Rebirth

by H. P. Mallory

  I felt a fire building inside me, climbing to a crescendo. The desire for release weakened me and I began to writhe across the table, pushing priceless glassware onto the stones below where they shattered.

  Was I playing up my desire a bit? Absolutely! After all, I wanted Alaire to see what he was missing. I needed him to understand that I, too, could play mind games. And he needed to realize that if I were not happy, neither could he be.

  His narrowing eyes and tightening jaw told me everything I wanted to hear.

  But really, this situation was his own fault. When he first found me after I took over this body, his desire for me was all-consuming. He would take me repeatedly, anytime and anywhere (including this very table, truth be told). His lust seemed unquenchable. However, over the last few weeks, he was bedding me on fewer and fewer occasions. It was enough to make me wonder if he were quenching his interests elsewhere.

  Saxon continued to sing his silent song against my hard little mound, the pleasure so intense that I finally closed my eyes. Part of me wanted to scream but I didn’t want to upset Alaire too much. It was one thing to make a man jealous, and another to make him get rid of you altogether.

  Saxon’s head moved with slight bobbing motions as his tongue lapped at me, each caress bringing me closer to unbridled release. A scraping sound brought me back from the brink. I opened my eyes and focused on the empty chair where Alaire was sitting. A scream, but more importantly, the ceasing of cunnilingus between my legs forced me to sit up at once.

  Alaire had Saxon’s head between his hands. Saxon grappled and struggled as much as his strength would allow but Alaire was far and away the stronger of the two. My lover’s fingers hovered over Saxon’s eye sockets.

  “Lily is mine, you sniveling, little toad,” Alaire spat between his gritted teeth, his thumbs closing over Saxon’s teary eyes. “You have no right to her innocence. NONE!”

  Alaire used her name. Alaire dared to call me by… her… name! A fury so palpable, I could feel it heating up my skin, began to wind through me as the entire room became tinged in red.

  “Please, Mistress!” Saxon pleaded, reaching out towards me. I ignored him and his pathetic begging. All I could focus on was the name Alaire used, the one name that should have been nothing but a distant memory by now.

  I felt a finger grazing my leg as I watched Alaire push his thumbs into Saxon’s skull, making him jerk back. The piercing scream that left the traitor Retriever’s gaping mouth wasn’t even human. It sent another cold chill down my back but I still could not find any tenderness for him. Saxon flailed and scratched at Alaire’s hands as they crushed into him. He kicked out in a weak attempt to get away but the current Master of the Underground City’s grip held true.

  “Just shut up and die!” Alaire screamed at him. A squelching noise followed by a crunch cut off Saxon’s urgent screams. The fight went out of his body as his arms dangled like a hanged man swaying from a tree limb. My hand moved to my open mouth and my legs writhed and twisted repeatedly.

  I had never been so aroused in my lengthy existence. Blood and clear brain fluid leaked over Alaire’s hands as he continued to squeeze Saxon’s head. I could hear his bones and teeth cracking. By all the heavens and hells, I needed Alaire inside me now.

  “Enough,” I said meekly as I waved away his histrionics with an unconcerned hand.

  Alaire was fixated on the dead man, his hands deftly crushing Saxon’s skull.

  “I said enough!” I yelled again, finally finding my courage. “You’ve proven your point.”

  Finally, Alaire dropped the body. The freshly mangled corpse landed with a thud at his feet. Fluid gushed from Saxon’s ruined head all over the stone floor. I looked down at the resulting mess with unmasked distaste.

  “You better have one of your… servants… clean this up,” I demanded, making certain he did not assume I would.

  “Are you not dismayed?” Alaire asked me and his chest heaved with his increased respiration.

  “No,” I answered and it was the truth.

  Saxon had been nothing but a tool, and a rather dull one at that. Deep down in my body, however, I felt something stirring, something not unlike sorrow. The most troublesome and frustrating part of this faint, odd feeling was that I couldn’t find the source for it. What reason should I have to be disheartened by the death of this fool? He meant nothing to me...

