by M J Marstens
“And Khal’s name also reflects this. . . actually all our names do. But Khal’s last name, Al-Zahil, is derived from his divinity. Zahil literally means Saturn in Arabic and Al comes from the Arabic name meaning one God, as in Allah. It also spills into other religious factions, such as Hebrew, where Al is El, as in Elohim. Khal is the first father.”
“Khal’s your dad?!”
Again, he laughs at me. Glad I’m so damn amusing.
“No, we are more like brothers, I guess you could say. Remember, this is just how humans have rationalized us.”
I’m so eager to hear more, I’m practically bouncing up and down. I do not like mysteries. . . just tell me the ending, thank you.
“And the others?”
“What do you think?”
What is with these guys and making me work for shit? Just tell me. I’m lazy, dammit. Okay, let me think. . . astrology actually helps me understand language better and is directly linked to our everyday speech. In fact, you use these little paganisms every day. For example: Monday equals moon day, Sunday equals sun day (obviously, right), and Saturday equals Saturn day. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are based on Norse mythology, but correlate perfectly to their Greek/Roman counterparts, which can be seen in the French, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese days of the week.
So, Tuesday is martes in Spanish and is linked to Mars, Wednesday is miércoles and is linked to Mercury, Thursday is jueves and is linked to Jupiter and Friday is viernes and is linked to Venus. Bet you didn’t realize what an impious little heretic you really were, did you?
Sinner.
Not to mention how many times you have fantasized with me about Khal discipling us. . . you should probably go to confession soon. I won’t waste my time. I think I’ll bypass the confessor and go straight to the gods. *Exaggerated wink* This is where you remind me to focus.
Again.
Thank god (or do I thank them by name?) Kane cannot read minds. . . or can he? Yikes. I should ask him that later.
So, Mio’s real name is Ermio Mercoledi. Mercoledi is Wednesday in Italian and is associated with Mercury. I think of Mercury cross-culturally. In Greek mythology, he’s the messenger or Hermes. Pretty for sure Ermio is how you would say Hermes in Italian. I think of Nyam next. Soley means sun, but I’m unsure about his first name. I do not know enough Russian to riddle out the twins’ names meaning, and Caed and Arawn are lost on me. I tell Kane my thoughts.
“Good, lahela’iki. Nyam’s first name, Nyambe, comes from Western Africa, where he’s known as the sun god by that appellation. As for the twins, their last name is Blitznetsy, meaning Gemini in Russian. Their first name correlates to their planet. Uryn comes from the Russian uran, meaning Uranus. And Illu means illusion in Russian, denoting one of Neptune’s main characteristics. Arawn is the Welsh god of the underworld. Or Hades, as he’s commonly known.”
“Which translates to Pluto.”
“Exactly. And Caed’s name means warrior. And his planet is stated in his last name Marx. All pointing to Mars, or Aries, god of war.”
This is some fascinating stuff. I should have brought a notebook. . . although, I don’t know what I would have done with it when Kane made me fuck myself, so maybe it’s good I did not have one.
“Are there no women gods. . . ah, I guess, goddesses?”
And just like that, Kane shuts down. Everything becomes shuttered and his eyes blank.
“We should get back to the party.”
“Ok,” I say meekly, unsure of what to do with his rapid change in disposition. “Actually, I’m kind of tired, I think I’ll just go back to my room for the night.”
Kane nods and abruptly walks away in the opposite direction.
What the fuck just happened?
f
URANUS
Jupiter finally joins us again, reeking of sex, but not saying a word. Sullen is not his normal look. . . but he definitely looks ill-humored. How he can smell like that and be in such a pissy mood, I cannot understand.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” drawls Merc. “Have a good time with Zahra?”
“Fuck you. What are you waiting on me for?”
All of us wear varying looks of surprise. Jupiter is not the confrontational type. . . which means Zahra must have got to him. Saturn worried about this, but Jupiter is a big boy and can take care of himself.
