Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (29 page)

The mogul relished his new source of funding.

THE END

Author bio:
S.A. Garcia can never decide between red or white.

Nor can she decide between creating visual art or word art. Ten years

of running B-Side, an indie music magazine, provides her with plenty

of wild characters and curious situations for fiction.

When traveling to interview bands, writing fiction percolated in

the background, and writing male romantic fiction ruled. Reading

Gordon Merrick at age nineteen sounded a wake-up call. Thirty years

of male/male romance hides in notebooks and on the computer. Now

it’s time to release the stories into the free air.

In early 2011 Dreamspinner Press released the romantic fantasy

“Canes and Scales.” “To Save A Shining Soul”, a dark comedy about

redemption and rebirth, was released in June 2011. “Baron’s Last

Hunt” is slated for July 2011. “Divine Devine’s Love Song” will arrive

in November 2011. Silver Publishing will release “Temptation of the

Incubus” in October 2011.

S.A. also writes M/F romance and is in the process of submitting

those novels to publishers. In truth writing HEA romances makes her

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 165

happy so she’s not concerned with what gender snuggles under the

covers or rolls across tables and floors.

About all S.A. is a slave to words. She hopes those words connect

to readers.

Wait, hey, breaking through the fourth wall: what more can I tell

you? I’m silly, passionate and a pain in the ass. It’s all true.

Also from S.A. Garica

To Save A Shining Soul (Contemporary Fantasy at Dreamspinner)

Canes and Scales (Available At Dreamspinner)

The Handsome Prince Anthology

Blood Sacraments Anthology

Visit S.A. Garcia on:

Facebook Goodreads

Oscar’s Bruised Petals: S.A. Garcia’s Rumbles and Grumbles

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 166

S.A. Garcia – A CURE FOR THE KING’S LUST (Wizards/Warriors)

Genre:
fantasy

Tags:
warriors, wizards, lust, sex, doubt, hurt-

Dear Author,

comfort, deception, love

Who is this sexy man? And

Words:
26,000

why is that equally hot guy

behind him (to the left when

A CURE FOR THE KING’S

facing the pic) staring holes

through him? Are they

LUST

lovers? Are they gonna be?

by S.A. Garcia

Tell me EVERYTHING!

The stone passage leading toward the heat-

[PHOTO: A brooding

depiction of armor clad

shimmered practice yard offered memories.

ancient warriors going into

Long before his grim exile, the young Gustav

battle.]

had scampered back and forth along this path,

Sincerely,

excited to see the palace guard recruits try to

Cherie

impress the trainers.

Damn, long ago indeed. His brief life as

prince seemed like another lifetime, an

existence experienced by boy unscathed by

exquisite treachery. The man who walked here

now understood treachery’s vile facets, suffered

from them, and ultimately defeated them.

The king acknowledged the respectful

salutes aimed his way. Even after eighteen

years on blood-tainted Storm throne, the fussy

attention and demonstrations of reverence still

discomforted him. He was a human king, not an

Iron God. He remembered his gruff father

expressing a similar distaste for pomp. Their

royal line emerged from barbarians and great

warriors, not sly courtiers or slick-tongued

politicians, although Gustav practiced slick-

tongued magic during negotiations with the

upstart city-states chaffing under his rule.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 167

Gustav mounted the observation platform’s weathered wooden

stairs. The glaring sun swept over the uncovered wooden expanse.

Intense heat shimmers danced and cavorted, determined to conquer

his watchful stare. Gustav understood never argue with the sun’s hot

wrath; the rays owned a cunning way of making a body collapse. He

held up his right hand to shield his eyes and studied the swarthy men

engaged in swordplay. The impressive display pleased his warrior

blood.

Captain Ivar noticed him. He waved a casual salute and mounted

the stairs to the platform. Ivar’s smile etched wrinkles into profound

ravines. “Sire, welcome to another guard winnowing. Beastly hot

today, eh? Luckily these Curamian lads understand heat. After much

culling, I plan to keep these ten lads.”

Gustav’s auburn eyebrows raised in curious interest. “Curamia? I

hate sounding biased, but the thought of recent enemies guarding my

back is unnerving.”

Ivar shrugged and winked. “I understand, Sire, but many

Curamians come to serve you. Most recruits act too undisciplined and

wild to secure palace guard status, but if they merge into the lower

city ranks, they own the chance to advance and join the Brothers.

There’s great potential in this lot… especially one in particular. Look

to the left, below the statue of Rotan; see the muscular youth with the

long, dark hair? He understands his blade like a dear lover. The brat

displays saucy attitude, but the rebellious ones often make the best

guards.”

As he listened, Gustav stared down into the sand and sweat

choked ring. His gaze focused on the indicated fighter. Once he

assessed the powerful male lines, his lips crooked toward the fierce

sun. My, my, his eternally concerned advisor would pitch a major fit.