  Damn it all, what was troubling me then? It wasn’t because Alaire killed my subordinate, who had outlived his usefulness anyway. Perhaps it was simply Alaire’s slip of the tongue when he called me by her name? But, no, I didn’t attribute my current feeling to that circumstance either.

  Suddenly, I noticed a taste in my mouth. Metallic, it sat on the tip of my tongue and left my stomach yearning, even hungry. Although I hadn’t partaken of it recently, I would know that coppery taste anywhere.

  It was Tallis Black’s blood.

  Chapter Three

  Persephone

  Leaving Saxon’s body behind, Alaire guided me to his personal bedchamber in the castle. The events of the dining room stimulated me with anticipation for what was still to come. And the taste of Tallis’s blood faded away for the time being. The questionable emotions I experienced while witnessing the end of Saxon’s life were buried beneath more familiar and enjoyable emotions, like lust and desire.

  As the worn wooden door to Alaire’s bedroom swung open, the rough, stone hallway gave way to a starkly white modern suite with all the amenities one could ever hope for. A canopy bed with black, satin curtains was positioned against the far wall. The matching satin sheets were made up so tightly, I could have bounced a copper coin off their surface. A sofa set was arranged in the middle of the room around a polar bear rug. Flames crackled from an imposing brick fireplace, the opening of which was easily taller than I.

  Alaire left me at the door to make his way to a wash basin that was set into the wall a few paces from the bed. His dress shirt was splattered with Saxon’s body fluids and his hands were covered in filth.

  “I need a drink,” I stated, making my own way to the bar. It was at the far end of the room, opposite the imposing bed, and just as impressive. Leave it to Alaire to spare no expense in his wine collection. The vintages dated back hundreds of years before the last time I was whole. The cabinets below and behind the bar were full of casks, bottles, decanters and clay jars hundreds of years old. This evening, I was in the mood for something a little more recent.

  “How does the Chateau Latour 1961 taste?” I asked over the sound of running water. The bottle was cold to the touch and the paper label was an aged yellow, like ripe fruit. It positively reeked of money.

  “It’s quite flavorful, my dear, but I should warn you: modern wines have a different taste to what you were accustomed to before your… accident.”

  I laughed as I pulled the cork out. The smell was intoxicating, clean and fruity. I poured a glassful and downed it immediately. Then I poured another and swallowed it almost as quickly. The liquid was sweet and different from what I expected, and the aftertaste barely burned at all. It wasn’t as raw or harsh as the wines from my heyday but I still quite enjoyed it.

  “An accident? Is that what we’re calling our failed power grab?” I asked him with a smile over my shoulder as I downed another glass. I still waited to feel the telltale blurring of the edges of my mind.

  “Was it a failure in the end, though?” Alaire asked, still scrubbing his hands. “Am I not the king of this marvelous land, and are you not my queen, just as we planned?”

  I shrugged, turning back around so I could sip the Latour. Despite now occupying a perfect body with almost everything I ever wanted, I only wished it hadn’t cost me hundreds of years in a freezing hell.

  As if reading my mind, Alaire added. “Yes, I know your time in exile was awful. But don’t they say that the end always justifies the means?”

  A rustle behind me drew my attention. Alaire was out of his ruined clothes and now lying on the bed st
ark naked. The perfect folds and creases of the smooth satin were disheveled.

  “Shall we begin?” he asked, spreading his bare legs. His confidence was certainly matched by the girth of his penis. He had every right to wear that smug look on his face.

  “I suppose the end did justify the means after all,” I answered, tossing the crystal glass behind me. Hearing it shatter against the bar made me glance back. I noticed the stem of the bottle had snapped in two.

  With a devious smile on my face, I began wiggling out of my dress. One strap and then the other before the sparkling gown fell to the floor with a slight rustling sound. I stepped out of the pile of fabric and flicked it to the side with the same casual attitude as when I tossed the glass. I sauntered over to the bed, swinging my hips in obvious exaggeration. By the way he was growing, I could tell Alaire was more than a little pleased with me. In a few moments, he would feel how pleased I was with him.

