by RWK Clark
DeSai
Lucien’s Reign
by
R.W.K. Clark
Copyright © 2015, 2016 R.W.K. Clark
All rights reserved, www.rwkc.us
This is work of fiction, all names, characters, locales, and incidents are product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual people places or events is coincidental or fictionalized.
Published in the United States by Clarkinc.
Printed and distributed by
Amazon Digital Services LLC
Edition 1.2 Last Updated 12-19-2016
United States Copyright Office
#1-3449260847
International Standard Book Numbers
ISBN-10: 069272219X
ISBN-13: 978-0692722190
ASIN: B01GD7CWLI
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I dedicate this novel to my wonderful readers and for all the amazing people I’ve met and those I haven’t. To my family and loved ones, all your support will not be forgotten.
Thank you
Prologue
Cyril DeSai was a winemaker from the French region in the 16th century. He had a wife and two children, and he was one of the most esteemed businessmen in all of France.
One day, when Cyril went out to the fields he discovered the vineyards guard dogs had been torn apart, rows of his grapes had been violently destroyed and his family was brutally murdered. In his efforts he was bitten, in the night during his search, by a vampire.
For the next several centuries Cyril DeSai roamed the Earth. He tried to build a family, and he sought one to be his Queen. In eternal pain he would start a family, only to be discovered as a direct result of the sloppiness of his own ‘children’. He would be hunted, chased, and forced to take shelter in his cave in the side of a cliff on the oceans of Honduras. He ached each and every time from the loss of what he had begun, but Cyril knew that his survival was most important if he was ever to bring to fruition what his own instincts drove him to do.
Build a family.
Cyril came into his own finally, and the world became his, but now he discovered that his family, his children, needed a mother, and that as King he needed a Queen. He began to be driven to find her, and it was with relentless passion he went through women, seeking, searching, and hoping to find love with that one woman, who was nameless and faceless to him for so long.
But yes, he did find her. Rasia Engres came to him when he least expected it, when he was fully coming into all that was destined to be his, even if it was all a temporary gift. He found the perfect woman to mother his family and cement his kingdom. She was much more than he understood; she was more than a woman, unbeknownst to the King of the Vampires.
She was a witch, raised by the Powers, and destined to rule the world. She knew of her destiny: find a vampire, if they do exist, and take their gift of life immortal.
She devoted herself to learning all she could about this unknown, and undiscovered breed. She studied and sought. She obsessed and lost sleep, and in between, she killed to satisfy the evil inside of her. Yes, she was a witch, but she was perfect for the job which she had been chosen for. She would do so much more than find a vampire and take his life for her kind.
DeSai made a grave mistake, and he knew it.
His love, his queen, was not his at all. He looked into her eyes sadly, and for the first time since he discovered the bodies of his wife and children hundreds of years ago a single tear fell from his eye.
As he had looked at her, that tear falling, his dead heart began to pound harder, and in a split second she reached out and ripped his head from his body.
She had fully come into her power. Now it was her responsibility to see to it that the facts about her lover live on. She would not let him die on the floor of that basement office at Cliffside Wineries; she would keep his memory, and his love for her, alive.
Chapter 1
Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and trickled down her face, soaking into the pillow beneath her head. She writhed in pain for what seemed like minutes at a time, then she would relax, moaning and breathing heavily. Rasia had never experienced such an intense pain in her life; she thought she would surely die as a result of this child escaping her body.
Another wave of pain began to torment her slowly, creeping up on her body and perpetuating into unbearable agony. She squirmed violently, as if trying to get away from it, as if trying to escape it. Her back arched off of the mattress, and a desperate scream escaped her lips.
Two women, members of the family, were by her side. One, Agatha Cross, sat on the bed next to her, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth and stroking her arm with love. She made noises that were meant to be comforting, but in her tortured state all of this behavior only served to aggravate and infuriate her. Rasia jerked her arm, throwing Agatha’s hand from it as she growled, “Shut up!”
The other woman, Deborah Castle, stood at the foot of the bed in silence. She had been a nurse before her position became extinct in the world; now she served only to birth the children born of family members. It was a full time job in itself, and she used to love it. Now, standing at the feet of the Queen herself, she thought she may implore Rasia DeSai to allow her to pursue other avenues.
The wave of pain had passed, and Rasia had almost dozed off in her exhaustion before another swept her up. She began to feel the overwhelming desire to push this monster from her body, and she began to grunt and bear down in cooperation with the urge.
Finally, the forsaken child would arrive. Rasia had thought that perhaps the passage of time during her pregnancy would provide her with some feeling for the child that resembled love, but it never happened. She had spent the last nine months dreading this birth, and now she found herself dreading the child’s life.
“She is ready,” Deborah told Agatha quietly. She took a towel from a stack on a small folding table which had been placed next to her post, then she got down on her knees at the foot of the bed and placed her hands flat on the soles of Rasia’s perfect feet.
“Bear down… push!” she told her Queen.
