the world and the dark breeds in an attempt to offer an olive branch of sorts.
Since the day of the uprising far too many had been lost on both human and dark
breed sides. Much worse, for the dark breeds, though, when their leaders called
the Tribunal ended up slaughtered.

With no
leadership, the breeds were lost and vulnerable to those such as the
Preservation Society. Fortunately, Marcus, at his consort
Tambra’s
urging, had decided to take a bigger leadership role as the face and voice for
all the dark breeds. The summit was set to take place in just under seven
months. If they could only keep the Preservation Society from killing them all
off that is.

“Your temporary
replacement will be here in a few hours. Why don’t you get some shut-eye before
your trip?” Marcus’s voice intruded on his musings, bringing Zeke back to the
present.

“I have some
stuff to finish up here first.”

Marcus threw him
one of his famous pointed glares. “You’re still one of my men. Don’t make me
order you.”

Zeke threw his
hands up in surrender. “All right, I’m going, but rest is the last thing I’ll
be able to do.”

Zeke left Marcus
and Nicolai in the command center, but instead of going down to his quarters,
he took the elevator up topside. The sound of a hammer pounding on wood led him
to Tegan and Kyra, busy refurbishing the barn into living quarters. Tegan,
their resident doctor and were-panther,
needed more space
than the apartments buried thirty feet below would
provide. It left him
feeling too much like being caged.

Zeke found him
pounding nails into sheetrock while Kyra studiously handed him the nails. A
small smile lit her face as she watched him work. It was not hard to know what
held her attention. Looking at them settled his rising apprehension. His
bargain with his father didn’t seem so bad when he saw these two together.
Seeing the love the two shared made everything right in his world.

“I thought I’d
find you two up here,” Zeke drawled, leaning against the framework to one of
the walls Tegan had already built.

With a small
squeal of delight, Kyra threw the nails to scatter upon the concrete floors.
Launching herself across the room, she wrapped him in a tight hug and nearly dislodged
his ever-present shades.
“Zeke!
We are so glad you
didn’t leave without saying goodbye. I would have to be very upset with you.”

He laughed,
giving her a tight hug before putting her at arm’s length. “You look great,
Kyra. I would never have guessed you just got out of surgery a week ago.”

Her dark eyes
softened as she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Tegan, who watched
with an indulgent smile. “It helps when you have the world’s best doctor for a
mate, plus as you well know, being at least part
Atlantean
I heal very quickly.”

“How long will
you be gone? We really need you here.” Tegan sauntered to stand behind Kyra,
hands resting lightly on her shoulders as she leaned against him.

Zeke cleared the
sudden tight lump in his throat. Gods, to witness so much love made him …
wistful?
Crap
. Better to face the
fact his life would always be one of service and duty. Love like his friends
shared would never be his.

“Ah, well, as
soon as the wedding ceremonies are finished I’ll be heading back. It should
only be a month maybe two and I’ll be back to keep you in line.”

A frown formed
on his friend’s face, his green eyes shadowed with so much regret Zeke wanted
to squirm. “I will never forget the sacrifice you made for us. If not for your
intervention I would not have Kyra in my life.”

 
Zeke raised his hand shaking his head to stop
Tegan from saying any more.
Godsdamn
, he could hardly
be called a saint. It should have been his name in the lottery to marry a
Mer
, never Kyra’s. “I’m just happy the two of you found
each other. That’s enough for me.”

“Yeah, but
marrying someone you don’t love? It’s archaic. No one should be forced into a
loveless marriage,” Kyra said.

“I have always
known I would marry for political reasons. I have been brought up knowing this
since the time I could walk. Marrying a
Mer
princess
will not change my loyalties. I will be back as soon as I’ve met my
responsibilities. Then it will be business as usual.”

As he let
Tegan’s happiness soak into him, Zeke wondered at the sudden heaviness in his
chest. A prophetic sense of unease churned his gut, settling heavy on his
shoulders. He got a flicker of warning his words would come back to haunt him.

****

Atlantis
shimmered under the phosphorescent blue-white glow of the high ceiling carved
out beneath the earth and not surrounded by a bubble as some more imaginative
scholars had hypothesized through the centuries. One hundred and fifty miles
off the Bimini coast history’s legend thrived. Carved out of massive
underground caverns Atlantis spread wide. Like hungry fingers stretching out,
it covered a vast area, built in interconnecting undersea caverns in a five
hundred mile radius as the population grew over the millennia. Transport pods
connected the outlying areas to the heart of Atlantis. The clear water filled
cylinders carried everything from people to produce and merchandise for trade
in the bazaar at the heart of the city.

