More. Taste . . .
Fuck. I want to. So badly.
I cup her chin and her full lips part. Her chest expands with a deep breath and her breasts bump against my chest.
An odd tingle shoots through my gums. I tell my pathetic, perverted ass to stop, but does my body listen? Of course not. Especially not when Eve exhales shakily, her sweet breath sliding between my lips.
Need. Taste.
I clench my eyes shut. When I manage to open them again, my face is right next to Evesse’s.
Her lips part further. I catch just a glimpse of her elongated incisors. I get instantly hard, my cock pushing angrily against my jeans.
“Eve.” Damn it, I sound like an agonized animal. “You need to wake up for me.”
Trembling, and on the verge of doing something very, very stupid, I swallow the saliva pooling inside my mouth.
I accidentally pierce the inside of my lip with my teeth. The taste of my own blood hits my tongue.
Of their own will, my eyes drop down to her neck.
Damn near obsessed, I can’t tear myself away no matter what I do. Every pound of her artery goes painfully through me, slamming into my cock.
That tingle shoots through my upper jaw again. I want to sink my teeth, sink them as deep as possible so I can . . . what exactly?
Drink her?
Dear gods, yes. The idea of her blood sliding into me nearly fells me right here.
Holy shit. What in the—
“Wake up, please. You need to wake up.”
As soon as the last word leaves my mouth, Eve’s back arches off the bed. Towards me. Her little nipples are hard, pushing against the gray tank top she’s dressed in.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, closing my eyes again. I can’t look. Should pull away. There’s no way I can claim my R’ma while she’s in a freaking coma.
Right?
Taste her!
Shut the fuck up already!
God of Tranquility? There’s no way I can be considered as such with what I’m feeling. My lips brush across her cheek, tongue soaking in her taste.
“While I medically understand what you must be going through, I must admit that I find myself freaked out. The girl isn’t even awake to enjoy your . . . affections.”
I jerk back at the sound of Vedlyl’s voice. Slowly, I turn my head towards the God of Medicine.
“I was just stopping by to check on her, but if you need some more time with your R’ma, by all means—”
“Are you an idiot? You of all beings show yourself before me while I’m like this?” Dematerializing, I reappear in front of Vedlyl and slam him against the wall. “Fix. Her,” I growl, not even bothering to hide my fangs. Maybe if I focus on his God of Medicine side, Mavrak won’t lock on the other.
“If I could do that,” Ved begins, nonchalantly grabbing my wrists and moving my hands away, “she’d be awake already.”
The anger that courses through me at those words makes my extremities go numb.
“Zen, you need to calm down. Your eyes—”
“I know!” My scream is loud enough to make the walls shake.
A small whimper comes from the direction of the bed. Heart racing, I flash back to the bed and lean over a scowling Eve.
“I’m sorry, little one. I’m sorry.” I run my fingers through her thick black hair, brushing it away from her face. “Vedlyl, this isn’t a normal coma. She’s responsive.”
“We are aware of this. But her powers are—”
“Massive. I can sense them. What powers though? We both know that a God cannot exist at full power without a purpose.”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
I crack my neck, trying to push back the roar building in my head. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I honestly can’t. I have no idea yet. All I can tell you is what Nylicia and I know. What you already know. Her powers, whatever they are, are expanding, morphing inside her. On top of that, her mind is replaying whatever happened in her past.”
I know exactly what happened. Remembering it makes the burn at the back of my neck worse.
“ . . . taking all that into account, it’s no wonder her body is overwhelmed,” Ved continues, stopping behind me and staring down at Eve. His bright, aqua eyes travel over her form, his pupils flashing between blue and yellow as he studies her.
My control is pretty much non-existent at this point, and standing here, staring at my female and not being able to do anything to help her has me on the verge of going nuclear.
I’m seconds away from losing control of Mavrak. I feel impotent, and considering my current state, that shit isn’t good for anybody.