Rasia’s face crumpled in pain, and she began to push with all of her might, using Deborah’s hands, and great stature, for leverage. She pushed as much as she could, but then collapsed back onto her pillow, crying and gasping for breath. The urge came again, taking over her thoughts and controlling her entire being.
Deborah spoke again. “Again, my Queen.”
Rasia’s head and shoulders left her pillow as her feet began to push violently against Deborah’s hands once again. Her pained groan as she pushed was filled with an unworldly growl; how she wanted this beast out of her body. He had done nothing but grieve her since his conception.
The baby’s head crowned, and a pleased smile crossed Deborah’s face. “His head. I see it now!”
Agatha held Rasia’s hand in both of hers, and as Rasia clenched it painfully the woman smiled a toothy grin. Their new king would soon arrive. Their new Master was almost here!
When Rasia heard that his head was visible she got a second wind. She held Agatha’s hand in her crushing grip, grabbing a handful of bedding in her other hand. Her head and shoulders once again left the bed and she looked Deborah in the eyes, her own emerald eyes on fire with both pain and determination.
“I have had enough of this,” she growled. “Let’s get this over with.”
With that, Rasia bore down with all of her strength. The boy’s head came immediately, and Deborah attempted to clear his throat, thinking that Rasia would breathe, but she did not. Instead, her pushing gained even more momentum, and in seconds the child’s s
houlders were out, and he shot from Rasia’s body like a bullet from a gun.
She looked at the clock on her nightstand on the right, its numerals glowing red: it was exactly twelve midnight.
Now Rasia collapsed, laughing almost hysterically with relief. Agatha busied herself with wiping sweat from her Queen’s head and shoulders while Deborah set about finishing the job before her. The placenta would be kept, for the Queen would offer it to the Powers. After she had obtained it she contained it according to Rasia’s instructions, then wrapped the child, bloody and covered with water and mucus, in a flannel. She stood and gazed at him as he screamed. His hair was as black as the night; he was quite beautiful.
She walked around to the side of the bed and held the swaddled boy out to his mother. “Your son, my Queen,” she began.
“Take him!” Rasia spat. “I will get to him when I am ready.” Her eyes remained closed and her face calm, but her voice reeked of hatred.
Deborah’s eyes grew wide, but she kept her voice steady. “He will need to eat…”
Now Rasia’s eyes opened and she looked at the nurse angrily. “Then do what has to be done. Put him at my breast if you must, but let me be,” she told her. “And don’t leave my side. When he is finished take him away.”
Deborah obeyed, placing the boy at his mother’s breast to feed, laying him on a pillow for support. He rooted around for her nipple, his eyes closed, his perfect little arms and legs flailing in the linen. He found it and latched on quickly, sucking for what appeared to be dear life. Once he settled, Deborah began to clean him off with a warm, wet facecloth while Agatha plumped pillows and made the new mother more comfortable.
Rasia settled in and finally opened her eyes as Agatha began to gently brush her long red tresses. She smiled slightly at the woman in thanks, an unusual gesture for their Queen. Then she turned her attention to Deborah. “You have done well.”
After what seemed like an eternity she looked down at her son. A look of disgust crossed her face; it was enough to surprise her servants, but they kept it to themselves. Rasia continued to stare at him; so this was the creature that would take her throne. She hated him instantly. He looked like his father, whom Rasia missed desperately, but he was born to take away the power she had gained through his father’s death, and that made her sick to her stomach. All she had plotted and schemed for, and finally come into, would eventually be handed to this… child. She glanced down at his face for a moment; his eyes were not the eyes of a newborn. He looked at her as if he knew her and all that was inside of her.
But she must protect him, she knew. She must teach him and nurture him, for this was the will of the Powers. She had no choice in the matter, and to defy their will would mean only certain death for her. He was chosen for this; it was his sole purpose. She had served most of hers, and now she would spend her life completing it by seeing him to the throne.
He was a monster.
After a short time the boy began to squirm; he was finished. Deborah immediately took him into the bathroom to clean him up better and get him out of his mother’s sight. She showed no true affection for the child, and Deborah wanted him to be away from her, just as her Queen wished. Rasia turned to Agatha, her smile gone.
“You can go now,” she said quietly. “You will be rewarded and recognized for your services.” With that, Agatha left the room, as silent as a ghost.
Rasia relaxed and stared at the ceiling, resigning herself to her future. She would eventually become a slave to this child that was what it boiled down to. She thought of her late husband Cyril, he would have been ecstatic in this moment. Alone, she was destined to hate what awaited her because every intention of her heart had been evil and selfish.
How she wished he were with her now. When she thought back to the night they spent together in Cyril’s office, the night this boy was conceived, she experienced a grief so deep that she thought she may die from it. How could she have taken the life of the only man, the only person, she had ever related to in her life? Even as she thought about the newborn her stomach became sick with her thoughts.
