Dark Feather: A Dark Post Apocalyptic Romance (11 page)

“By a Cyan? They don’t have the wit. My house is protected. What right have you to ruin our party with your wild and drunken imaginings? If anything goes wrong, you will be held accountable.”

“The enemy is not planning to storm your walls,” Blaxton replied, lowering the glass he drank from. The wine wetting his mouth gave off the effect of blood-tinted lips. “The enemy is already here.”

At once, my father gazed at everyone standing on the floor. Terror crept through the room and—by the looks on their faces—none of the party guests knew what might happen next. The revelry died to a whimper, and the players in the orchestra grew pale.

My father looked out into the glittering event, his thoughts, no doubt, grotesque with the paranoia of a madman. The musicians started again at his behest. To and fro the guests danced, my father’s eyes scanning the densely packed floor with disgust.

After a few moments, my father leaned over to one of his guards who stood by his side and whispered something into his ear. My father then took a large swallow of his wine and at a sudden wave of his hand, the guards seized the first guest with a violent carelessness.

“Everyone in this party will have to meet with me and answer a few simple questions. I ask that you speak honestly. If an assassin is in this room, I will find him. If I suspect even the tiniest lie, you
will
be hanged from the gatehouse for all to see.” He took another large swig of his wine and gave an evil smile. “Now, until it is your turn to speak with me, pay no attention and dance and drink.”

Wasting no time, the guards shuffled an unwitting guest to stand at my father’s feet.

The first soldier, by the name of Denton Edwards, stood before my father. He had been a loyal fighter for years. He not only fought ruthlessly, but he had been to our house many times as a guest. “This is crazy, sir,” Edwards said, his voice echoing down the hall. “I have been nothing but a loyal and trustworthy soldier. Why are you questioning that?” He swallowed hard. “Would you like me to leave?”

“Well,
go on
then,” my father said.

I couldn’t believe my eyes, I looked around to the others watching with fear as they waited their turns. The orchestra still played without missing a note.

“This is what they want. The Cyan want us at each other’s throats.”

When the soldier was finished talking, my father replied, “That is not the answer I care to hear.”

Edwards sighed. “General Dane, please be reasonable.”

“Hang him first thing in the morning,” my father commanded with zero emotion.

At his guards’ shocked looks, my father nodded. His guards took the soldier through the entry doors and out to the cells to await hanging from the gatehouse at first light. My heart skipped, and what I saw did not feel quite real. I pulled on my father’s arm, praying he would heed my words. I offered him another glass of wine.

“Drink, Father, please. What about the victory? We should be celebrating. Stop listening to Blaxton. He’s just a drunken idiot. No one standing before you plans to kill you. I assure you of this.”

He only blinked and didn’t sip the wine. His fingers streaked down my face. “I will do what must be done, and I’ll hear no more of it.”

Then the eldest son of a platoon leader was pushed forward in short order.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asked, pulling away from the soldiers.

“I don’t imagine I have…” my father replied with a wave.

Just as quickly, he vanished to be hanged from the gatehouse along with the other soldier recently sentenced to death. Nevertheless, the music still rose off the limestone walls. In fear of reprisal, the guests who were dancing didn’t dare to stop. My father was clearly convinced that somehow, with the numbers now steadily dwindling, someone would eventually confess in order to stop this.

He pointed to one of the women, who just shortly before had been riding the cock of a victorious archer. In my father’s eyes, she
must
have been the one seeking to betray him. His guards dragged her by the hair, begging for mercy.

“I’ve done nothing wrong! Please,” she cried with tears in her eyes. She clasped her hands and trembled on her knees. “Spare me! Don’t be so cruel!”

“I don’t know who to believe. Take her, like all of the rest.”

And the woman, just as the others, was forced through the entry door to be imprisoned to await her death. Mewling howls whirled in the room as each guest was brought before my father and then summarily seized against their will. Trusted soldiers, commanders, high-ranking officials, women—all were sentenced to hang. The sounds began to soften as less guests leaped up to stand trial before the crazed general.

