The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  The Serpent That Swallowed Its Tail by McKenzie Austin. Published by KDP.

  www.treethatgrewthroughiron.com

  www.facebook.com/treethatgrewthroughiron

  © 2018 McKenzie Austin

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact McKenzie Austin.

  Edited by Andrea Raymaker

  Cover by Consuelo Parra of C.P Book Covers

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7329723-0-8

  Chapter One

  He undressed her in his mind from the moment he caught her eyes across the tavern. As Commander Avard mentally peeled away each piece of clothing that adorned the mysterious maiden, a growing hunger rose inside him. His depraved imagination only flourished it.

  Her tight body moved with unusual elegance. The way her finger extended when she lifted her glass to her full, delicious lips—it stirred him. That hair—gods—it would be quite a gift to run his hands through such a dark treasure. It looked both wild and soft to the touch. Yes, she was easier on the eyes than most of the women who dared to venture into the shithole that was this small Northeastern tavern. Feminine presence proved to be a rare sight in any decrepit, liquor-filled structure. Most preferred the relative safety of their homes to the disarray of the outdoors.

  Commander Avard did not shy away from the chaos. A footman of Northeastern for many years, he adapted to the rise of the lesser gods. Compliancy made their infiltration into Panagea over the last year more bearable, as did the cheap alcohol of his favorite Northeastern pub.

  Conditions of the job became more demanding when their influence spread. Unlike some of the other divisions, Aggi Normandy still expected results and effort from the people in his employ.

  At least things in Northeastern hadn’t deteriorated as completely as they had in Eastern, Avard thought. The disappearance of Elowyn Saveign approached its first anniversary. How time still ticked there, without a Time Father or Time Mother around to maintain it, Commander Avard had no idea.

  Northwestern existed in dire straits, as well. The first division to suffer from the lesser gods’ rage, much of it became a wild land. The gods fashioned it into a symbol of their vengeance, stripping it from the hands of men, and shifting it to a land that suited their own wants and needs. It existed as the picture of archaic times, all land, trees, rivers, and not much else. The feet of humans still traveled there, but only those who wished to live a life of subservience to the beings who dominated it.

  To Commander Avard, even that was not as bad as Southwestern.

  Creatures of all shapes and sizes flooded through Emont’s division. The Goddess of Animals took over the division leader’s mind shortly after the lesser gods first returned to Panagea, molding him more into her own pet than a human being. That’s what the residents who managed to flee with their lives had claimed, anyway. Hooves, paws, and claws turned that division into an untamed place. Commander Avard shuddered at the thought of it, though he’d never seen it for himself. He had no desire to. The rumors were enough.

  He lifted his drink to his mouth and finished it, trying once more to catch the eyes of the glorious woman across from him. Success. When her gaze fell upon him, he attached himself to a small hope she’d favor him. Her eyes were seductive, but it was the sly smirk that fell across her lips that gave him the courage to stroll toward her.

  The man studied her as he approached. Long, toned legs were draped by the thin material of a form-fitting dress. The slit up the side teased him, a tempting preview of what hid beneath the material if he could find a way to talk her out of it. Or pay her out of it.

  She commanded more attention than the other concubines that filtered through the tavern doors. Whether she engaged in those various types of erotic exploits remained to be seen. She looked too elegant, standing there in the smooth cloth that hugged every curve of her body.

  He stood before her, having crossed the distance, and continued to survey her without shame. Sleek cheekbones, ethereal pale skin, intense eyes. They seemed unnaturally colorless but striking. Stylish gloves crawled up her hands and rested at her elbows, only accentuating the abnormality of her appearance in the rickety bar.

  Though she did not adopt the visage of a standard prostitute, Commander Avard liked his chances. Not many women came to the pub unless they were looking to earn a coin or two. It was far too dangerous to venture outside otherwise. The gods made sure of that.

