Fallen
By Violette Dubrinsky
This is a revamped copy of Fallen: Tale of a Dark God, previously published by Beautiful Trouble Publishing. The work has been released from its prior contract, and is now solely the property of the author.
Copyright © 2009 by Violette Dubrinsky (Library of Congress)
All rights reserved. The illegal distribution of this book by any individual or corporation will be deemed fraudulent.
By purchasing this e-book, you agree to keep this copy for your personal use. The author reserves the right to sue for copyright infringement if this copy is redistributed, by upload, email or any other source, or plagiarized.
Any resemblance of characters to people, living or deceased is unintentional. All trademarks herein are the property of their respective owners and used only for the sake of creating a believable work.
Dedication
To the Readers who followed, encouraged and inspired me from the beginning, and to those who continue to do so. Thank you.
To my Beta-Team, who knows where I would be without you girls? Thank you for supporting all of my ideas, even the ones that made you raise eyebrows, call me crazy, threaten to stalk me, and bake me cookies.
To JJ, Sienna Mynx, and HRKW for the advice and knowledge you’ve imparted when I needed it the most.
And to Priscilla Rainwater, for inviting me to participate in a Halloween challenge that began this saga.
Author’s Note
The gods depicted in these tales are interpretations of the author and as such, do not necessarily follow the portrayals in traditional Greek mythology. Fallen is the first story of the Dark God Saga, the stories of the gods who dwell in Tartarus. It is followed by Bound, which is previewed at the end of this e-book.
GLOSSARY
Aphrodite: Goddess of Love and Beauty.
Atropos, Clotho, Lashesis: The three Moirae (or Fates) who control the destiny of mortals and immortals alike.
Dark God: Gods that roam Tartarus excluding Hades.
Domain: The (most times palatial) residence of a god.
Druid: Child of a human and a god.
Elysian Fields: heavenly resting place for ‘good’ people.
Erebos: God of Darkness.
Hades: God of the Underworld.
Handmaiden: Immortal servant to a goddess.
Hephaestus: God of Fire and Metal-work.
Hera: Goddess of Love and Marriage; Queen of the Olympian gods.
Hypnos: God of Sleep and Dreams.
Incubus: Male descendants of Lilith, who depend on sexual energy for survival.
Moros: God of Doom and Destruction.
Nyx: Goddess of Night.
Oizys:Goddess of Pain and Misery.
Thanatos: God of Death.
Pits of Hades: Fiery tomb for the ‘bad’ in the world.
Succubae: Male and female descendants of Lilith, who depend on sexual energy for survival.
Succubus: Female descendants of Lilith, who depend on sexual energy for survival.
Zeus: Leader of the Olympian gods.
Prologue
Tartarus,
Many years ago...
“You!”
The screech was reminiscent of a banshee, the woman who’d emitted it, worse. Thanatos had barely lifted his head away from the strawberry tipped nipple upon which his mouth was feasting, when she appeared. Aphrodite. The most beautiful of the goddesses, the goddess of love, the fainthearted, humble goddess—. Lies. He imagined she’d seduced some simpering, more than likely human, idiot into regaling people with those tales.
A light snort escaped him. While no one could doubt that Aphrodite was beautiful, with her straight, flaxen blond hair that seemed to never have strand out of place, striking blue eyes, and perfect aquiline features, she was not the most beautiful of the goddesses. In a place where beauty was standard, Thanatos found her average. The only reason she’d received that coveted title was because she’d whined and tricked her overindulgent father into agreeing with her. Of course, Zeus had had to deal with the ramifications from the rest of the goddesses, especially Hera, but Aphrodite had not cared. Every being, the gods on high, the gods below, even humans, had heard of Aphrodite’s legendary beauty and the title Zeus had bestowed upon her. She was not one for humility.