If one simply stared at the flickering flames on the chandeliers, the dreamlike music, and the half-full glasses and plates on the table, it would appear as though a great bash had come to an end. No, instead my father had to prove a point no matter how many lives it took. Soon enough, the room only had five people left besides the orchestra who still barely played on. Two guards, Blaxton, me, and my father— the general of the Penna.

Very quickly, my father honed in on Blaxton with narrowed eyes. Blaxton hadn’t said much since the witch hunt had begun. Not even a twinge of fear crossed his face. He’d led armies thousands of men strong, and facing a gruesome death was merely a fact of life. The man didn’t even bother to stand. Instead, he remained seated in his chair.

“You are the one who did this. Your lies,” my father shouted. “Their blood will be on your hands.”

Expressionless, Blaxton didn’t move. “You are nothing but a sick man. A heartless lunatic. I’d rather swing from a rope and be free of you once and for all.”

My father craned his neck out further. “So you will…”

My father’s words dropped like a hammer on my heart. From where I sat, the guards readied themselves to take Blaxton—their leader—to be hanged from the gatehouse. The orchestra stared into the empty room, afraid to say a word lest they’d be next.

My father glanced at me before savoring a long sip from the glass I’d given him. He smiled at me with a promising, toothy grin. I watched him take another long drink of the wine and smiled back as my heart skipped a few beats.

“You will make the most beautiful breeder, just like your mother.”

“I want to be a fighter, not a breeder. I told you this,” I answered as I watched him drink the wine.

Suddenly, I watched him stagger back in his chair, swiping something from under his nose. Blood dripped down his red face. My pulse rose as I leaned toward him underneath the gleaming candlelight. His mouth hung agape, and he could not find the words. His breath made flat sucking noises. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get air. He stared into my eyes, clutching at the sparkling silverware and knocking over the wine he’d just drunk.

The wine…

I smiled again. “Did the wine not settle well with you, Father? Or would you like some more poison… I mean… wine?” The evil laced in my voice surprised me.

Realization of who the traitor truly was sank in as he struggled for his final breaths and fell to the floor.

I kneeled, watching him like a cat does a rat. Helpless.

“What would you like me to say, Father? You had it coming. Not only for what you just did—ordering the deaths of your own people—but I know the truth about how mother died. I did nothing but stand by your side during all of your pillaging and killing innocent Cyans, but you didn’t have to kill her,” I seethed through closed teeth. I slapped him so hard a red handprint marked his face. “And I told you that I refused to be a breeder and you didn’t listen. So I made a deal. I made a deal with your second in command. I kill you—the general—and I get to join the army. Seemed fitting for all you have done. You die, and I profit. Although I would have killed your ruthless ass for free.”

He jerked wildly, and his grip softened until his rough hands flopped to his sides. A bitter astonishment spread over his face—he’d been murdered by his daughter. The gurgling sound in his throat made me cover my ears. He reached for me, panting, huffing and unable to cough. The tyrant looked so helpless—like a child who had fallen from a crib. I looked him in the eyes and inhaled a sweet breath of air. It would only be a few more minutes now. The poison seeped through his blood and deep into his bones.

I poured myself a glass of wine, free from poison, as he writhed on the floor and snorted through his nose for air. A tart taste—thick, rich, and acidic—flowed onto my tongue. “Release the prisoners,” I commanded as I made eye contact with Blaxton. “And congratulations, Blaxton. You are now the new general.”

He simply nodded with a small smile. “Welcome to the Penna army, Tudor. I know you will make a great fighter someday.”

* * * * *

I finished my story and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, not wanting to face the condemnation on Rigby’s face. “Not long after, I became a mercenary for the Penna. I believed it was what I was meant to do.” I took a deep breath. “So you see, I am a murderer.”

Rigby reached out and grabbed both of my hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed the top of each one. For the first time during the whole story, he finally spoke. “Each one of us who fights in battle is a murderer.”

I opened my eyes in shock, and rather than seeing judgment, I saw compassion, understanding, and love. Emotions I was not prepared to see, not yet sure if they were truth or illusion.

“No… that is different. I… I am guilty of one of the most evil sins… I am guilty of an awful crime. I murdered my own father.”