The bathroom door opened and Deborah appeared with a clean bundle in her arms, swaddled in black. “I will take him out, Queen, but I will need to know what name you have given him. The family will want to know, for they will celebrate his arrival this very night.”
Rasia looked the nurse over. “Let me see the boy again.”
Deborah brought him to his mother. Rasia did not make any attempt to take him from the woman; there would be plenty of time for that later. The nurse moved his swaddling away from his face and leaned down. Rasia looked at him closely.
Even in his brand new state he was the spitting image of his father. His hair was as black as a raven’s feathers, and his tiny nose was a reflection of Cyril’s directly. Suddenly the newborn opened his eyes and looked directly at her. There was no question in her mind. It did not matter that he was less than thirty minutes old; the child seemed to know what was going on.
His eyes were bright green, just as Rasia’s were, and for a fraction of a second she felt a wave of love. “Take him to the nursery and fetch his nanny. Let her know I will be with them when I have cleaned up and rested a bit.”
The nurse straightened herself out and covered the boy’s face once again, preparing to leave the room. She was just preparing to close the door behind her when Rasia spoke.
“Deborah,” she began.
The nurse stopped in her tracks. “Yes, Queen?”
“His name is Lucien. Lucien Cerebus DeSai,” she told her. “Now go.”
Deborah bowed her head and closed the door behind her, leaving Rasia DeSai to come to terms with her destiny.
Chapter 2
The wheels of the buggy rolled smoothly over the concrete walkway in the private courtyard of the White House. The sun was shining brightly, its rays reflecting off the blue waters in the pond nearby, and they dazzled off the drops of dew which covered the grass.
It was indeed a beautiful morning. Rasia loved her early walks with little Lucien; in reality she considered them the best part of their relationship. He was always his most quiet during these times, taking in all that was around him. For a child of twenty months he was very intelligent and alert. Sometimes it seemed as though he was wise beyond his years, and it frightened her.
She had taken her fear to the Powers many, many times. Deep inside she longed for them to allow her to give the boy to one of her minions to raise, but the Powers had been adamant in their denial. She would raise the boy; it was her job alone, and no other would be permitted to do it.
They arrived at a gazebo at the end of the courtyard; this was her preferred place to be. She put the brakes on the buggy and freed Lucien from his restraints so he could run and play. As she fumbled with the clasps he gazed at her, looking directly into her eyes. She returned his look uncomfortably; she always felt as though he were watching her and assessing her actions. Yes, this made her squirm emotionally, but it was the least of her concerns.
As of late she had begun to… smell his blood, and it caused her great torment. When she caught its scent it was as if she were a starving derelict who was visiting a buffet, but she was not allowed to eat. It was sheer torture, and she had to get far from him when this happened. To harm the boy would mean death. Other times she looked at him and what would come over her could be compared only to a mother’s love. She would feel so much affection, and a sense of obligation, that she felt she would be overwhelmed by the emotions.
This is what she felt at this moment as she stood him on his feet on the ground. “Go, child! Enjoy the day!” She smiled at him, and he smirked at her in return before turning and running off like a shot, giggling like crazy. She found her smile grew at his child-like behavior. She may as well try to enjoy the little things.
Rasia took her place inside the gazebo and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh morning air. It was cool and crisp, and it seemed to clear the fog from her mind, enabling her t
o think more clearly. It was priceless to her.
Lucien had been an easy child so far. While he would be two soon, he always seemed much older than he was. He was always deep in thought, and even though he could already speak in clear sentences, he rarely spoke to her. She knew this made her feel unloved and unwanted by him, but in all reality she neither truly loved nor wanted him either. She was simply going through the motions.
“Mama…” Rasia’s eyes snapped open and she turned to the sound of her son’s voice.
“Yes, Lucien?”
He held her eyes. “I heard noises in your room last night.”
Rasia’s heart began to pound, but she kept herself calm. “You were having a dream, Lucien. Remember when we talked about dreams?” Rasia stated.
He kicked his toe against the side of the gazebo while he looked at her; he was thinking on what she said. Suddenly the tiny boy smirked slightly and shook his head, holding her gaze all the while.
“No, I was awake,” he said, his wicked grin spreading before he then ran off to play once again.
Rasia took a deep breath as she realized she was shaking. He heard noises, indeed! She looked out over the horizon. What if he had? The look on his face told her he knew she was lying. Yes, he had heard noises.
About two months after Lucien’s birth Rasia began to feel the strong pull of sexual lust once again. It had lessened as her pregnancy had come closer to term, and it disappeared altogether for a time. But when the boy was two months old it returned full force, and it was constantly unbearable. She could not satisfy it with any lover, and she had taken many since its return, both men and women.
Now she turned her attention back to the boy. How it angered her that his attitude with her was so intimidating, condescending, and aloof! She did not know how to deal with it. Well, now she knew she would have to be much more careful when it came to her activities after he retired. She would speak to her assistant about her options, as her activities were necessary to her well-being. She would not compromise on this, not for anyone, especially the twenty-month old Lucien.