Rise of the King

Chapter One

Lazar drew the beauty below him closer. He knew the minute he woke, she would be gone. Her deep brown eyes stared up at him. Her full, rosy lips beckoned to him. He kissed them again, having long since memorized the feel of them. He didn't want to ever wake. Here, in his dreams, he had her.

Sabrina.

His mate.

In waking hours, he had only emptiness in his chest. In reality, Sabrina had perished long ago, never able to grow into the beauty below him. Her life had been cut short. Ended by the bastard who sat upon the throne of his people. A man who had no business wearing the crown.

He held tighter to the dream version of Sabrina, his tongue moving around hers. Their naked forms slid against one another, and he hardened once more. She was paradise. His salvation. She was what the women in his reality weren't.

Perfect.

She was also imaginary.

Sabrina made the slightest sound of pleasure as he lined up with her body. As he pushed in, he snapped awake, alone in his bedchamber. Instantly, his chest ached to return to his slumber—to the dream state that let him live the fantasy life he wanted. Sleep eluded him.

Lazar stared at the deep red material draped around the four-post wooden bed. It was not a color he cared for, but it was not his bed. He was merely a guest who slept in the room. It mattered not how much the castle's owner tried to make Lazar feel welcomed and like he was one of them. He wasn't. He was a falcon-shifter, and they were hawk-shifters. Aside from them both having wings when they wished, they had little in common.

With a vast, exasperated breath, he closed his eyes, his body still hard with need. Lazar tossed aside the remaining covers and lay there, totally exposed and totally nude.

He thumped his head on his pillow. He wanted to fall back asleep. He wanted to return to his dreams of her—of his mate. At least the mate his mind dreamed up for him.

His cock was too full of need to allow him to drift off again. With a sigh, Lazar sat up and grabbed a dark green loincloth. He wrapped it and secured it with a broach indicating his rank among the guards, as was customary to his kind. He eyed his chamber door and stood. With a heavy heart, he moved toward it, knowing he'd search out a serving wench in the castle to satisfy his needs. He hated that weakness. What he hated more was dreaming of a woman he could never have.

Chapter Two

The sun, near setting, edged over the crenels of the castle walls. Each gap let the sun's rays shine through directly into Lazar's eyes. He took a moment to adjust to the change in light levels. The pattern the rays cast onto the training yards was captivating.

Lazar pushed his hair from his face and spun, bringing his sword up to block his opponent's strike. The shock reverberated through his arms. His muscular, trained body absorbed it with relative ease. The blow was hard, and no practice weapons were used, so steel-on-steel sounds echoed throughout the training yard.

Since they were but fledglings, the bird shifters' males practiced with actual weapons. No sense learning if what you were learning with could no more hurt an insect, let alone protect you. As they'd grown into fierce adult males, they'd only perfected the art of battle and swordplay. They conditioned many hours, never allowing their skills to waver. One never knew when one would require them.

The man coming at him had oddly become something of a friend over the course of Lazar's last several years within the Kingdom of the Hawks. Sachin, once someone Lazar would have seized the moment to kill rather than train alongside, turned lightly on his feet, moving with the grace of a true warrior. Lazar drew upon his abilities as a seasoned fighter and twisted, going at his opponent. He nicked Sachin's arm. Something that didn't happen often.

Sachin raised a brow, and a mischievous grin slipped over his face. His amused silver gaze locked on Lazar. "Good one."

"Are you bleeding?" a shrill, feminine voice demanded from the sidelines, interrupting the sparring.

Wisely, both men lowered their weapons as Sachin's mate, Paige, approached the training yard. She eyed her husband and pointed to his upper arm. The tiniest trickle of blood was evident.

It was only a scratch, but from her expression, it was life-threatening. "You're hurt."

Sachin scoffed. No man worth his salt would cry foul over a nick such as the one Lazar had given him. It was easy to see the warrior was insulted anyone would attempt to do so on his behalf. That being said, the person doing it was his wife and his mate, and a delicate balance had to be maintained. "'Tis a scratch, my love."