  While others feared their presence, Commander Avard earned his boldness by befriending one. He feared no god. Instead, he gave them everything they wanted: his adoration. It was a fair price to pay to ensure he stayed on their good side.

  As soon as he made his way to the woman, he caught the barkeep’s attention by lifting a hand. His drink of choice found its way to him moments later. A regular at the tavern, the bartender knew his order well enough to prepare it without an exchange of words, and prepare it quickly. It was either that or suffer the wrath of Commander Avard and his godly companion.

  He raised the drink, along with a curious eyebrow, while he drank in the sight of the maiden once more. “Evening, m’lady. What brings you here?”

  She turned to him with the same enticing smirk she offered from across the room. “Are you Commander Avard?” she asked, her voice dark and alluring.

  The footman laughed, arrogant under the flickering candle lights scattered throughout the tavern. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  “Indeed, it does.” She reached over to take his drink from his hands. The woman spilled the liquid into the back of her throat, swallowing it down with one smooth effort before she slid the empty glass back onto the counter. “It’s an intriguing man who shares his friendships with gods.”

  Commander Avard watched her inhale his beverage, trying to downplay his mix of shock and lust. What else could she slide down her throat with such eagerness? He chuckled again at her mention and shrugged a conceited shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Koros and I go way back. Almost back to when the gods first returned to Panagea,” he said, trying to sound more remarkable than he was.

  He had fashioned a friendship with the God of Lust almost as soon as he met him. It was a relationship borne of necessity. Commander Avard did not wish to chance being corrupted by the gods. The best solution, he thought, was simple. If he could not beat them ... it was wiser to join them. “He and I are good pals,” he finished.

  The woman smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her gloved finger came to rest at the curve of her jaw. Her enchanting smirk remained. “He sounds charming. Perhaps you could introduce us.”

  Commander Avard’s eager expression dimmed. So that was why she came here. Damsels across all of Panagea flocked to get in good with the gods by offering their bodies. It was not uncommon, particularly where Koros, God of Lust, was concerned.

  Avard frowned. He did not enjoy sharing his female company with the lesser god but were it not for Koros, he’d seldom have a woman to warm his bed. Not without going bankrupt, anyway. It was with some indignity that he took whatever scraps he could get. In this case, at least she was gorgeous. “So, where are we doing this thing?” he asked, throwing formalities aside.

  She stood from her chair and smoothed out her dress, tormenting him by sliding her hands slowly down her taut body. “I rented a room at the inn. Follow me.”

  The inn attached to the pub. A short walk. Even better. Commander Avard watched her leave, enjoying the view. He looked to the barkeep, who had hopeful eyes that the footman might pay for his beverages this time. As usual, Avard threw up his middle finger and traipsed out the door, without so much as a second thought for his bill.

  The woman sauntered with a certain grace he loved to watch. His eyes lingered on her hips as they swayed from side to side. It lingered until she approached the door to her rented room and removed a key from between her breasts.

  When they were both inside, she locked th
e door and drew the blinds closed. It only made Commander Avard grin at the unsavory, carnal acts he saw in his future. Best to shield their depravity from the eyes of passers-by. “You sure you don’t want to have a little fun with me one-on-one before we invite Koros?” he asked while he removed his Northeastern-issued attire.

  “Tempting,” she replied, turning from the window to face him. “But he’s a critical part of the process.”

  Commander Avard scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He had heard it all before. The women always wanted Koros. With their touch allowing them keen insights into mortal minds, no fetish went unfulfilled when a god entered the bedroom—with an emphasis on the God of Lust. “I’ll just ... summon him then,” he said, his words slow in the hopes she’d stop him.

  She didn’t.

  The footman sighed and closed his eyes. “Koros, it’s Avard. Got another one here looking for a spiritual experience, if you know what I mean.”

  His prayer lacked finesse, but it worked. In the blink of an eye, Koros appeared, as picturesque as the woman expected the God of Lust to look. Already absent of clothing above the waist, Koros grinned, not at all shy at showcasing his collection of toned muscles and faultless skin.