“We have things to discuss. Important things, bigger than you getting off,” Mars gibes.
In an instant, Jupiter morphs into his true form- an eight-foot titan with pale green skin, swirling red, brown, and white eyes, and otherworldly strength. He cocks back his fist and levels Mars with a single blow. The god of war is now sprawled in the grass, unconscious. Luckily, we are a distance from the party for anyone to notice the hulking leviathan possessing our normally placid friend. Sunny leans down to check Mars’ pulse.
“Still alive!” He says in mock relief.
His comment seems to snap Jupiter back to reality and he changes back into his laid-back Hawaiian appearance. He looks troubled.
“What is wrong, bratik?” I ask.
We may not be blood brothers, like Neptune and I, but our physiology was derived from the same elemental energy of the universe. The blood of the cosmos runs through our veins and I love these men like family- we have been a unit since the beginning of time. They are my best friends and one’s pain is all our pain.
Jupiter lets out a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry. . . I’m angry at myself. It’s no excuse, though.”
“Damn right it’s no excuse, you oversized fucker,” Mars grates from the ground, awake again.
Jupiter leans over to help him up.
“Well, what the fuck happened?” he demands, once standing again.
“Later. I’ll tell you later. Again, I apologize.”
Mars slaps a hand on his back, “No worries, bro. Good to see you again. . . when was the last time you changed? Not since Lina, no?”
I’m unsure if this is a jab at Jupiter, but he flinches anyway. I’m surprised Mars is not settling this with his fists. He has seemed a lot calmer recently. . . odd. Saturn, of course, steps up to take control and get us back on track.
“We were waiting for you to discuss what Zahra had said about our Part of Fortune. I think she may have inadvertently given us the key to understanding how to undo our curse.”
“We agree it’s the key. . . but how it unlocks anything for us, we have no clue,” I add.
Jupiter is quiet while he mulls Zahra’s words in his head. I hope he can shed some light onto the topic, because all we have been able to do is hit dead ends.
“I do not know. . . modern day astrology is so different from when we first came to earth and the humans began worshipping us. As Zahra said, they began adding things, like the lots, with no actual astronomical reference point. So, unlike us or the Minor Gods, there is no Part of Fortune for us to physically locate and question. Let’s give Zahra a couple of days to see if she can give us any new insight.”
“A sound plan. I’ll update Zahra tomorrow and reschedule her flight.” Saturn says.
“Just make sure she thinks we used our powers to do it,” Sunny reminds.
“Who needs power when you have money?” Saturn rejoins.
“I know, but girls are turned on by power.”
“I think they like money more,” inserts Pluto.
“Sheilas love both. Throw a little money their way. . . display some power- not you, though, Jupiter. You keep your shit under wraps.”
“I said I was sorry. I meant it, too.”
“Yeah, well, you owe me one, man.”
A strange smile takes over Jupiter’s face.
“Actually, I have the perfect thing for you.”
Mars perks up, intrigued by the look on Jupiter’s face.
“What’s that? It better be good. . .”
“I need you to discipline Zahra for me.”
Merc lets out a whistle, while Mars shifts into Dom mode.
“What kind of punishment are we talkin’?”
I look to my twin. Neptune just rolls his eyes.
It always has been a competition to see who was more fucked up.
CHAPTER 32
ZAHRA
I wake Thursday morning to my phone dinging. I have a text from Khal. It says I have a return flight home scheduled for Saturday morning and to plan to be back here Monday night. In the meantime, I should spend my time analyzing the charts for balance and see if there is more similarity to everyone’s Part of Fortune. Well, at least this would keep me busy. . . and hopefully keep my mind off Kane. . . what went wrong last night? Everything seemed to be going well- until I asked about girl gods.
Goddesses. . . I kind of preferred girl gods.
(You know how I like alliterations.)
Was this some unspoken bone of contention for the lot of them and I had inadvertently offended Kane by bringing it up?
Maybe there were no girl gods. . . maybe they had to slum it with us human gals and wished for more divine consorts.