Especially my R’ma.
Especially the male standing behind me.
“You will call me the moment she shows any signs of change.” It isn’t a question.
“Try not to fight it, Zen. Trust me on that.”
I freeze, torn between using Ved as a stress-ball and begging him for advice. “I understand that what lies within you is as monstrous as what lies within me . . .”
“Even more so,” is Vedlyl’s solemn response.
“Either way, we both know that when it comes to control, you’re much better at it than I ever was.”
Vedlyl lowers his head, the sunlight glinting off his platinum blond hair. “If control is what you call it. The only reason I have it is because I do not fight what’s inside me. I feed it. In small doses, but I feed it.”
“So you’re saying that I have to feed Mavrak in small doses? Right. And figuratively speaking, how long do I need to ‘feed’ him to begin to control him? We’re talking centuries, aren’t we? Did you forget that my mate is lying in the bed behind you?”
“I did not. And it’s no one’s fault but your own. You’ve been suppressing him for . . . what? Fourteen-in-a-half-thousand years?”
“Roughly,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Well, there you go. You have your answer.”
Choking the ever-living fuck out of Ved is looking better and better by the second.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you. I’ve been too busy to ‘feed’ myself lately, and conflict of any kind is the last thing I need. As you can see, I have a patient to take care of.”
“I’m going to have to isolate myself, you know that. If I let him out around any of you . . .”
“Your penance stare will rip us to shreds, Ghost Rider. I am aware.”
I cringe. “You need to spend less time with Cyake. Seriously.”
“Actually, he hates those comics. Probably has something to do with him being the Lucifer to your Johnny Blaze.”
“Alright, that’s it. I’m out of here. You’ll call me the moment she shows any sign of waking.” Or if she gets worse. But I don’t say that out loud. I can’t. “I’m also going to need something to bind myself. The only thing strong enough is Gleipnir.”
“Cyake has the binds in his room. Stole them from Asgard during his last visit.”
I roll my eyes up towards the sky. “I’m not even going to ask. Just have him bring it to my room. And you will—”
“I heard you the first time. Call you the moment she shows any signs of change. Just make sure you’re accessible. Oh, and here’s some advice. Stop being a coward and find someone, or hell, something worthy of the punishment you’re going to dish out.”
“And when that thing is dead?”
“You find another. And another. I know you’re a peace-loving male and all that, but there are things in this Universe that do deserve to be punished. Including me, if it has to come down to that.”
The truth of Vedlyl’s words is a blast of red-hot, furious clarity. It rouses Mavrak and has him banging against my skull, each hit echoed by a roar and a name.
A whole lot of names.
“Hmm. Your demon likes that idea, doesn’t he?”
“Do not fucking taunt me.” The world spins, and my grid begins to change, shifting from the emotional spectrum
and straight into the kaleidoscope-merry-go-round of sins.
I barely manage to about-face right before Vedlyl’s past slams into my processors. “Just have Cyake bring me the damned bindings.”
CHAPTER 8
ZENIEL
I rematerialize into the upper level of the compound and straight into my room. There, I slam the huge double doors closed so hard that cracks spread out onto the doorframe. My hands are shaking. Violent tremors begin to spread through the rest of my body.
I lean my forehead against the doors and dig my fingers into my hair, pulling on it and gnashing my teeth.
I won’t even be able to leave the dimension unless I calm down somehow.
Ignore it. Ignore it, I tell myself in vain. Images clash together in my mind, emerging and reemerging. A punishing movie that consists of my sudden hunger for Evesse, my knowledge of her past, and her infuriating, but intriguing personality.
She drove me insane while awake; she’s still managing to do so even though she’s in a coma.
More than anything, I can’t let go of her past.
Do it. Punish.
I growl, trying to push back Mavrak’s voice. No.
Do it! You know where to find the soul.