  I climbed onto the bed, scooting forward until I was right in front of him. “Do you want me now, my King?” I ran my hands down my body, then along his leg before I clutched his hardness. He nodded impatiently. I swung my leg over him, effortlessly sliding onto his erection as I did so. We both let out an audible gasp as I settled on him and began thrusting my hips forward. Alaire gripped my waist.

  The same hands that gripped Saxon’s head before killing him.

  The thought came from nowhere and took me out of the moment, disrupting my rhythm.

  “Are you feeling well, my dear?” Alaire asked, moving his hands away.

  “I’m fine, my darling.” I said, hoping my lie sounded convincing.

  I once again began gyrating, while pushing that intrusive thought out of my head. His hands slowly moved back to where they were before. I tossed my head back as I rode Alaire. Small gasps of pleasure escaped my mouth with every thrust. Alaire pumped his hips in time with mine, our movements synchronized as lovers should be.

  He’s no lover. He’s a murdering, backstabbing bastard!

  That last outside thought rattled inside my head and I gasped as I wondered how it got there. I maintained my rhythm and satisfied noises so as not to concern Alaire but my mind continued to reel.

  Get out of my head, I screamed internally, feeling foolish that I was basically arguing with myself… or was I?

  “Are you happy, my queen?” Alaire asked in a monotone but bemused voice. Despite his movements, there was little to no strain in his words. Did he suspect anything…?

  “Yes, please take me!”

  Alaire sat up, wrapping his arms around me and flipping me over onto my back, his erection never leaving my opening. I moaned as he humped me faster and harder.

  Gouge his fucking eyes out!

  That damnable voice again!

  I tasted Tallis’s blood, which was curious since my mouth was so dry.

  Something was clearly not right. My heart raced at the implication of what was happening to me. Alaire appeared none the wiser, continuing to thrust with wild abandon. His breaths grew shorter, his movements quicker. I glanced down and noticed his eyes were on me, and he was studying me. I had to snap out of whatever ill-timed trance had overtaken me if I wished for him to stay ignorant.

  “Harder, my king!” I screamed, as I reached my hand up, wrapping my fingers around his neck and squeezing. Alaire’s eyes widened and bulged as I cut off his circulation.

  “Come on, you bastard, harder!” I spat as I tightened my hold around his neck. The shock of my words and actions left me stunned but the fire within me continued to grow all the same.

  This isn’t me, I found myself thinking as I exploded from the inside out, screaming in orgasmic pleasure. Alaire quickly orgasmed as well, thrusting forward one last time as his muscle spasmed inside me. I closed my eyes, savoring the wave of euphoria now coursing through my body.

  And then something happened. Just like that, I was transported. As if a foreign landscape suddenly dropped down in front of my closed eyelids.

  “Lily?” a choked voice called from what seemed very far away. I found myself on a beach, surrounded by green. Green skies, green earth, green water, a castle on a jut of land covered in green lichen and moss.

  “Lily?” That foreign voice again.

  That’s not my name, I responded.

  The wind shifted and the grass swayed in response. At my feet, a woman was covered in mud but clearly naked underneath the wet dirt. She was immobile. I studied her for what seemed like forever before my eyes found hers. Her emerald eyes were filled with hateful fire. I glimpsed a wrath that shook me to my core.

  “Lily?”

  The name jolted me back and I opened my eyes to a red-faced Alaire. My hand still squeezed his neck. My nails were digging into his pale skin, drawing his immortal blood. The droplets stained the bedsheets and my fingernails.

  “What did you just call me?” I demanded, masking my fear in anger.

  “Only what I knew would snap you out…” Alaire struggled to say the words. He didn’t fight me though. “Of whatever was so distracting you.”

  I released my hand from his neck and looked at my fingers as though they were someone else’s.

  They are someone else’s!