“Is there a reason you’re in my domain?” Thanatos asked of her lazily, regretting ever bringing her to his home. When she was younger and not as miserable, he’d indulged her curiosity about him, allowing her into the near impenetrable fortress he called home. Aphrodite had been curious about the dark gods; him in particular. Death fascinated her as it seemed disconnected from her elements of love and beauty. Because of his lapse of judgment she was able to enter his living space without triggering most alarms. That and the fact that Hephaestus, the blacksmith god, was her husband, and she’d pilfered some of his powers.
Tossing such thoughts away, Thanatos returned his attention to the woman beneath him. The handmaiden’s lust had faded only slightly, but he could see her nervousness underneath it. Green eyes flicked from Aphrodite to him as she gnawed slightly on her bottom lip.
Leaning down, he kissed her neck while simultaneously shifting his body against her. A lust-filled groan filled the room, and satisfaction tingled up his spine. As one of the dark gods, he took his pleasure from all of the baser pleasures in life, and that certainly included the carnal.
“Stop that this instant!” shrieked the emotional one. Thanatos turned his attention to her once more. Rose pink lips were curled down in an almost ugly snarl, and her hands were clenched into the sides of her virginal white gown. It was cut modestly, with a slight V at the front, long sleeves, and of course skirts that revealed not even a hint of ankle, instead touching her white slippers.
He lifted a dark brow. Whomever did she think she was fooling? Aphrodite had probably taken the most lovers of the Olympian goddesses, especially as she made it clear she did not share her husband’s bed anymore. Why the goddesses above thought chastity an ideal situation he did not know. Their counterparts certainly did not.
“Can you not see I am in the middle of something?” His lips curved up when he thought of the pun that those words carried. Yes, he was in the middle of something—someone.
Her face only tightened more. “You—bastard! Why would you?” She turned her attention to the handmaiden under him. “She is not a third as beautiful as I, and she certainly could not give you the type of pleasure I can.”
The woman beneath him whimpered, and Thanatos knew that it was not of pleasure, but fear. Irritated, but not enough of a bastard to put the woman through this, he pulled away from her sweat-slicked body, plopping onto his back. His unsatisfied cock stood tall and proud, undaunted. As soon as he moved, the handmaiden—Rachel he believed her name— scrambled away and began searching out her clothing.
He watched Aphrodite in silence, feeling his anger grow by the second as she continued to glare between him and Rachel, as if she had a right to her anger.
The handmaiden had dressed, and was reaching for the dragon head handles of his dark wooden door when Aphrodite suddenly grabbed her arm, spinning her around. Thanatos was beside them in an instant, easily restraining Aphrodite as she continued her God-awful screeching and the handmaiden ran—for it certainly could not be called a brisk walk—from his chambers.
As soon as the handmaiden was gone, he released Aphrodite and snapped his fingers. The clothing for which he was known appeared on his body, outfitting him in a long dark coat, fitted black pants that left him enough room to breathe, black boots, and of course, a silky black, button down shirt. Unlike his twin, he had no love for colors. Black was practical, and i
t went along well with his soul-retrieving tasks.
Thanatos ran a hand through his tousled hair, and saw her eyes trace it. Even from where he stood, mere feet away, he could feel the heat of her desire.
“Did you want something, Goddess?”
Electric blue eyes flashed at him. Anger was written there, but lust slowly encroaches as she stared at his lips. “You know what I want.” In a softer voice, she continued, “I know you want me, Thanatos. We both want the same thing. This game has become silly, and I’ve decided to end it. I want you to...take me.”
A sardonic smile split his lips. Were it anyone else, Thanatos imagined that those words might have enticed the dark and primitive side of his being. But alas, it was Aphrodite, and she was delusional. She hadn’t always been like this, but years of being given everything her greedy heart desired had obviously gone to her head.
Stepping closer to her, he saw her eyes widen in excitement and her tongue snake out to touch her lips. Anticipation hummed in the air about her. He stopped when his body was an inch away from her, when her five foot eight frame had to look up to his six foot five. Only then, did he speak.