No! I yell in my mind again, turning and sliding down to the floor with my back against the doors. Rocking back and forth, I try to fight the voice inside me that clamors for vengeance.
Lucifer wouldn’t fight you. Not if you go with Crius. We know this. Get the soul. Punish him for what he did!
I stumble to my feet, nearly falling into a side table next to the wall. The statue on it is one of the first Buddha—Siddhartha—when he was young.
I manage to catch it, refusing to let a likeness of my close friend break apart. I right the statue, making sure it’s steady, before stumbling backwards away from the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the holographic image on the other table, the one of my mother, Persicutis. I look away, not needing the ache that image causes.
She was another not avenged; another vengeance that you did not take. Let me out. I will avenge Mother. I will avenge our female.
“You will then move on to the rest of the world, killing them all in your hunger.”
It’ll stop the pain. They deserve to be punished!
“By the gods, no.”
The roaring in my head gets louder and a red haze starts to overcome my vision. It’s only a matter of time. If I don’t manage to calm down, even Mavrak’s voice will be lost behind the haze. It burns like acid as it grows stronger.
This is how it is. Every. Damn. Time.
I may not remember much of what it was like to be Mavrak, but this I could never forget.
The accompanying sound will become like a high-frequency vibration leaking into the crevices of my mind. Until I’m scorched and pain turns to despair. Despair will then turn to anger.
Anger to agony.
At that point, only one thing will ease the agony. I’ll have to seek the vengeance my powers demand. Once I give in, the pain will recede.
For a little while, at least.
Then it’ll begin again and I’ll have to give in to the urge to continue punishing just to escape it.
Repeatedly, until there’s barely anyone left alive.
Just like before.
The boy. Somehow, I still remember the boy who died under my stare thousands of years ago.
My energy level spikes, making it impossible for me to breathe. Stumbling, I nearly fall into the bathroom. I mentally turn on my shower, leaving the water the coldest it can go.
I rip off my leather jacket and don’t even bother to dematerialize the rest. My t-shirt, jeans, and boots go with me as I trip into the huge shower and let the frigid water blast me.
Trembling, barely hanging on, I slide to the floor of the shower and pull at my nearly loose hair. As the minutes pass, and the haze in my mind recedes a little, one thing becomes clear.
I can still feel Evesse.
Can still taste her in my mouth.
The memory of Eve’s scent slashes through my body with all the power of a meteor colliding into a planet. She smelled positively delicious. Flowery, spicy, and mouthwatering.
“Fucking hell.”
I arch against the shower wall, head falling back and momentarily cracking it. My lower abdominals ache, the fire there competing with the burn in my head. I’m being bombarded by near-freezing water on four sides, but it isn’t helping jack shit.
The corners of my vision remain red, the color pulsating in time with my heartbeat. The pain in my abdomen spreads.
I’m too far gone to even be ashamed.
“This is bullshit,” I growl under my breath, forcing myself to stand and will off my clothes.
The moment my jeans disappear, my dick bounces up before settling straight away from my body—one long, throbbing pole of pain. Precum leaks from the tip, my balls draw in tight.
The air is enough to make me jerk and throb, the cold water doing nothing to ease the pressure.
I let my head fall back, another growl rolling out of my throat. My fists clench. I’m desperate to grab my cock, give myself the pleasure I haven’t had in forever.
It’s been eons. I’ve lived the life of a monk compared to most beings of my species.
I’m a god and a war demon—a creature made to fuck.
Yet, I hadn’t wanted to. Not really. I jerk off when the urge hits, but I’ve rarely touched an actual female since awakening as Zeniel. I have gone centuries without another’s touch. It had always felt wrong to me afterward, even though I never knew why.
Now . . . now I know.
Now I crave.
Fuck, Eve’s breasts were luscious in that tank top, begging for my touch. She’s a torment and a tease, luring me in without mercy.
My dick throbs, making it clear what it wants.
