by S. A. Parker
Recipe for fucking disaster if you ask me. I’m surprised they haven’t killed each other already.
Speaking of Sol, I hope he comes to visit me soon—I have some serious grovelling to do.
“Need help finding food, babe?” Drake drawls from behind me. “Or a toilet?”
Wanker.
I peer through an arched doorway that’s got to be ten times taller than me, and into a sprawling throne room, gasping at its splendour.
Intricate designs carved into the colossal walls and columns lining the space appear to tell a story, perhaps of things past, and happenings yet to come. The room must be big enough to fit a couple thousand people at least, the vast floor buffed to a high gleam, sending my eye skimming over the surface to that gold fucking throne perched on the ornate dais at the back of the hall … holy shit. That’s one shiny, big boy chair.
“I’m sure I’ll find it eventually,” I mumble, jiggling.
Fucking bladder.
“Want to go in there?”
I jump so high I damn near piss myself because the bastard’s suddenly right at my ear, so close that my arm hairs are reaching out to stroke him. I turn around and attempt to flatten him with a glare, but he just laughs.
“No. Thank you.”
I should probably try and be polite to him now that I’ve seen his monolith fucking throne room. The guy’s obviously a big deal around here—don’t want to be seen disrespecting the man.
He steps further into my personal space, which has my vagina reaching her little arms out to grab him. Traitor. She’s obviously not deterred by the fact that he wants to hoard my piss.
“What if I want you to,” he purrs. “What if I want to take you to that throne, sit you on my lap, spread your legs and fucking worship you until you cum all over my fingers.”
Fucking gulp. His nostrils flare … my cheeks heat.
“You’re not playing fair …”
The fucker smirks, casually shrugging a shoulder. “Baby, I never play fair.”
“Are you just trying to get me to squirt everywhere so you can bottle it up?”
The corner of his lip curls ever so slightly. “You said it, not me.”
Bastard. I turn around and storm off, but a large hand wraps around my arm, halting me on the spot. “Wrong way.” Drake hurtles us into the Bright so swiftly I almost vomit my empty guts up, landing us at a table laden with food.
I stare at the excessive feast before us, hoping we’re not expected to eat all that on our own …
Drake tugs a chair out for me at the head of the table, signalling for me to lower my wiggly arse onto the seat. Which I do. Only because it means I can tuck my leg under and try to block the golden gates with the heel of my foot.
Drake takes a seat along the side, close to me but leaving the seat at the other head free.
The large room overlooks the mountain scape—lush, fertile land with a chasm running between the middle of the two peaks, like a ying and yang mountain island in the middle of the ocean.
I look back to the table, and frown. “Do we need all this food? Seems a bit excessive if you ask me.”
Bacon, eggs, pastries, cheeses, grapes … even fucking caviar, which I was once ‘treated’ to in Kroe’s chambers. The thought of eating that at this time of the morning makes me want to hurl all over the table.
Aero strolls in wearing his metal god gear I’d hoped to one day peel off him myself, looking all casual and fucking cool, running his gaze over me and scenting the air before he sits down at the other head of the table.
I don’t want to bite him as much anymore, and it’s nice to feel like I’m not going to jump the guy and start gnawing on his arse. Though, I still like the thought of sinking my teeth into his neck ...
“We eat a fuck tonne,” Drake says, filling his plate. His wings are still out, spread wide and resting behind him.
Right, better get to it then. I pour myself a glass of water and pluck a small stem of grapes off the overwhelming pile before me.
Fuck, I need to piss. I wiggle my hips a little, curling my foot beneath me further. Looking up, I catch Aero watching me over the top of a glass of juice.
“What?”
He shakes his head, then looks across to Drake. “This is going to be harder than we thought.”
“I’m aware of that, Dawn. I haven’t wanted Sol’s company before in my very long existence, but right now, he would be very fucking handy.”
“Are you guys talking about me peeing in a jar?”
They look at each other, then back to me, nodding.
Sexy sickos.