“We all have killed, my warrior. All for different reasons. Not one of us can judge the actions of men and women in this dark time. You did what you were brought up to do. You were taught not to love, not to show mercy. It was the way of the Penna, and I will never hold that against you.”

“Do you think I’m an awful person?” I looked at the feathers on my wrist. “I’m a Penna. I’m ruthless, heartless, cruel.”

“Maybe you were. And maybe you still hold those deep inside of you. But I’m happy for that. It is what makes you strong. It is what makes me know you can go to battle and come out alive. I don’t want you to lose that part of you.”

“But you said I should find submission and softness.”

“To me. And you have. I love that part of you as well, my dark feather. I love everything and all that you are.”

“I killed my father,” I whispered.

“Yes, but was he really your father? Did he love you?”

I shook my head. “No, I told you. Penna aren’t allowed to love.”

“Then he was nothing more than an enemy in battle. He was simply your first kill of many.” Rigby leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “But I hope to end the killing soon. I want to give you so much more. You
deserve
so much more.”

“Will that day ever come?”

He sighed. “Maybe not in our lifetime, but someday. It has to. Humanity has to step in sometime and take over.”

War, death, and more death. It had been going on relentlessly for three weeks now. We had bodies piled up and no time to bury them. I hurried up the windward side of the ridge and felt a striking chill billow against my aching back. In the distance, the sun began to set, beginning the formation of the dark-dusk sky. Instinctively, I raised my arm across my face to shield the white-hot glare from blinding my eyes. Somewhere out there, Rigby swung his sword into the hearts of our enemy. I drew my hands into my chest, clutching my fingers tightly to try to ease my nerves, wanting desperately to be out in the thick of it.

I wanted to draw my bow and fire off arrows into the men who reveled in the slaughter of innocent people. I didn’t expect miracles. In fact, I was prepared for the worst, but secretly I hoped each of Rigby’s men would return in one piece.

The pain deep in my leg was not anywhere as debilitating as standing alone, helpless and far away from the war front. Only a few remained at camp. Most were fighting this war. There I stood; my fingers trembling with anticipation, each passing second stretching like a lifetime, further filling my terrified soul with dread. A small voice within me whispered that he was definitely alive, that he would come as he’d promised. But it would only be drowned out by the far louder one in my head shouting at me to leave and find him myself. Yet the memory of my last spanking and submission to him played heavily in my decision to stay.

Word came back that the battle had been won in our favor. Yes, we had won, but at what cost? I uttered a silent, pleading prayer for just one more glimpse of his face before he was stolen from me. Then a thought came to me. How long could we keep up the fight before Rigby was eventually killed? Maybe I would die first, or we would die in the same battle. But regardless, we would die. How many soldiers would Cyan sacrifice before realizing this war has no end? There could be no happy ending for us; I knew this to be the truth. Not here, not in this subzero world.

A sound in the distance brought me back to reality, and I turned to lay my eyes upon a tall figure emerging from the rolling hills of snow and ice. My heart skipped a beat as anticipation filled me, my breath catching in my throat as I waited to see if it would be my true love returning to me, or only my mind playing some terrible trick. Rigby and his men were marching now— heading right towards me, and I raced down the ridge to finally give my warriors a warm welcome home.

His face was weary, and there were deep circles beneath his dark eyes. He looked very much the part of an exhausted man, rather than that of a weary warrior. He looked broken, almost defeated. And yet, when our eyes met, the pain that had filled his gaze melted away. Neither of us moved for what seemed an eternity, as if both believing the other to be a dream, a mirage conjured up by a tired mind to soothe the tormented soul. He was the first to break the silent stillness that seemed to encompass us like a heavy blanket.

“Tudor…” My name bubbled from his lips like the most precious of secrets, his lengthy stride closing the distance between us, and bringing his arms to snatch me up in the warmth of his embrace. The rest of the soldiers marched past us silently, allowing us to reunite in private.

As the days had passed and turned into weeks, fear had planted a seed of doubt within my heart, I had begun to believe Rigby dead. I did not speak, but the joy I felt shimmered in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks in crystal droplets, soon to be wiped away by dirty fingers from his calloused hands.