I’m dangerously close to admitting defeat and flashing into Eve’s bed so I can fist her hair, drag her mouth back to mine, and taste her tongue.
It doesn’t matter that she won’t be awake; she’ll be at my mercy. She’ll feel every depraved thing I want to do to her.
The mere thought is enough to send me into a lather.
I know exactly where I’ll start, too. Fuck, I can almost see her spread for me, feel her clit between my lips, throbbing under my tongue.
The tip of my dick weeps, another large drop of preum slowly sliding out. I watch it fall, jaw clenched and hips rotating softly, out of control. I ache, that’s the raw truth.
A porno Cy once forced on me almost a decade ago comes back to me. My sadistic mind warps it, replacing the female with Evesse, and the thought of her on her knees before me has my hand shooting down to fist my shaft.
No fighting it. I moan, arching into the movement and thrusting.
My thumb skims softly across one pounding vein. I hiss, imagining it’s Eve’s tongue. Will she close her eyes in rapture, or stare brazenly up at me as she laves my cock? Better yet, what will she look like as she straddles and rides me?
“Shit. Fuck . . . Evesse.”
My knees tremble. The muscles in my lower body shake with strain, and my ass cheeks tense with the effort of holding me steady. I flex my hips and fuck my fist. The hold I have on my dick becomes brutal and, ah gods, it’s amazing. Pleasure spirals through my groin, pulsing.
“Fuck . . .”
A groan scrapes its way out of my throat as I imagine Eve bouncing on my shaft with sheer abandon. And she will. I fucking know she will. She’ll writhe on my cock until she milks every drop out of me.
“Evesse. Oh, shit!” An orgasm blasts straight out of my sack, hitting me unaware. My shaft expands painfully with each wave of seed that shoots out of me, and I collapse into the wall. “Take me. Take all of it.”
I ramble and grunt as I fuck my fist hard, my body pumping into the release even as my mind jumps in several different directions. Razor-sharp, the pleasure burns me like addicting fire.
I curl into myself, Evesse’s name leaving me like a prayer amidst all the sensation.
My body keeps on at it, spurting thick jets of cum from my tip. Gods damn, it’s as if I haven’t come in ages.
In reality, I’ve been fucking my fist since I first saw that gorgeous pain in the ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper harshly, convulsing so hard that I hear the marble floor cracking beneath me.
I command my hand to stop. The fucker tightens around my dick instead, and three rough strokes send another mini-orgasm coursing through me.
“Holy shit.” What the fuck was that?
My mind goes blissfully blank. My needs—Mavrak’s needs—they’re all met, and peace follows the rush of relief that washes over me.
Contentment. Nirvana. Enlightenment.
Each is about reaching a state of ultimate peace. I’ve reached them all in my existence, even if temporarily. But none compare to the way I feel at this moment.
Minutes pass with me sprawled on the shower floor, my eyes unblinking and frozen on the ceiling. I’m seriously tempted to let the serenity lull me to sleep.
When I finally blink, however, the cold water leaks into my eyes. The mild irritation is enough to bring some life back into me. I will the water off.
Cyake’s voice booms through the bathroom door. “You ordered something, big guy?”
Great.
Cy’s words are innocent enough, but I know that tone. That asshole heard me jerking off.
A few mental commands later, I’m dry, and dressed, glaring at Cy from my open bedroom door.
Cy is out in the hall, leaning against the wall. He holds out what looks like nothing more than a wound-up, thin silk ribbon. “Ask, and ye shall receive.”
My eyes lock with Cyake’s—Mavrak roars back to life, clawing frantically at the tenuous control I found only moments ago. Hissing, I avert my eyes and clench them shut.
“Give them to me.” I hold my hand out blindly. “Give them to me and leave, now.” I feel the binding slide into my hand.
“Maybe you should just let him punish me. It’s my fault you’re like this.”
“Shut the hell up. The Fates wanted me like this. Not you.”
Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2 Page 30