Paige put a hand on her hip and glared at him, her brown eyes going hard. Her auburn hair spilled over her creamy, pale shoulders. She looked both lovely and slightly like a witch about to cast a thousand poxes upon them all. Lazar guessed the latter, for her temper knew no bounds.

"A scratch, my ass," she sputtered. "You were supposed to be back home for dinner nearly two hours ago, and here I find you horsing around with your buddy and bleeding all over the place?"

It took a moment for Lazar to wrap his mind around all Paige had said. Her human slang often left most of the men of the realm blinking in confusion until they surmised her meaning. Sachin cast Lazar an apologetic look. "It would appear our training has ended for the day."

"You're damn right it's ended," his wife snapped. She was feisty, to say the least.

Lazar failed to hide his laughter as the head of the guards took a verbal lashing from a woman nearly half his size. Paige rounded on Lazar. "Think this is funny? Wait until you're mated, and we women gang up on you. You won't be snickering then, bucko."

Sachin laughed deeply. "That would be a sight."

Huffing, Lazar puffed out his chest. He had no desire to be stuck with one woman and one woman only. "No offense, but I'd much rather sample many women than tie myself to one."

"Watch what you say in front of my wife," Sachin said sternly. "You will not speak of women with ill reputations before her."

Rolling her eyes, Paige snorted and waved her hand in the air. "Oh please. We all know Lazar's reputation with the ladies —if you can call them that. And I'm hardly a blushing virgin anymore."

Lazar waggled his brows, feeling victorious and oddly proud of his reputation.

Sachin jutted out his chin. "I was as you are once, friend. Mark my words. When you meet your mate, everything changes."

Tightness gripped Lazar's chest. His mate had perished over twenty years ago, taking with her his chance at happiness. He plastered a smile to his face, pushing down old feelings of sorrow and regret. They had no place in his life anymore, and there was naught he could do to change the past. It was etched in stone, and he was sentenced to a life without love.

Already his nights were spent dreaming of a woman who did not exist. His days could not be filled with such foolishness as well. The subject wasn't one he'd broach with Sachin or anyone from the Kingdom of the Hawks. It was personal, and it was no use bringing up that which could not be changed. "I am sure you are correct."

Paige shooed Sachin off and followed behind him, continuing to scold him the entire way. Other guards averted their gazes, knowing they'd catch hell from the head of the guards at a later date if they dared acknowledge their commander's humiliation at the hands of his tiny wife.

Lazar debated returning to the castle to search for one of the kitchen maids. After waking from his erotic dream, he'd sought one out, but Sachin had found him and insisted he join the morning training sessions. As much as he craved sexual release, he'd taken two maids in the buttery only yesterday and would be fine for a few more days.

He rubbed his upper chest, his hands skimming over the scratch marks one of the maids. They served as a reminder that while the women of the hawk kingdom sought his cock and toned body, they hated what he was—a falcon shifter. The scratches hadn't been made in the height of passion as a sign of a good time had by all, but rather made to spite him, to spit in his face as to what he was—a falcon shifter. Not a hawk shifter—his nemeses for the majority of his life. Sadly, the scratches paled in comparison to the scars he bore. They were recaps of times best not thought upon.

The kitchen maids from the other had been wild and wanted him for his body and his skilled cock but didn't want the stigma attached to him—enemy, falcon, outsider. The scratches the one had inflicted were all but healed over. The long soak he'd taken in the hot springs had helped, along with washing away their scents. He found it unpleasant, as he did a lot of the females from the region. They weren't his kind.

Glancing around the empty training yard, Lazar drew in a deep breath and let his wings emerge. There was the smallest of pinches in his lower back before his huge wings spanned out and around him. He flexed them, enjoying the feeling of being free. Too long he'd gone between flights. He launched into the air—the need to fly out his aggression was great. The wind whipped past him, lifting his hair and cooling his aching muscles. He closed his eyes a moment, savoring the feeling.

When he finally landed, it was with a grand view of the kingdom. He sat on his haunches, peering out and over the valley below. It was beautiful, as was most of the realm. The buildings were constructed in a way that didn't totally take from the landscape—unlike the human realm, where skyscrapers and pavement appeared to be all one could see for miles and miles.