Or maybe the girl gods got sick of their shit and left.
If I were a betting person, I would say it was the latter. Those eight were enough to drive any sensible vagina insane, even a deific vagina.
(Sidebar tangent: What does a heavenly vagina look like? Like perfectly pink, shrouded in celestial clouds and plated in gold? The infamous Fountain of Youth, forever gushing?)
(Sidebar tangent to a sidebar tangent: It’s starting to feel really judgey on your end. Reign that shit in- we are restoring the ties of sisterhood and your censure has no place in this new system. Respect the sisterhood and the Trust Tree. And stop eyeballing my words like I’m batshit crazy- we both know you have wondered about girl god vaginas before this, thanks to Wonder Woman.)
Well, if I did learn a lesson last night, it was:
Use ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ with Kane and
Do not ask about girl gods.
Whatever. They might call themselves gods, but having a penis made them no different from any other man. They blew hot; they blew cold and, right now, they could go blow each other because I’m over trying to figure them out. I have work to do. I pull back out their charts and double down. I cross-reference everything like a pro (because I totally am one), and let me tell you, doing a synastry reading for seven people is no easy feat. A lot of details, folks.
And that is what sets good astrologists from the great: the ability to read the details, but still see the big picture. It’s easy to get caught up in the minutiae of a chart, until you’re so mired in one piece of the wheel that you forget it takes three hundred and sixty degrees to make a full circle. Not this all-star astrologist. I totally can see the forest for the trees. (Did I finally use an everyday colloquialism correctly? If not, fuck it. . . That’s the advice from my book Fuck It: This Is My Life- to just say ‘fuck it’ to what is not going your way. I love it and encourage you to use it, too.)
What I notice when I look at their afflicted moons is that the other planets seem to create a sort of ‘safety net’ around the planet being aspected. The other planets support the one being squared or opposed to the moon, but the moon is not offered similar backing in the charts. Interesting. If I were to take this literally, then I would read it as the guys help one another, but do not offer the moon the same defense. Who was the moon? Was it a real person, like the other eight. . . another planetary god?
Or was it a girl god?
The moon is always a feminine energy.
This is why Kane got so upset. A girl god fucked them. Obviously, if their afflicted moon is any indication.
Shit, I’m like Sherlock Holmes, Super Sleuth.
Actually, I’m probably more like Inspector Gadget, but let’s not quibble over semantics.
Okay- so how do I bring this up to the guys? I’m pondering this new development when I get an incoming call from Khal.
“Ms. Delsol, how are things coming?” I’m Ms. Delsol again.
“Swimmingly.”
“And have you found anything new?”
“Ah, yes, some minor things. . .”
“Such as?” But it comes across as ‘stop wasting my time and tell me’.
I tell him what I have found- minus the part about asking if the moon is a girl god. Khal wonders if I can email over their charts, highlighting this new information.
“Sure, give me until tomorrow morning though, please.”
“That’s fine.”
“Was there anything else, Mr. Al-Zahil?”
“Actually, yes. Firstly, don’t call me that unless you want to get fucked from behind. Secondly, how do you calculate balance in a chart, overall?”
I know he asked me something. . . but I’m still hung up on the first part of his sentence. . . I get a mental image of him bending me over his desk, while Caed holds me down, and Khal slams into me brutally from behind while the other six watch. . . I must really have a thing for voyeurism I never knew about.
“Zahra?” Khal purrs from the other end of the line.
Dick. He knows exactly where my mind went and what his words did to me.
“What was the question again?”
I hear him give a low snigger at my lack of attention.
Do I still want to fuck these guys or just kill them?
Tough decision.
“I asked, how do you calculate balance in a chart as a whole?”
“Oh, well, I look at the elements and the modalities: the twelve signs of the zodiac are either fire, earth, air, or water and either cardinal, fixed, or mutable. If there is one weaker or less present than the others, I see how the stronger ones bring a semblance of balance to the chart. Of course, I assess opposite houses and opposites in general, as opposites balance- not attract. Like attracts like. And lastly, I look to the individual degrees of the planets and houses to find correspondence and equilibrium.”
