Rider King ✓

17

There's water in my tent from when I showered in the tub earlier. It's cold, but I rub my skin so furiously that it feels like I'm being boiled alive. I wash the mud from my hair, scrub Dramon's touch from my body, rub the taste of Rexon's lips from my mouth.

Those two males have gotten under my skin. Dramon in my cunt, and Rexon in my heart. I should have known better than to marry Dramon, and I should have known better than to throw myself at Rexon out of spite.

My life has spiralled to a mess. I miss the simple days when I was a curious teenager living in the Human Colonies and spent too much time looking over the walls, even when my mother told me it was dangerous. She tried to keep me entertained with the vague stories passed down from grandmother— my very name, Venus, being a fragment of a memory. It wasn't enough, though. I didn't want to hear her tales. I wanted to make my own. So I left.

I miss that freedom, youth, passion, and confidence; That vitality that I hadn't realized was a drug.

When I'm clean, I lay down and try to sleep. I don't get far. My mind lingers on Dramon. How did he get so deep into the Clan when it's heavily patrolled? Even if his beast flew him past the border, its wingspan is so wide that it's easily seen.

Did he come alone? If he brought company, then I'll have to keep the promise I made to Rexon. I won't let Clans go to war over me when we have plenty of other enemies to worry about.

I sigh. None of this makes sense. I don't get Dramon's obsession. Maybe he doesn't want his reputation to be ruined, or maybe this has to do with a toxic need to keep me from other men.

I close my eyes. After many hours, I fall asleep with the feeling of fingers dipping into my hips and lips against mine.

—

"Venus."

I think I'm dreaming at first, but then the same voice calls for me again.

I sit up and feel my sore muscles protest. There's a silhouette printed on the entrance flap of my tent. I might have not recognized the voice in me sleepiness, but I recognize that figure.

I stand up and use my cane to go outside. Rexon is there. Now that it's morning, I can see just how much damage Dramon inflicted. His lip is busted, and a thick cut runs up his jawline. His bicep is wrapped, and only the Fates know what other damage is under his vest.

Dramon must be in a similar condition.

He dips his beaten face in greeting. "Winds, Rider Queen."

I don't know why he still calls me that.

"Rexon," I sigh. "About last night—"

"Do not worry about that."

But I do.

"Dramon," Rexon frowns. "He is still here. He took down and bound the men I had on the southern border."

"Is he alone?"

"No. He brought half of his Clan. Most are young warriors. He is ready to fight."

I rub my forehead. "I won't let him invade. I'd rather go with him than—"

"You're not going anywhere against your will," Rexon interjects with a scowl.

"That is sweet of you," I sigh. "But it is my choice."

"I—"

"Your Clan has done enough for me. I'll deal with Dramon. Just... just take care of yourself, and Tej. The old man is lonely although he hides it."

"I will fight for you. You just have to say it."

My face cracks with pain, because I know Rexon would fight for me. Why couldn't it have been him? Why didn't King Centres order me to marry this King?

"I know, but I can't. As long as I have at least one working leg, I have to fight for myself."

"If you won't let me go to him, let him sit and wait. Perhaps his selfishness will guide him elsewhere."

I don't think Dramon will get tired of waiting anytime soon. I could sense the desperation in his grip, in his voice. He will keep his word and keep coming until I cave. I know this.

I nod at Rexon. I've already denied him enough.

"If he steps into the Clan territory tonight—"

"It is my duty to take care of invaders. You can't stop me from fighting him again."

"But—" I interject. "Look at what you did to each other. You can't keep fighting!"

He fists his hands until I hear his knuckles crack. "It is within my right, and I will exercise it. You may not be my female, but this is my territory."

"And if I try to stop you?"

I know the laws as well as he does. I have no authority over Rexon. He can rain violence on any invader, and no one in the Clan would be able to tell him otherwise.

His eyes softened as he answered, "then I will have to keep you away." He doesn't want to keep me locked away with guards, but he will. Nothing will keep him from Dramon.

"Rexon," I take a step forward. "Please. It's my final wish. I don't want there to be any more useless violence."

"If he stays off my land, there will be none."

"But you know that he won't! He'll keep coming. Please. I don't want this." I hate pleading. But here I am, trying to keep both of these men alive.

"I can give you anything but that." Rexon turns and leaves. I can only stare at his back in defeat.

That day, I don't go work with Taj. I'm too busy pacing in my tent, dreading the night.

Every night I wait, the men will clash. But if I go to Dramon today, then he wins.

I don't want either of the scenarios. Should I choose the lesser evil, or just wait for Dramon to give up, if ever?

The sun starts to dip, and I've yet to choose an option. The only thing I know is that I don't want more brutality. Although two guards follow me, I go to the pond to plead with Rexon some more.

I find Dramon standing across the muddy water. He's bloody everywhere. I can see a slash on his shoulder from where the lasso hit, and I can only imagine the rest of his back. His eyes are set on me— not on the dried blood on his side or the infection-prone cut on his side. He's hunched over a bit. From pain? From the preparation to launch forward and grab me?

I don't understand why no one has tended to his wounds yet, but he looks at me like he's the medicine he needs.

He takes a step forward, and his bare foot dips into the pond. He wears nothing but his pants and that expression on his face that makes me feel naked.

I hear footsteps come from behind me. Rexon sprints past me, and the fight begins just like that. There's no warning or warm-up. No kindness from the hardened men.

"Wait!" I yell over the shoulders of the guards that keep me in place.

Dramon and Rexon fight bare-handed. No knives, lassos, or swords. Only testosterone. They dodge and hit, neither getting the upper hand, until they both lose to exhaustion.