  The lesser god ignored Avard and turned to face her, consuming the sight of the woman who sought his company. He seemed pleased with what he saw. “Well, then,” he purred, extending his arms out to invite her in, “come here, and let me enlighten you.”

  The siren removed two blindfolds, again, from between her breasts. She smirked when she approached the two men, handing a piece of cloth to each one. “I want you to concentrate solely on how all of this feels. The sensation of touch is amplified when other senses are taken away.”

  After exchanging glances with one another, both men released lecherous chuckles. No hesitation went into stripping themselves of their clothing. Continued, debauched covetousness hid in their quiet laughter. Along with the thrill of being blindfolded, Commander Avard delighted that he wouldn’t have to look at Koros and his damnable abs the entire time. It was easier to pretend the women they slept with were interested in him that way.

  “Sit,” she said, extending a hand to the mattress atop the wobbly bed that sat in the room.

  The pair lowered their naked bodies onto the thin mattress, the old coils squealing beneath them. The contents of the inn lacked integrity, but being attached to the pub, their course of usefulness rarely ever extended beyond an hour or two.

  The seductress walked over, bending down, exciting them both until they realized she only took to her knees to pull a length of rope out from under the bed. “I know you can get out of these easily,” she said, her eyes on Koros as a sly smile slid over her lips, “but it’ll be more fun if you don’t.”

  He’d never had a mortal tie him to a bed before. Koros grinned, delighted to play her game. If she wanted to feel a sense of power over a powerful being, who was he to argue? It was in his design to provide the utmost pleasure. It would be something new. Something fresh. The God of Lust reveled in the thought. “All right, then,” he said, surrendering himself.

  “Good,” she whispered, her pale eyes aglow. “Now, put your blindfolds on.”

  Commander Avard cursed to himself, already aware that she showered Koros with more obvious favor. Still, he did as he was instructed, as did his godly companion.

  When she was certain they were deprived of sight, she waited until they slid up the bed, closer to the posts. Koros, unable to contain his thrill, tried to reach out and touch her. She backed away.

  “Ah-ah-ah,” she chastised, waving her gloved finger, though she knew they could not see her. “No touching yet. I want the build-up to be worth the wait.”

  When the men were in a suitable position, the woman weaved the ropes around their wrists and ankles—careful not to touch them—and secured them in their places. Once she felt certain they were tied down, she stepped back and looked them over. Bound to perfection. “Are you ready?” she whispered.

  Avard nodded. Koros grinned. “Ready, indeed.”

  She lowered herself to the floor once more. From beneath the mattress, where she pulled the ropes, dim candlelight caught the polished steel of an intricately-engraved katar. Thin veins of design enveloped the blade. Intricacies only she could see. She approached the eager men, hovering over them as she lined up her aim. Almost there. The tip of the steel hovered just before Koros’ heart.

  Then, she plunged it down.

  A throaty sound came from Commander Avard’s companion. The footman made a face beneath his blindfold. Whatever it was she was doing to him, it caused Koros to utter sounds the commander never heard before. The lesser god couldn’t seem to control himself. Though an initial irritation existed at having to share her with Koros, if she could summon such rough sounds from the lustful lord himself, it seemed like his reward would be worth the wait.

  His anticipation dampened, however, when he felt a warm liquid creep over onto his bare legs. His imagination left him displeased. Could Koros not control himself? Or at the very least, his aim?

  The woman’s voice met his ears unexpectedly as Avard remained bound to the bed. “How long have you two been friends?” she asked.

  “Uh ...” It was not a particularly sexy question. The commander shrugged from the confines of his ropes. “Almost a year now, I think.”

  “Would you say he shared a lot with you?”

  “Shared?” Her word choice made the footman grow restless. His brows fell over concerned eyes, hidden behind his cloth. He tried to move his wrists, but her knot-tying skills were excellent, and the binds would not yield to his struggle.