“I thought I had lost you.” My voice was barely a whisper above the gentle breeze that blew my hair over one cheek. I gripped what remained of his tattered shirt, fingertips smoothing over ancient scars that littered his pale and battered flesh.

“It was a hard and costly battle, but the thought of breaking your heart kept me alive.” His fingers, stained with blood and dirt, slid over my cheek as his lips met mine in the most tender of kisses. Passionate, fulfilling, perfect. The pain of war, of loss, of defeat—nothing could break his spirit while I still lived. Hope had carried him back to me. When finally our lips parted, there was nothing to be found between us but smiles and warmth, compassion and understanding passing through the depth of our gaze.

“You look exhausted,” I told him, brushing the snowflakes off his brow.

Rigby pulled me in, kissed me on the forehead, and answered, “I am alive, and for now, that is all that matters.” He pointed at my bandaged leg. “Is it healing any better?” he asked in that intolerably protective tone.

“My leg is fine. It’s the best it’s going to get,” I reassured him. “And you and I both know I am not doing anyone any favors standing on the sidelines. I should have been fighting right beside you.”

He looked down at me. Even worse, he looked right through me, utterly perplexed that I’d even make such a statement. “We are not going to debate this.”

I bristled from within. Was I just not to have
any
say in the matter? Should I simply spread my legs right this second and reserve myself to being Rigby’s kept concubine?

“Whenever I give you any command, it’s your cue to turn everything into a fight. You are a soldier. You take orders. Or do I need to remind you of that with the palm of my hand?”

I took one look at him, eager to get him to listen. “But apparently I am not a soldier. Commanders don’t leave their best fighters off the battlefield.”

“It is final, there is no use discussing it. You will not be changing my mind,” he replied, less politely this time.

“You can’t keep me off the line!” I didn’t mean to pick a fight the minute of his return, but I couldn’t help myself.

“I will spank you in front of all of these men if you continue to question my decision.”

I fell silent and swiftly moved out of the way so he could pass and join the weary soldiers. Rigby reached for my arm and pulled me close as he headed to his tent. “Come with me.”

I looked up into his eyes, trying to read if he was angry. Did he plan on spanking me? “Don’t be angry with me.”

“I couldn’t possibly be angry with you after being apart for so long.” He led me to his tent and opened the flap. “But I do need to be alone with you.”

In moments, he had removed all his weapons and his bloody, tattered clothes. I rushed off to find a bowl of water so I could clean the death from his body. Walking back into the tent, I found him naked and asleep on his fur pelt.

I debated leaving him and letting him rest, but decided he needed to be free of any memories of the last battle. Dipping the cloth in the water, I began washing the grime off his body with the most tender of touches. He moaned softly but never opened his eyes.

I washed every inch of his body but paused as I reached his sex. Even not aroused, his size seemed daunting. The thought of his cock inside me not only excited me, but it scared me at the same time. I rinsed the cloth and began to rub as gently as I could, trying hard not to wake him. As I washed around his manhood, I watched in fascination as it grew and stiffened.

I jumped and nearly spilled the dish of bloodied water when he asked, “Do you like what you see?”

“I… I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just… I was just cleaning you up.” I placed the bowl down and tried to rise to my feet, but he grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me close to him.

“Kiss me,” he ordered in a gruff whisper.

I followed his direction gladly. I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against mine.

“Remove your clothes,” he ordered again.

I stood up and with as much grace as I could muster, removing each item swiftly.

Rigby stretched out on the bed completely on his back, and rested his hands behind his head, clearly enjoying the display.

“Stand before me.”

I did so without protest.

“Spin, and allow me to see that bottom of yours.”

I did as he asked, turning my back to him.

“Bend over so I can see you on full display.”

I paused for a moment, but did as he asked.

“Spread your cheeks for me. I want to see the bottom hole that I plan to claim.”

My heart skipped, but I reached behind me and pulled apart the fleshy mounds of my ass. The cool breeze invading the most intimate of spots sent shivers down my spine. He said nothing for seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime. I remained in position, almost feeling his stare. Juices formed between my silky folds, and I was sure he could indeed see that, as well. I could smell my scent of need and wondered if he could smell it.

