Bloodline

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The King of Atlantis was a dick.

Not in the same way everyone at the compound was. At least he wasn't tripping me, pulling my hair, trying to kill me in training exercises, but fucking hell, he was a dick in every other way possible. He didn't like to take his time doing anything. His long legs carried the prick so fast I had to speed walk to keep up with him. He walked like he owned the whole damn place-- and okay, so he kind of did because he was the king, but he could learn a little humility.

Upon leaving the house, the guy was glued to me like flies on shit. He led me from the house to the military barracks, just as Akin had ordered.

So perhaps there was one thing he didn't lord over.

The military barracks were nothing like the compound. It wasn't high-tech or sterile in the same way. It was certainly clean, but instead of being white on white, the floors were a glossy white gold veined marble and the walls a soft gray with wood accents, so as not to deter from the hundreds of awards and photos and scrolls displayed on the walls. Photos of military personnel, the king himself a couple times, high ranking officials, the gods and goddesses, and the scrolls were ancient, from pre-Hannibal era shit.

The place didn't smell sterile either, like cleaning supplies. It smelled like coconut and shea butter. There was chatter from everywhere as soldiers and ranked officials walked up and down the halls, all of them pausing to bow their heads to the King as we passed by.

I supposed that was one thing about the King I liked. He didn't stick his nose in the air and stop and make them flat out bow on their knees. He inclined his head respectfully in return and continued on his merry way.

His merry way to make my life living hell, that is.

We entered through a pair of wooden double doors to a huge gymnasium set up with all sorts of equipment and even a basketball court on one end where a couple of huge guys were destroying each other at the game. In the middle were a couple of rings where there appeared to be people training in hand-to-hand. I was mystified by the spectacle, not that I had much time to appreciate it because the King was on the move again and I was forced to scurry to keep up with him as he went to the other side of the gym where a few offices sat lined up.

The King entered one, not knocking for a second.

In the office was the typical chair and desk and computer combo, with several bookshelves overloaded with books. There were photos on the desk, though, that kind of held me still for a moment.

A male with dark curly hair appeared in most of the photos, his dark eyes hollow in some, bright in others. He looked haunted somehow. He was tall and muscular, but not nearly as big as the King himself. And oddly, there was a similarity between the man and the King that surprised me. The same nose shape, same eyes, and forehead. In some of the photos he was holding a little dark-skinned girl with a head of riotous curls, a big toothy smile on her face, her green eyes lit up.

Another male appeared in a couple of the photos as well. He was on the shorter side with pitch black hair that was spiked up, save for his bangs that fell across his face, over a pair of eerie swirling silver eyes. He was always dressed in something crazy and wild, all leather and chains and splatters of paint.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" A voice asked. I turned to see the first male from the pictures. He was wearing a military uniform with his hair swept back from his face, a box of papers under his arm as he came in.

"You weren't even in here," the King said. Something about his tone changed. He was friendly with this male. He liked this male.

"I could've been," the other male replied, then paused to stare at me, "Whoa. That's kind of... eerie. Shit, he looks like a mini you."