  Noticing his tussle against the ropes, the woman tilted her head. “Let me help you with that,” she said, removing his blindfold and tossing it aside.

  When Avard regained his vision, he immediately turned to Koros. The body of the god laid beside him, bathed in blood from his recent evisceration. His dead eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling.

  All the previous seduction that lived in the woman’s words before drained away. She nested the katar on her shoulder, smearing her dress with flecks of red. Her words were flat and icy. “Where’s Mimir?”

  Commander Avard flailed against the ropes. He was a powerful man, and though her knots were secured with unmatched skill, adrenaline fueled the soldier with panicked strength. The integrity of one rope gave way under his force and he managed to free a single limb.

  He grabbed her wrist, hoping to still the arm that might slay him. What he felt under her glove caused his stomach to drop.

  Where soft, yielding skin should have hidden, he felt only cold, hard, steel.

  The woman dropped her katar and pulled a knife with her other hand. She brought it up to his throat without delay. His eyes widened. His pulse quickened. He stared into her pale, violent irises and breathed. “The Steel Serpent ...”

  An unflattering moniker she had earned over the last year. The woman frowned, pressing the metal further into the delicate skin of his neck. “I’ll ask again. Where’s Mimir?”

  “I-I don’t know,” Commander Avard stuttered, unable to find any position that allowed him to shy away from her blade. “If I knew, I, I’d tell you. Th-they want him dead as much as you do!”

  “So, you don’t know.” Her expression reflected her displeasure. “A pity.”

  “Please, Steel Serpent, I beseech you!” Avard writhed further, as more of Koros’s spilled blood warmed his exposed skin. “The gods and I, this god, we, we’re not even good friends, I, I just use him for—”

  A quick slice of her blade across his throat ended a conversation she had no desire to hear. She knew in the first three garbled words that he didn’t have the answer she wanted.

  His eyes held panic as he felt his life drain away. With each pounding of his heart, more of him slipped into the afterlife. The woman grabbed the edge of a bed sheet, using it to clean her soiled dagger. “I was never a fan of that name, you know.” Her eyes
flicked over to him, watching the last bits of his life fade away. “For future reference,” she said, knowing he had no future to speak of, “you can just call me Bermuda.”

  Chapter Two

  Nearly a year had passed, and she still hadn’t tried to manipulate his thoughts in an attempt to kill him.

  Edvard Addihein felt certain when he saw Epifet standing in Esther Hiddle’s empty cell in the psychiatric facility those many months ago, she had returned to exact her revenge. It would not have been a stretch of the imagination. Many of the lesser gods who had invaded Panagea shared that behavior. Gaining control of Northwestern and Southwestern had quieted a majority of their foul behavior, but every division still felt the sting of rogue lessers running amok and toying with peoples’ lives.

  He wouldn’t have blamed Epifet if she tried to corrupt him. She, more than any other, knew the horrible details of his most abhorrent sin. As he watched her, standing and staring out the tall window of his Western home, with her gentle eyes on the people who wandered below, he found himself relieved that her intention was not to spill his blood.

  Perhaps it was only because she needed him.

  Edvard tried not to think of her reemergence into his life as a relationship of convenience. The part of him that wanted clemency felt grateful for her return, regardless of how many unflattering memories it brought to the surface. It gave him a chance to make up for his depravities. To cleanse his soul.

  Then again, Edvard did not know whether he believed in souls. He did not think much about the illusion of what awaited a person in the afterlife. He only knew that twenty years’ worth of guilt changed a man. He did not remember the feeling of a blameless existence. It would be nice, he thought, to touch that sentiment again ... if it was possible.

  Epifet knew he stood behind her without turning. Edvard Addihein had an identifiable aura. It filled a room with reverence, masked by a heavy layer of remorse. He reminded the goddess a lot of Nicholai in that way. The Addihein men both carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.