I roll my eyes and take a sip of water. “Take your pee fantasies elsewhere. Not judging, it’s just not my thing.”
Drake looks at me like he’s staring down the blade of a sword. “I’ll follow you around with that jar all day if I have to. Though by the looks of things, that won’t be necessary.”
Yeah, okay, so I’m doing a lot of squirming and my fucking foot’s jammed hard against my pee hole, trying to plug the fucker.
I take another sip of water then realise it’s only going to make the pee situation worse. Groaning, I slam the glass down on the table, unplug my pee hole, stand and start pacing the room.
Drake shifts his wings, looking like he’s prepared to pounce at the drop of a golden droplet.
“Why the fuck do you need my pee, anyway?”
Aero clears his throat and I eye him like I have a score to settle. Because I do. First, he kissed me into oblivion, then he wouldn’t let me chew on his bicep, and now he wants a jar of my pee? I don’t like the direction our relationship’s going. A steady fucking decline, that’s what it is.
“Urinology.”
Fuck no.
What I want to do is throw myself out that wide open window, into the chasm of water down there where I can pee to my heart’s content without a Sun God holding a fucking jar between my legs.
Aero flashes before the windows, thwarting my escape plan, wings spreading wide and eliciting a low hiss from Drake; who’s now standing, eyeing Aero up and down like they’re in some sort of gladiator match where they’re expected to fight to the death. His wings are spread far and wide too. He looks positively ruthless and, not going to lie, fucking hot.
I feel like I’m trapped in the middle of something I really don’t understand.
“So, you want to taste my piss?” I say, trying to ignore all the tension in the room and the overwhelming scent of male dominance.
“This is my kingdom, fucker. Put them away.” Drake’s eyes are beginning to ink over … yeah, so are Aero’s.
“You’ve never been anal about this before, arsehole. Now’s not the time!”
Drake fucking hisses at him, and it’s so goddamn feral it makes me jump. Are they about to have a territory battle because Aero brought his wings out in Drake’s dining room? Fucking hell, these Gods need a full-time babysitter. I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.
Aero hisses back and it occurs to me that these guys should know better than to beef over land at such a ripe old age. They might have a coronary and die.
I realise Drake’s readying his muscles to pounce and I throw my hands up in fucking defeat. “I’ll pee in your motherfucking jar, okay! Just put the fucking wings away and calm the fuck down. Both of you.”
I snatch the jar, conveniently placed at my end of the table and storm off in search of a bathroom.
“I swear to God, if either of you drink my pee you will not live to tell the tale!”
They didn’t drink my pee. Instead, Aero flew that golden jar off to some uranology master, apparently. But if he comes back smelling like urine I’ll never trust the fucker again.
Drake’s showing me around the rooftop garden, which is more like an exotic forest full of unique plants and flowers, while I ponder over how I’m going to convince him to give me another orgasm.
A flash almost knocks me to the ground, accompanied by a sound that makes me think the fucking sky is spl
itting in two. I shield my eyes from the brightness before it quickly fades away, leaving two dirty Sun Gods standing in front of us. A second flash brings Aero in, too.
My Dawn God’s looking at me like he’s confused, and Kal’s wearing a guilty scowl that even the dirt he’s smeared in can’t hide. Sol’s filthy too, muscles slick with sweat and clumps of mud and grass clinging to his clothes. Perhaps they’ve been ploughing actual fields and not actual vaginas after all ... huh.
Sol’s looking at me like he wants to cut a bitch. Confused, I drop my gaze …
He’s holding my fucking box! And not the one that’s been gagging for attention all morning.
Feeling the blood drain from my face, I spear my attention at Aero. “You fucking promised!”
“I didn’t tell them where it was!” he says, looking hurt. “I buried it twenty feet underground in the fields in the Day Kingdom, then dug up the whole fucking field so nobody would notice. I did my best to hide it … you should have worded the wish differently—I couldn’t stop them!”
“I was under duress!”