  I ignored the nagging voice, instead choosing to focus on Alaire’s strained face. He abruptly sat up and withdrew from me. I reached for him but he ignored my outstretched—bloodstained—hands as he began cleaning himself off anew at the wash basin.

  I was taken aback by his sudden foul mood. Until recently, Alaire, for all of his coldness, was always a surprisingly warm lover. After our union, he liked to hold me, planting small kisses on my neck and face in our mutual post-coital bliss. Though I could not explain why, these actions had the uncomfortable side effect of reminding me of my former prison.

  “Are you feeling well, Alaire?”

  His back to me, he stopped buttoning the fresh shirt he pulled from the armoire. “But of course, my fiery majesty.”

  “You seem…”

  “I have too much work to do now to dawdle any longer.”

  Alaire turned around to face me and he was all business—calculated and cold. I had to hold myself still to keep from physically being taken aback by this sudden change in his demeanor. “I shall see you very soon, Persephone. Until then.”

  With that, he left the room without so much as a backward glance. This time, the lump in my throat wasn’t the work of some misplaced pity I had for a now-dead servant, useful as he once was. Nor was it the result of a hallucination (for what else could that castle, lake and woman have been but a vision?). No, the bulge making its way up my throat was sadness, mixed with a bit of fear. It was the very real reaction to the way my king, my fellow conspirator, my lover, now looked at me. It was the expression of someone who was… bored!

  And when someone such as Alaire became bored, it did not bode well for the future of the subject in question. I lay back in bed, the unknown voice in my subconscious screaming unintelligible obscenities at me. As I tasted the blood again in my mouth, I did something I had not done in over two centuries: I began to cry very real tears.

  Chapter Four

  Persephone

  I was standing on the shore of the lake again. The castle stood out against the backdrop of the setting sun. The water was calm as death and clear as glass. I was naked and a wet breeze lashed my body, yet I felt no chill. In the distance, mountains rose above the lake like impenetrable battlements.

  Remembering her eyes, I looked for the woman in the mud. She was nowhere to be seen, so I began to walk. The grass tickled the soles of my feet and the wind whistled past my ears. But beyond the breeze, there was no other sound.

  After some time, I caught a glimpse of someone in the distance, kneeling and brooding. The figure was massive, slabs of muscle overlapping one another all along the length of his frame. His hair was close-cropped and he too was naked. I began to run toward him. Why? I did not know, but a terror suddenly filled me.

  Though I was still some d
istance from him, I could see what the man was doing. He was kneeling over the girl in the mud, only now some of the mud had been cleaned away from her. Her breasts and womanhood were uncovered, and she was exposed to him as well as the elements. His hand was nestled between her thighs. Where I felt nothing before, the heat between these two suddenly washed over me, as if I were feeling what she felt.

  I tried to speak but I could only manage to expel a few squeaks and gasps.

  No, this is my body; this is my place, I wanted to yell but I had no voice.

  I tried to move closer but I was immobilized. Something slithered up my legs. I looked down and would have screamed if I could have. Vines, ropey and covered in thorns, were working their way up from the ground, lacerating my pale skin as they wound their way around my calves.

  I tried to scream again to gain the attention of the burly man or the woman sharing my predicament, but I still had no voice. I flailed my hands, kicked my legs, and jerked my body. But the vines held fast, and the thorns cut into me even deeper. They were now at my waist, and the cuts bled red drops among the strands of greenery.

  Please make this stop, I silently pleaded but to whom I made my plea, I was not certain.

  At last, the vines halted their progress. They did not fall away or squeeze me tighter, but simply remained where they stopped. The man, meanwhile, had mounted the woman in the ground and now was preparing to enter her. A terrible jealousy overcame me, and my own burning rage nearly scorched away the plants that held me still.

  “No,” I was finally able to whisper. “No!” I repeated, the word coming out a little louder this time.

  The man stopped his initial push and sat up, twisting his head almost fully around. I finally recognized him: Tallis Black. His eyes were empty orbs of blackness and inky blood frothed from his mouth as he prepared to violate the woman in the mud.