Embrace the Desire

by Spring Stevens

  “Is there nothing I can do to ease your pain?” She looked up and took his chin, looked into his eyes. “Is there nothing I can do to make you want to come back? To make you stay?”

  Payne closed his eyes and a lie fell from his tongue. “No.”

  There was something she could do, but he would never ask her for it. There was one thing in this life he wanted more than anything, to be loved. Just once, to be loved for who and what he was, to be cherished by someone, but that would never happen. He was the devil’s son.

  Chapter 29

  Bastilla appeared in the late hours of the night in front of the apartment that Payne had been lurking around. She grinned as she thought of Payne; right now, she was so close to having him back, so very close to ending Damon’s miserable life. Pushing the doorbell, she knew she would have to hurry before Payne showed up and ruined it all.

  She smiled as Chanta answered the door. She was such a pretty little thing with her mop of white blonde curls and big gray eyes. Nonetheless, the sight of her made Bastilla want to vomit.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if we could talk a few minutes. It seems I’m in a bit of a pinch.”

  “How can I help?” Chanta smiled, which infuriated Bastilla, but she managed to keep her cool.

  “I’m a member of the One Race, just like you and I need help.”

  Chanta smiled again as she stepped back and opened the door wide. “Of course, come on in. My name is Chanta. What’s yours?”

  Bastilla smiled back entering the doorway. “I’m Bastilla.”

  Seeing the downcast look on Chanta’s face brightened Bastilla’s heart. So, the little witch had heard of her it seemed. Several seconds passed as Chanta searched Bastilla’s face before finally closing the door and offering her a seat.

  “Payne isn’t here.” Chanta crossed her arms over her stomach clearly showing her defense. “He left this morning.”

  “I’m aware that he did.” Bastilla smiled softly. “I just wanted to meet you.”

  Suspicion crossed Chanta’s face. “Why?”

  “Because Damon is still in love with you.” Bastilla wanted to puke as soon as the words left her mouth. Damon and love? The two words should never be uttered in the same sentence. “I came to see if you still had feelings for Damon or if for some unknown illogical reason you have feelings for Payne.”

  “I have no need or desire to speak of Damon to you. If it’s Payne you’re after, you’ll have to find him somewhere else. Like I said before, he isn’t here.”

  Bastilla gritted her teeth. Chanta was everything she was not. But more importantly, she was standing in Bastilla’s way. By killing her, Bastilla took care of two birds with one stone, a sweet little revenge against Damon and the means to pull Payne back into her arms.

  “He still loves me. I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of this situation. I recently regained my freedom from Damon and I’m sure that you’ll agree there’s no sense in you getting hurt in the process of Payne and me getting back on track with one another.” Bastilla let a fake tear slide down her cheek. “I have waited so many lifetimes to be in his arms again.”

  “I’m sure you have.” Chanta went to the door. “I can’t honestly say where you can find him.”

  “Do you mind if I sit for a while?” Bastilla looked at her couch. “I have not taken the time to get used to being back on earth.” She slowly sat down before giving Chanta a chance to answer. “I am tired as I have been non-stop in my search for Payne.”

  • • •

  Chanta swallowed harder than she ever had in her entire life. “I’m fixing a sandwich, do you want one?”

  “No, I don’t believe I do, but . . . ”

  “Yes,” answered Chanta over her shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen. “I have some left over pizza if you want.”

  Bastilla pulled a dagger from her hip as she stood and walked into the kitchen. “No, I just want you to know that I am Payne’s lover and it’s always been me that he loves.”

  Chanta turned and stepped back as Bastilla lunged forward with the dagger. The bread in her hand tumbled to the floor as she went to her knees and scrambled to her left. Bastilla caught her by the hair and pulled her back. Chanta screamed and tried to stand.

  Cold laughter filled Chanta’s ears as she grabbed the counter and pulled herself to her feet. She twisted and Bastilla let her hair go. Chanta bolted to the drawer below the breadbox and grabbed a knife. As she turned, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Payne appear. Bastilla lunged again and sliced into Chanta’s arm as Payne grabbed her by the throat baring every inch of his glorious fangs.

  Chanta ran towards the living room and glanced over her shoulder as Payne threw the woman into the wall by the refrigerator. Her arm was dripping and aching, but it still had not registered with her as she turned to face the battle in her kitchen. What the hell was going on?

  With a deep breath, Chanta cursed. She was a demi-goddess now with powers, why hadn’t she thought of that when the witch had attacked her?

  Payne grabbed Bastilla and cursed as she shimmered and disappeared. Chanta went to her knees still holding the knife in her hand. She looked down and dropped the knife grabbing the cut on her arm.

  She felt the wound healing, her skin prickling as it began to repair itself. Payne towered over her. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing, barely a scratch.”

  “What did she say to you?” When she looked up, his eyes were glowing blue.

  Chanta stood, shoved past him, and went to the living room. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” Payne took a step towards her. “She wanted something and I need to know what it was. I won’t have her coming after you.”