Sol kneels, then opens the lid to my private fucking possessions. I’d be gouging out his eyes right now if Drake weren’t holding me to him like I’m a feral fucking hostage. Then I remember Drake coming to collect me at the Dawn Kingdom … covered in dirt.
The fucker knew they were looking for it. He was helping them …
I groan, squirm, and try to pull away.
Looking murderous, Sol holds up a long, white feather. “What’s this, Dell? Where the fuck did you get this from? Are you his fucking spy?”
I’m choking on my emotions, gagging on them. I don’t realise I’m crying until a tear lands on my arm.
“Fuck you guys, fuck you all!” I hiss, and Drake finally lets me go. I stumble forward, spinning in a circle and looking them all in the eye, arsehole by arsehole. “I fucking hate you all.”
I pick up my box, snatch the feather out of Sol’s fucking hand and storm off down the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me, I never want to see any of you again!”
Wow, I have a real flair for theatrics. Fucking arseholes.
Suppress, Dell. Suppress.
I take hallway after hallway, down, never up. I need to go down as far as I can, then I might find a way out of this fucking place.
Hallway, stairs. Hallway, hallway, stairs. My surroundings become darker and cooler the further I go, clutching my box to my chest. The sound of rushing water intensifies with every flight.
Eventually I come to a doorway framed with thick foliage. I can hear the water flowing nearby. I hope there’ll be a boat somewhere downstream for folk like me who can’t fucking fly, though I doubt it. I might be making one myself. How hard can it be?
Maybe the tide will carry me straight to the East where I can live out the rest of my days as Dell the Orgasm Master. I’ll hone the skills Drake taught me and spend the rest of my years teaching women how to play with themselves. Good plan, I’m a fucking genius.
It occurs to me I should have packed snacks for the road, but I’m not going back. Ever. Nosey bastards. I’ll learn to fish with my teeth and hope I don’t form a mating bond with any of the scaly little suckers while I’m at it.
I clamber over rocks and branches along the edge of the river; it’s cold and I’m really wishing I’d packed a fucking bag with warm clothes. There’s a lot to be said for pre-planning. The cold saps my energy faster than I would usually lose it.
Finding a little cave near the water that’s half covered in moss, I nestle my way in there. It’s cramped but it has a great view of the river and any potentially approaching Sun Gods. I wonder how I would fare in my own territory battle, because I wouldn’t mind pitching a house here for a bit, while I build my boat and learn to catch fish with my teeth. Though I’d have to go up against Drake, and he’s scary when he gets all dark eyed and territorial. Hmm, I don’t like my chances.
I pop my box on a ledge, crack the lid open and reach inside.
A mini canine is the first thing to come out—I quickly find the other one. My baby teeth. They fucking fell out when I was twelve and I freaked out, so I kept them in case I found a way to plug them back in.
It’s frightening when random shit happens to your body and you’ve got nobody to talk about it with, except the dark. My adult ones eventually grew in, but I couldn’t bring myself to part with my little ones. They’re so cute.
I lift out a smooth grey stone that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. There’s nothing particularly unusual about it; just your regular river rock, except that it’s the exact hue of my mother’s eyes. I’ve kissed that stone more times than I could count. I do so now, then place it gently to the side.
A red feather, the one that once found a nice, cosy home in my vagina. Fucker.
A white ribbon, my favourite. It was in my hair that day … I run my fingers along the surface, enjoying the peaceful texture, pausing when I reach the tiny droplets of blood.
I breathe it in then pop it to the side.
A beautiful piece of amber, given to me by my mum—within it, a white moth suspended in time. It probably went in for a lick and ended up fucking dying. Poor little guy. It’s been a constant reminder to keep my tongue to myself … most of the time. But I love it, because it’s beautiful and my mum gave it to me. I run my finger over the smooth edges then give it a sniff, before placing it to the side.