I hear him writing down what I have said.
“Thank you. I’ll be waiting for those charts. Good day.”
How can someone threaten to fuck me doggy style and say ‘good day’ in the same conversation?
Ridiculous man. . . god.
Man god. I like it. I’m coining it- that and girl god.
CHAPTER 33
ZAHRA
I’m debating about whether I want to send a new submission to Webster (for man god and girl god) when there is a knock at my door. I haven’t ordered any food, so maybe it’s housekeeping. I peep through the tiny eye-hole and see Kane’s girth taking up the entire door frame. Shit. . . do I let him in or pretend to be in the shower? Are things going to be weird after last night or has he come to clear the air?
“Open up, Zahra. I know you’re there. I can sense you.”
Well, fuck a duck.
I reluctantly open the door. Kane dips his head and comes in.
Caed follows.
Uh oh.
I say Mio and Nyam cause trouble. . . but Caed is trouble.
Today, he’s sporting a black eye (which somehow does not detract from his overall hotness) and a wicked smile. I want the record to show how suspicious I am of his presence. I knew I shouldn’t have opened the damn door.
“Uh, hi guys. Listen, I just spoke with Khal and he wants me to email him the charts with some highlighted information. It’s going to take me a bit to do that for seven charts, so is there any way we could talk later?” I say in a rush to get them back out the way they came.
“We didn’t come to talk, really,” Caed says in his lazy, cowboy manner.
Do I even bother to ask what they came for?
Nope, this is one of those times it would be best to keep my mouth shut. Caed does not seem fazed by my newfound silence and leisurely strolls around my room. He picks up a mesh lingerie set and fiddles with the fabric, while looking at me speculatively.
“Did you have fun with Kane last night?” He asks abruptly.
“Um. . . . . . . . yes?”
“Yes what? What did Ka
ne tell you about responding last night. You use ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’, correct?”
His voice is like steel.
“Yes, sir.” I quickly assert.
Caed nods his approval.
“Now, what is this I hear about you topping from the bottom and backtalking to Kane?”
Oh fuck. I’m in trouble. And here I thought I had gotten off scot-free. I try to think of something. . . but no plausible lie or excuse comes to mind. So again, I stick with silence. Caed sits himself in the desk chair and motions me forward. I walk over to him and in a smooth move I barely comprehend, he swings me over his lap until I’m face-down, butt-up, and he cracks a hand over my ass. Now, I have always fantasized about being spanked, but this shit hurts for real! My fantasy spankings are soft-handed. Caed acts like he’s out for blood. Of course, pervert that I am, I can feel my pussy pulse with desire as my ass throbs in pain.
“I asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to. I promise I won’t do it again.”
SMACK!
“That’s for lying. Don’t give me your shit about not meaning to. You knew damn well what you were doing, didn’t you?”
SMACK!
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Please-”
I cut off before I can start begging him. . . whether to stop spanking me or to keep going, I don’t know.
“Good. Now you’re going to fuck both our cocks with your mouth and we will tell you when we are going to come and you will keep your fucking mouth shut. Now, get on your knees, keep your hands behind your back and maybe, if you suck us off right, we will let you come later.”
Good grief- no wonder this man was god of war, he acted like a general assembling the troops. His whore troops. And I’m on the front lines.
“What are you waiting for,” he barks impatiently.
I quickly get down on my knees and clutch my hands together behind my back. Kane steps forward, pulling his glorious member out for me to suck. I have always felt head was a two part job, requiring both hands and mouth. Now I’m required to revamp my strategy. I’m forced to use my tongue extra. . . and more creatively, as well. I suction my mouth around Kane’s length and flick my tongue across the tip, before flattening it out and pressing down as hard I can. His growls shake his body and I almost chance another punishment to rake my nails down his thighs.