The king take a young Curamian savage as a lover? What a delicious

fuss! Gustav’s smile widened. He had never enjoyed a wildcat in his

bed. This compact, muscular man might provide a pleasant

distraction.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 168

Gustav’s lust controlled his mouth. “Ivar, call a break. I wish to

examine these men.”

“Of course, Sire. They’ll welcome rest.” Ivar called out and

clapped his hands. An iron bell signaled the break. Sighs of weary

relief floated up from the ring as the recruits fetched water from the

corner cistern. Gustav descended to the heat-shimmered ring’s outer

edge and regarded the panting men.

Ivar barked out a warning. “Listen up, you grunts, the King of

Astridia is among us! Straighten up and offer your respect!”

The men turned and assumed awkward positions of fawning

acknowledgment. Their attempt at ordered conduct looked pathetic,

but at least they tried. Gustav saluted them and stepped forward into

the blazing sun. “Hail, loyal men of Curamia. You are welcome in

Astridia. I suppose our summer heat is mild to you.”

Smiles and nods broke out among the sweaty men. The object of

Gustav’s attention neither smiled or nodded. He stared at Gustav, an

unreadable expression infecting his black eyes. This creature looked

fascinating. Intriguingly defiant attitude hovered beneath his stare.

“You seek to become city guards, eh? I warn you achieving the

honor is difficult. You must possess flawless swordsmanship,

weapons expertise, steely nerves, and above all superb discipline. If

you show the proper dedication, palace guard status is within your

reach. I expect nothing less than complete loyalty. Can you

courageous Curamians meet the challenge?”

A firm, “Aye, Sire,” welled from ten throats.

“Good, positive attitude is a fine start.” Gustav turned back to

Ivar. “Ivar, I wish to exercise. Time for my battle sword.”

“Yes, Sire.” Ivar snapped his weathered fingers at a barrel-chested

guard who hastened away and returned with a large, capable-looking

sword.

Gustav accepted the blade. He swirled the heavy length a few

times. He hadn’t stepped into the practice yard in a week; what a sad

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 169

state of affairs. Recent arguments with the Tovanian delegation

regarding Reglard’s sword rattling ruined his days. No wonder he felt

twitchy. Time to rectify the sick error.

He rested his sword against his muscled thigh and stripped off his

maroon tunic. Over the years, his queen had convinced him not to

walk around bare-chested like his fellow warriors. She insisted Gustav

needed to embrace decorum. Instead of fighting the silly battle, he

bowed to her wishes. Her advances in hauling the warrior’s court into

a civililized haven provoked a few grumbles among his rougher

advisors. If they had their way, court would be a haven for drinking,

wenching and impromptu sword fights over the largest drumstick.

He appreciated Aglaia’s efforts. He found nothing wrong with a

throne room smelling of lilies and incense. As long as his wife

contented herself with transforming the palace and the city’s

neglected gardens, Gustav remained silence. If she ever turned her

ambitions toward ruling the realm, he’d break his silence. Happily

Aglaia’s wise nature guaranteed his silence. During the battle to

regain his family’s throne, she had experienced enough intrigue and

bloodshed to last her a hundred lifetimes.

Guards fastened a stout leather practice jerkin around his chest.

Gustav reached up and twined a few battle braids into his long hair to

control the flow. These men of Curamia loved decorating their hair;

their long manes sported tiny cowry shells, bright copper wire, and

colorful glass beads.

Beads enhanced his prey’s hair but no ceremonial tattoos, ritual

scarings, or whiskers marred the high-cheek boned face. One lone scar

rippled across his noble nose. What a thrilling face. Something lethal

lurked behind the black eyes. Although Gustav judged the man close

to twenty, callow youth had long departed his soul.

He finished limbering up his arm. Gustav cradled his sword

handle in his palm and stepped forward. He examined each man in

feigned interest. Why bother looking? The King already accepted

whom he challenged.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 170

He paused before the dark-skinned man. The haughty black stare

refused to offer respect. Reaching out his sword Gustav tapped the

flashing weight against shining metal. “What a fine blade. How does a

young warrior possess such an esteemed-looking blade?”

The man’s toned body stiffened in anger. Insult transformed his

face into stormy challenge. “Sire, do you believe I procured this blade

by misadventure?”

A prickly one. Curious. Gustav soothingly shook his head. His

stare locked to his prey’s. “Not at all. Is the blade a precious family

heirloom?”

The younger man nodded in cautious pride. “Aye, the blade was

my grandfather’s.”

“Was your grandfather a warrior?”

A bleak shadow fell across the man’s features. “Yes, my

grandfather was a mighty warrior.”

Gustav wondered what he truly meant. The man acted like each