Next, a small, corked vial, no longer than the palm of my hand and filled with something brown—don’t ask me what because I have no idea. I’ve opened the lid, but only a few times, because whatever the fuck’s in there smells like Satan’s shit left to rot for a millennia. I keep it because my mum gave it to me, and I love her, even if her gift does smell like rotten arsehole.
Finally, the pure white fucking feather. I frown at it then put it straight back in the box.
They should learn to keep their noses in their own fucking business, those Gods.
Shivering and feeling lightheaded, I pack all my bits away then close the lid on my past and curl into a little ball to preserve warmth, trying to ignore the nagging pain in my stomach that’s been intensifying since this morning.
Groaning, I rock; partly to ease the pain, partly for comfort. My stomach cramps in agonising spasms, I convulse, gagging, barely make it to the water’s edge where I vomit blood, causing what looks like a fucking murder scene to drift downstream. Sweating, I splash cold water on my face and stagger shakily to my feet.
The sound of crunching leaves catches my attention.
“Fuck off!” I yell, at whoever the hell thinks it’s a good idea to corner me right now. Don’t they know I’ve got a history of biting men’s penises off?
“I’m not here to put my penis in your mouth.”
Aero. It wouldn’t fucking fit in there anyway.
I crawl back into my cave and curl in a ball around my box. “This is my territory now, so fuck off. I told you I don’t want to see you again.”
“Your territory? That’s a brazen statement considering you’re in my kingdom.”
Bastards. They never take me seriously.
“Fuck off Drake, you traitor. It’s only a little cave, you won’t even notice I’m here.”
“I can’t give you orgasms from such a large distance, babe.”
My vagina sees his reasoning and nods her little head in agreeance, but I gag the bitch before she has a chance to speak.
“I don’t need your fucking orgasms; I’ve got my own.” I curl myself tighter.
“Just compel her out, you wanker!” That’s Sol. Fucking lovely. I wasn’t aware I sent out a group invitation.
“I’m not compelling her; she could be a spy.”
“Fuck you, Sol! And to think I was going to apologise to you for being an arse. You’re the arse. Go graze on some grass, or cunt, whichever you prefer. Doesn’t fucking bother me.”
It’s a lie, of course. I was hoping he would graze on my cunt, but I’ve just pissed that idea
up against the wall because he invaded my privacy and he thinks I’m a spy.
“I’ll deal with this.”
“No, Kal! You leave your emotional blackmail shit well the fuck away from me! Or else I’ll castrate you in your sleep. You all know I’m capable of it so don’t fucking try me!”
It goes silent. I let out a little sigh of relief and snuggle into myself further, utterly exhausted. Arguing with Sun Gods is hard work, I’m so outnumbered.
I can’t believe that actually worked—I feel like a bear who just defended her cave.
A sleepy, hibernating bear…
Wait … “Motherfucker!”
Lights out.
Chapter Thirteen
What’s worse than going to sleep in a cave feeling like death warmed up? Waking up in some random fucking house realising you are death warmed up, especially when you’re surrounded by angry, solemn, stunned, or screaming Sun Gods who think they were invited to a stomach cancer pity party. Although apparently it’s no longer just stomach cancer. I don’t do anything by halves.
It hasn’t been a shock to me—other girls at Kroe’s get it. Though it’s by no means been confirmed, my theory is that it’s the ‘mineral water’ we’re forced to drink every morning in replacement of a meal—the one that’s supposed to be great for our health but also provides us with unnatural energy. It’s got all sorts of strange shit in it. It doesn’t take long for girls to start vomiting up blood. Some last longer than others, most die or disappear for other reasons before it becomes too serious.
Like I’ve said before, I’m surprised I didn’t die years ago. It’s about time my mortality caught up with me.
“She doesn’t have cancer! Fucking heal her now!” Sol’s been yelling at the lady who tastes piss for a living since I woke up. He’s real subtle. Such a gentleman.
“Stop yelling at the poor woman, she’s probably really busy, okay? Plenty more piss to taste, let’s just leave her to it.”
Nobody even looks at me in my sick person’s cot over here. Wankers.