Humans cared little about preserving the beauty around them. They seemed to want things taller, faster, quicker. Nothing was good enough for them, and one day, their hunger for more would be their downfall.

The Kingdom of the Hawks was impressive, spanning over most of the Northern Region of Accipitridae. Some of the homes within it had been built around trees. It wasn't unheard of to enter a villager's home to find a large trunk within and ample light streaming in from many an opening. His kind, the bird shifters, didn't like to feel captured or caged within their dwellings. They liked the feel of the sun on their faces and the smell of fresh air.

Not so long ago, he'd thought of the kingdom's occupants as the sworn enemy —the Buteo Regalis—the most hated of all the enemies of his kind.

The Falco Peregrinus.

He'd once been a proud member of his kind and a fierce warrior for the cause. It was a cause he'd been led to believe was just and true. He should have known better. Everything that had sprung forth from the mouth of the king of the falcons had been a lie, so why shouldn't the truth about the hawks be as well?

He'd been following the ramblings of a man hell-bent on power and ruling all the realm. Had Lazar stood his ground and fought for his birthright, the falcons wouldn't be feared by all and thought of as the enemy to nearly all the varying kingdoms within the bird-shifter realm—only managing to outdone by the vultures. No, Lazar would not have ruled with fear and lies. He would have ruled very, very differently.

He clenched his fists, silently swearing to exact revenge on those who had claimed what was rightfully his. Events and circumstances had left Lazar branded a traitor among his people.

Here, among the hawks, he was trusted by the king yet feared and looked down upon by many of the king's subjects. If they knew the truth of who he was, his actual birthright, they'd not only fear him. They'd see him on the end of a pike, rotting, for all to know what they did to those who crossed them.

Until that time came, he would continue to fight for their cause, fuck their women and drink his fair share of their mead. He'd never been able to pass up a good time. That trait was seen as a flaw by many, himself included.

Movement from the village below caught his eye. He tilted his head to watch as a warrior he'd seen at the castle often enough wandered into the darkened woods surrounding the village. He headed in the direction of a portal to the human realm. Curiosity got the better of Lazar, and he remained perched in place, wondering what would make a man act in such a manner, especially considering that King Kabril had yet to lift the bans on traveling between the realms. Gardelle was certainly a strict follower of Kabril's rules.

Gardelle was one of the few guards at the castle who spoke to Lazar without a touch of malice in his voice. Never did the man mention trips to the human realm, though. Lazar's love of visiting the human realm was well-known. So was his desire to break the rules. So far, Kabril had only made a few comments regarding the manner, mainly to warn him against being seen in flying form by humans.

It wasn't like the king had much credibility when it came to the old rule of no contact with humans, since his new wife, now queen to the hawks, was, in fact, human. So was Sachin's wife, Kabril's head advisor. Lazar chuckled as he thought about Paige's hold over the feared head of the guards.

Lazar caught sight of Gardelle through a tiny clearing in the canopy of the trees. When Gardelle shifted forms, allowing his wings to emerge, Lazar did the same. He backed into a recessed area as the warrior flew by heading straight for the portal to the human realm.

Waiting until the right moment, Lazar remained in place until the object of his curiosity passed before emerging from his hiding spot. He took to flight, soaring above the Tocallie Mountain peaks. Gardelle passed through one of the many portals nestled in the serene area, and so did Lazar, careful to keep a reasonable distance to avoid drawing suspicion.

Gardelle traveled far, and since the human realm had already fallen into darkness for the night, it was difficult to see exactly where the man was going without following closer. Lazar increased his speed, knowing that as a Falco Warrior, he possessed speed greater than that of any Hawk Warrior. He regained a visual on Gardelle, following close, assuming the man would do as many other warriors did when visiting the human realm—stop at the known whorehouses or seedy bars, as Lazar had once heard them called by a human.

All he knew was each time he needed his dick scratched, he simply flew to one of them. The women there always seemed more than willing to serve his needs, and none held what he was against him because they didn't know. To them, he was simply a man, not a shifter. Something that was far from the truth.