“I do not want you, Aphrodite. I highly doubt that I will ever want you. Now, if that is all, there are important things that I have to do, so if you will—.”
Soft but strong arms grabbed the lapels of his jacket, effectively molding her body to his. Peaked nipples pushed against the silk of his shirt.
“Who do you think you are to refuse me, the divine goddess Aphrodite?” she demanded furiously. “I am wanted by many! Gods would give up their godhood to have me lie with them! Humans worship at my temples! You are nothing! My father could wipe you and your lowly family out in the span of one breath, do you understand—?”
She was prevented from finishing when Thanatos caught her by the arms and had her against the nearest wall in under a second.
“What did you say about my family?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.
His family was among the few to survive the epic shift from Titans to Olympians. It was not that Zeus particularly harbored any genuine feelings for them, but Thanatos’s parents, Nyx and Erebos, were two of the gods that no god, no matter how strong, wanted to piss off. As the goddess of night, Nyx could plunge everything into permanent night, and Erebos, foul tempered god of darkness around everyone save his wife, could flood Mount Olympus with plagues and things beyond Zeus’s wildest dreams. And the two dark gods hadn’t stopped there. Their children included Moros, the god of doom, and his twin Oizys, goddess of misery; Clotho, Lashesis and Atropos, known to god and man alike as the Fates; Nemesis, the weapon wielding goddess of justice; Keres, goddess of violent death, who at times understood Thanatos even more than his own twin; and Thanatos, incarnation of death, and Hypnos, who lorded over the subconscious.
Despite Zeus’s ascent to power, the Olympian god acknowledged the necessity of the dark gods and recognized, unlike his foolish daughter, that the repercussions of taking them on as enemies far outweighed the benefits.
Aphrodite gasped when his eyes bled to black, the energy around his body seemed to triple, and a wave of coldness blanketed the room.
“You can’t kill me, Thanatos,” she said, but there was uncertainty in her voice. Because she was a divine goddess, a descendant of the original Olympians, he was not supposed to kill her. It did not mean that he could not kill her. Just that he wasn’t supposed to.
Thanatos repeated his question, waiting patiently for the goddess to either accept his challenge or withdraw her own.
“I said you’re nothing, Thanatos! Release me—let me go. I swear I’ll have my father come down here, and blast you into so many pieces—.” She tried to break his hold, but only ended up wearing herself out.
Taking her chin between his fingers, he lifted her head and fixed her with a deadly glare.
“I don’t ever want to hear you talking about my family again—.”
“You can’t order me around! I outrank you!”
“They call me the Bringer of Death, Appy,” he said softly, using the nickname she’d hated from the moment she hit puberty, and had turned into the spoiled goddess before him. “Would you like to find out why?”
She did not move for a long while, but her eyes flashed with anger and humiliation. Thanatos repeated his question. A defiant shake of her head was his answer.
“Good,” he said as if he’d just finished scolding a child. The amount of times that he’d gone through similar scenarios with Aphrodite had made her childlike in his eyes centuries ago. “Now, go back to Mount Olympus, and be the good wife that your husband thinks you are.”
Her lips tightened at the mention of Hephaestus, who despite his lameness, was a decent god and did not deserve to be saddled with a whiny, unappreciative witch of a wife. Why Hephaestus still claimed her, Thanatos could only guess, and even then he came up with little. Aphrodite had a pretty face and form, but she was a shrew. Her father was king of the gods, but she was disloyal. He decided Hephaestus was either very patient and loved his wife, or incredibly stupid.
Moving to the other side of the room, Thanatos closed his eyes, put all thoughts of Aphrodite from his mind and searched them out. Like pinpricks across his skin, he could feel them. The dying, the dead. Their souls were still in their respective realms, waiting for him. When humans died, their souls remained anchored to their bodies until he released them. The immortals, children or creations of the gods, were different. Their souls left their bodies instantly and were transported to Realm of the Dead in Tartarus. It was his job to escort both to their respective places of rest; the Elysian Fields for the good and Pits of Hades for those who had committed enough wrongs to end up there.
