The Art of Breaking Prologue

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: dubious consent, male/male sexual practices.

A man, who kills once for whatever reason, usually finds it much easier to kill a second time if he feels threatened.

Prologue

The news he received from an informant was very good indeed. Not only did he have a location, he now knows exactly where his quarry lives. He wasn't surprised when the ringing of his phone broke into his thoughts a few moments later.
            “Good evening,” his baritone deep and gruff. 

“You seem to be in good spirits.”
            “I have word as to where I would find my...the whereabouts of an old friend.”
            “That’s good news for sure. I was calling to see if you were coming to the club tonight,” the voice on the other end almost pleaded. 
            He could and he had in under confidential advisement that the same man he sought out would be attending this evening. At least, the visit would not be wasted. “I just might take you up on the offer.”
            “There seems to be an influx of submissives seeking Masters at the clubs these days. Ripe pickings, old friend. Nothing catastrophic that would justify it but all the better for you and Masters still seeking one.”
            “Yes, I couldn’t agree with you more.” He nodded in agreement. With all the subs and Masters in one concentrated spot, his query was sure to be at hand.
            “Then we’ll see each other later this evening.”
            He nodded as he hung up the phone. The thought of his quarry brought up painful memories from months earlier.   

 

Months earlier…

It was his sub’s move. They had been playing a game of chess for hours and his lover had yet to surrender. The Master watched his sub. Tomorrow would be his sub’s last job assignment before he had a couple weeks to themselves and before the collaring ceremony that would mark his sub as his. Keeping his mind off the dangerous assignment and on their future was his main goal for tonight.
            “I don’t know why I even need to learn this game when I could be pleasuring you in other ways, Master. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” His sub lamented, picking up the board he threw it against the wall, shattering the marble board in pieces. “I DON’T SEE THE POINT OF THIS!!” He screamed at the Master. “Why do I have to wait for you to claim me?”
            “What is it you want me to do, my love?” He asked his sub, but he was already sure of the decision. “Preparations need to be made. We’ve been over this already. You know how much I love you and want you to be mine. Now stop acting like an insolent child.”
            “I know, but I want to be collared now. I want to leave tomorrow knowing...” The young man turned to his master, “I already belong to you, Master, but I want more.”
            The Master looked at him. Normally he would have punished his sub for the outburst, but being already as nervous as he was in leaving to some unknown destination, he wanted only to calm and soothe the younger man’s anxieties.  Instead, motioned to their chairs.

“Sit down, my love, and let me explain something to you.” He gave his sub an account of what it entailed to be collared, but he could see that it only served to solidify his submissive’s resolve.
            That was several months ago.

Even in his arms his lover had slept restlessly the night before his departure and was asking constantly when and where the ceremony would be held. He could see that his boy wanted this just as much as he had.

The following day he saw his boy off. He sent his sub, his equal, the love of his life off into unknown territories to fulfill his obligations to his government and met his death doing what he was trained to do. Little did he know that, that would have been the last time he held his boy, his heart against the warmth of his body, in his arms.

He still blames himself for his boy’s death, but he also vowed to seek revenge.
            Now that he knows where the man responsible is, it is time to turn the tables.