Amongst the
swarm of humanity and commerce stood the majestic Grecian styled palace of
white marble pillars and graceful archways leading to atriums and gardens of
breath taking beauty. The city sparkled more than usual this day. A time of
rejoicing and expectation filled the air as the people awaited the royal
wedding between Atlantis’s crown prince and the
Lemurian
princess, effectively tying the two houses together and stopping the thousand
year war between them.

Standing in the
royal robes of blue and silver and wishing for his jeans and t-shirts, Zeke did
his damndest to quell the sharp lurch in his stomach. The one thing he refused
to give up was the dark shades. He’d even removed his piercings for this sham
of a marriage. Perched on the raised dais in the gold and ivory reception room,
frescos of mermaids, dragons, and the god Poseidon rising out of a churning sea
adorned the high arched panels encircling the room.

He noticed none
of it as he fought not to completely humiliate his father and hurl onto the
growing crowd. For today, he stood in front of thousands of
Atlanteans
,
but not as Zeke, Enforcer for the dark breeds. No, he stood planted beside his
father, King
Adreaus
, as
Ze’Kerhia
Tamul
Altari
, the sixth in
the
Altari
royal dynastic lineage, and crowned high
prince of Atlantis, etcetera
ad nauseam
.

“Will you
please
take off those ridiculous
blinders?”
Adreaus
demanded.

“Look, Father,
I’m doing as you wish by marrying the
Mer
princess
and
stopping a thousand year old war.
With all due respect, don’t push it. Besides, do you really want all those
whisperings to start again about that ridiculous prophecy?”

 
The sound of trumpets filled the air,
deterring any comment his father would have made. Zeke gazed above the milling
crowd, concentrating on keeping his heart rate slow and easy, pushing down the
urge to run as far and as fast as he could from this sham of a wedding.

Crap, he could
face a dozen
ferals
out for his blood, but he lost
all courage when faced with marriage to a perfect stranger. Oh, yeah, and one
who would more than likely try to slit his throat.

Good times.

The crowd parted
to clear the way for six dark skinned, powerfully built warriors, dark eyes
alert for any sign of danger. Their long black hair, pulled tightly back with a
decorative bone, enhanced their hard angular faces. Tribal tattoos rode high
starting on the left side of their foreheads, traveling down the thick column
of necks and swirling over the hard muscle of shoulders to end in a strong
flourish of black swirls encircling their biceps, reminiscent of the markings
he bore as an
Atlantean
from a royal house, yet
without the glyphs representing a lineage. Dressed in simple tunics and leather
breeches of soft tan, all six were bristling with swords and daggers. Zeke
suddenly wished for the familiar weight of his
sais
,
his battle instinct coming on line at the sign of any threat no matter how slight.

The warriors
split, lining each side of the procession as their dignitaries moved up toward
the dais, dressed in vivid colors or red, blue, green, and yellow. Their robes
swirled about them as they bowed to Zeke and his father. Hastily, they stepped back
making room for their prince.

 
And there he came, amongst the thick silence
filling the room, the sound of his booted feet echoed with every step. A devil
all
Atlanteans
feared, the monster of his people’s
nightmares. Only a man, just like Zeke.

 
Ja’mel
strode up the
rank of warriors and dignitaries with a royal bearing just shy of arrogance.
The high prince made an imposing figure with his sharp black gaze, missing
nothing as he swept the room around him. At six-foot-seven, he towered over
most of the people in the room. His dark ebony skin glowed against the saffron
yellow of his simple tunic and light suede breeches, and his black hair was
pulled back and caught in a painted bone similar to his warriors. And like his
men, he wore the same tribal tattoos starting just above one high cheekbone,
swirling down one side of his face, past his neck, and circling around the
bulge of his bicep. Two sword handles jutted from his back as he stood in front
of the dais. He didn’t bow, just arched one eyebrow with arms crossed over his
deep chest.

Zeke answered
his unspoken challenge with a tilt of his chin.
Anytime, anywhere, asshole.
He
hoped
Ja’mel
made some kind of aggressive move so he
could feed the warrior in him. He could feel the high prince’s gaze boring into
him, gauging him. Zeke’s lips lifted up showing the man his teeth in a subtle
show of aggression. A low growling rumble of warning came from
Adreaus
, obviously catching the unspoken challenge in the
air.

“
Ja’mel
Raail
, you honor us with
your presence.”
Adreaus’s
voice filled the hushed
room as he addressed their old enemy. “This is a time of celebration, the end
of war between us by the joining of two cultures.”

Clever.
Zeke nearly
chuckled. The wily old man had maneuvered
Ja’mel
into
a corner, socially speaking. If he refused the proverbial token of peace, it
would be on his conscience, a lack of honor the king knew the proud
Mers
could not abide. Honor was everything to them. By the
dark look crossing
Ja’mel’s
face, he knew he’d been
played.