Thanatos felt his body grow weightless like air, and then he was travelling. Death would be collecting tonight, as he always did.
***
He delivered the souls as he’d done countless times over, taking the sad, weeping and sometimes relieved across the river Styxx, and leaving them to Hades, god of the underworld and overseer of the Pits and the Fields. Despite his status as an Olympian, Hades seemed to fit more with the dark gods, and unlike most of his kin, Thanatos did not despise him. Outside of the souls he delivered to the god, they hardly saw each other. Hades spent his time in his own domain with his wife, Persephone, when she was actually there, while Thanatos spent his becoming better acquainted with handmaidens and goddesses, and bringing souls to the underworld. Exhausted, he returned to his bedchambers, stripped out of his clothing, and drifted to sleep.
Thanatos awoke to the sound of someone approaching. His body was instantly alert, his powers singing under his skin as he prepared for an attack. One never knew when it was coming, especially with the reigning Olympians.
Instead of an attacker, a luscious dark haired beauty with large eyes, and even larger breasts—he noted the breasts first—wearing a loose, cream gown with a slight slit that bared toned arms and calves, and holding a straw basket, moved to stand just inside his bedchamber. Mentally he undressed her, wondering if she was handmaiden or demi-god? While handmaidens were mostly the children of Gods and humans—druids was the name given to those who remained in the human world—demi-gods were purebred but with lesser powers than the other gods.
“Who are you?” His voice was low, a seductive purr, used whenever he intended to make another conquest. Before the night was out, she would be crying, screaming or moaning his name. Perhaps all three.
“Prescipita, my lord. I have come to bathe you.” Her voice was husky, and there was no mistaking the way her breasts rose and fell quickly with each pull of air into her lungs. Centuries of practice had given him the ability to read women as easily as he took souls. Instinct told him Prescipita would be wet to his touch if he undressed her.
But she’d said she was there to bathe him? Thanatos smirked. He’d been bathing himself for centuries without mishap.
As her gaze drifted down his sheet-covered body, he grinned. The things ha
ndmaidens said when they obviously meant come to fuck his brains out or have their brains fucked out. Whichever way, he enjoyed. Sex was a sport at which he excelled. Some, most, might even say he’d perfected it.
“You’re a handmaiden?”
“Yes, my lord.” She edged closer, until she was near his bed. Thanatos always slept in the nude, and he knew the moment her eyes found his cock under the thin, now tented sheet. Tartarus was one stable temper, warm, so there was no need for thicker covers.
Prescipita cleared her throat, and licked at her pink lips. She had thin lips, and while he preferred fuller, they suited her face.
“Are you really here to bathe me, handmaiden?” he asked in a tone rank with seductive innuendo. A light blushed stained cheeks almost the color of the gown that robed her, and she lowered her eyes coyly. Thanatos might have laughed at her attempt at innocence, because the handmaiden before him certainly was not.
“I want to ease you, my lord.”
That was better, closer to honesty than the last statement.
He smiled and used his powers to toss the sheet from the bed, revealing his nakedness to her. Her eyes were drawn to his length, and she stared at it in wide-eyed fascination until he drew her down, and showed her just why he was rumored to be the best lover on both Mount Olympus and Tartarus. As he slaked his lust, Thanatos forgot to query exactly how she’d entered his domain.
***
“I demand retribution!”
The voice to which he awoke was definitely not the soft, urgent one of the pretty handmaiden. Thanatos rolled onto his back, and blinked in shock when his lids open to reveal a horde of deities in his room. By the Gods, had someone died?
A stoic Nyx stood next to cool Erebos on one side of the room, while Hera and Zeus seemed to be arguing at the other. In the background, he could see Hypnos, his twin, and his older brother, Moros, shaking their heads at each other, and then him.
Fallen (Dark God Saga) Page 1