I heard the motion of him getting out of bed. I remained in position, determined to stay that way until he gave the command to move. I could hear him rummaging through something, and fought the temptation to glance over.

I jumped slightly when I felt his palm on my ass. “Keep them spread,” he directed. A cold liquid touched my hole, and I tensed and nearly let go of my hands. “I want to take you here. I want my cock buried in the depth of your bottom.”

My heart beat so hard, I could feel the pulse in my temples. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, trying not to jerk up and run out of the tent. Panic mixed with a forbidden desire to have him do just as he pleased rumbled within me.

He continued to spread the liquid all around my anus and pressed it past the puckered hole with his finger. He coated every inch of my rosebud, preparing it for entry.

He moved me to the bed and pressed me down to lie on my stomach. “I will be gentle, but this will take some time for you to adjust. I need you to trust me, relax with my touch, and completely give me your submission. If you do so, you will find this highly pleasurable.”

I nodded. I couldn’t have said anything if I tried. My breathing came in ragged pants, and my body hummed with a sensation I had never known.

He lowered himself over my back and began to softly kiss the side of my neck, my shoulder, my earlobe—each kiss bestowing tingles to my sex. His erection pressed against the crease of my butt.

“I’m scared,” I finally admitted.

“I will take care of you. Just breathe and trust me.”

“Will this hurt?” I asked, fearful of the unknown. With every spanking of late, Rigby had been putting his finger and sometimes two inside of me. He warned that he would one day claim my ass, and he was getting me prepared. It seemed that the day of the claiming had finally arrived.

“A little. You will feel a bite of pain as my cock enters you. But as your little hole relaxes, it will allow me better entrance. You just have to relax the best you can.” He kissed my neck and nibbled my ear. “But the pleasure I give you will be worth the little bit of pain.”

He reached down with his hand and guided his cock to my tight back entrance. Very slowly, and with so much control, he pressed the tip of his dick past the tight ring. He paused so I could get used to the initial shock.

“Relax. Open yourself to me,” he purred in my ear, following the words with soft kisses to my neck.

He pushed further, causing me to gasp. The bite, the stretch, the erotic feeling, all became too much. I shook my head. “You are too large for me to accept.”

Rigby whispered in my ear, “Take a deep breath.” I did as he asked. “Take another one, and relax your muscles. You need to trust that once I am fully inside you, it will give you pleasure. Submit your fear, your tension, and your body to me.”

He reached a hand around my front and found my clit. He circled his finger around, causing me to moan in delight. I focused my attention on the arousal his finger gave me and was able to ease the muscles of my anus. Doing so allowed his cock to press completely into my ass.

“That’s it, my love,” he praised as he slowly pumped his length in and out. “Let me claim that ass of yours. Let me make you mine.”

My bottom hole stretched to impossible levels, but my body heightened with each move of his cock. It was a different type of pleasure than when he gave me an orgasm before, but it was still pleasure.

I had always stood on my own two feet with the strength of ten grown men. I had belonged to no one… until now. Having Rigby’s cock fill my ass and pump in and out gave me a sense of belonging. At that very moment, I was his. I had given myself completely.

“I want to come in your ass,” he moaned.

“Yes, yes!”

His gentle thrusts became a little more aggressive. Each push went slightly deeper than before. Tingles in my ass became sparks of ecstasy. My dark channel pulsated around his cock and I screamed out his name.

My sound of pleasure brought on a few more driving thrusts, and Rigby concluded the conquering with a roar. I could feel his shooting seed fill my hole.

We rested on his bed for quite some time. I listened to his soft snores, knowing he’d used up whatever energy he had left. It took days to recover from battle, though many never had that luxury. I rested my head on his chest, combing my fingers through the black curls that coated it. There was a sense of contentment and safety lying within his arms. But something still bothered me. Would we lose each other in battle?

Irritation bubbled within me at the thought of how Rigby limited my involvement. No doubt it was because of his fear of losing me; he would die to protect me, this I knew. But I was a soldier. I took pride in being one.