  Turning on her heel, she replied, “She said Damon was still in love with me and she wanted to talk . . . about you.”

  Payne simply stared at her, his lips forming a thin line as he narrowed his eyes. “Are you still in love with him? After what he did to you, is that why you refuse to stay at the sanctuary? Hopeful that he will show up on your doorstep?”

  “How dare you?” Chanta clenched her fists, felt the blood trickling down her injured arm. “You made it perfectly clear that you could care less about my life. After all, the only reason you were even here was to get your stupid wish from Varick.” She paused, too many thoughts running through her mind at once to concentrate. “Why are you even back?”

  When he spoke, she almost cowered, his voice so rough and full of male energy her knees quivered. “I came back to fucking apologize for making you feel like a piece of meat! I know the feeling all too well and I didn’t want to leave you hating me.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that the only reason you slept with me was to get that wish.” Determined not to back down, Chanta pointed at his chest. “And that woman was here for you. She’s your lover and I don’t blame her for being pissed. The only reason you slept with me was to get her back.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. She’s Damon’s whore and a witch.” Payne took two steps towards her and she took three backwards.

  “Whore? Is that what you’re going to say about me, that I was once his whore too? After all, I slept with him for two years.” Chanta laughed, a cold wind stirring around her, but she gave it little thought. “I was in love with him. Was, past tense. He lied to me and used me for his own perverse pleasure. And it makes perfect sense now, doesn’t it? I’m his worst enemy’s daughter. What better way to get some deep seated, reasons probably long ago forgotten, eternal revenge?”

  Payne grunted as he ran his hand threw his thick black hair. “He used you. You didn’t know who or what he was before you fell in love with him. I won’t place the blame on you for that.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying or even talking about. Damon wasn’t like that at first. He wasn’t . . . ” she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or Payne. Maybe both. “And why would you blame
me? Other than because he is your father.”

  Chanta held her breath, almost regretted saying it. He remained silent as he dropped his head and turned his back to her. She stepped forward cautiously.

  “You asked me if you could make me want to stay.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes swirling with the blue fire that she was beginning to love. “Did you mean that? Do you want me to stay? Or is your fascination with me only because I resemble my father?”

  Her throat tightened. “I did want you to stay, but that was before your lover showed up and tried to kill me.” With conviction, she let her emotions free, let them wrap around Payne’s mind. “And no, my feelings for you have nothing to do with Damon.”

  “She isn’t my lover.” A growl ripped from his throat as he turned and stared straight into her eyes. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with. You’re the only reason I’m hesitating to do the very thing I have lived my entire life for.”

  Before Chanta could reply, Bastilla appeared between them, a broad smile on her face. “Time for a change of plans.”

  She turned to Payne as she grabbed Chanta’s arm digging her poisonous fingernails into Chanta’s flesh. The poison invaded Chanta’s body, her muscles seizing as Bastilla shimmered and Chanta screamed Payne’s name as she disappeared with her.

  • • •

  Breathing in through his nose, Charon closed his eyes and smelled the scents that floated around the isle that he had called home for so many centuries. Endless centuries. Endless, empty, and lonesome centuries until the Book of Creation had called out to him. Since that day, something had stirred inside Charon, something different, new, and unexplainable.

  Opening his eyes, he stared at the books he had collected. He now had five of the fourteen books. Isten had ordered him to retrieve the books, but his orders mattered not to Charon although those orders should have. Charon was Isten’s grandson, blood of his blood and part of Isten’s pantheon.

  And yet, Charon gathered the books because something inside him demanded it, needed it to be done. Frustration caused his fists to clench at his sides. He couldn’t explain the need. He couldn’t explain the desires, the wants, and the ideas that were popping in and out of his head since the book called on him.

  Anger coursed through him, his arms trembling. He needed an explanation. And if it took defying Isten and all the other gods, he would do so without thought or question. A sound, eerie and deep echoed around him. He caught his breath and whirled around, searching the isle, searching the skyline . . . to see nothing.

  Speaking out loud, he tried to ground himself. “I am Charon. I have no free will, born of Isten’s blood, I must do as he commands.”

  His hood lifted and slid from his forehead revealing his glowing red eyes as the books began to hum. Charon grabbed his chest as the same hum vibrated inside of him, grew more intense as the seconds ticked by. Disorientation surged through him as he fell to his knees, a scream ripping through him.

  A power so intense and overwhelming seized him, he felt it from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He fell forward onto his palms. Every inch of his body hurt, like white hot lightning had pierced through his skin and was doing a boot-scoot-and-boogie inside his body.

  Fear rattled his brain. He had never experienced pain before or fear for that matter. A roar spilt the calmness of the isle and he realized it was his as his shoulders were jerked back with unseen tethers. On his knees, suspended there like a puppet, he saw the books’ pages fluttering, the sound growing louder as a brilliant glow flared before him.

  A tornado of molecules, shining and sparking, whirled faster and faster until they formed an apparition, a ghostly sight to behold. Charon’s shoulders relaxed, released from their hold. And before him stood Jaiden, the lost god of prophecy.

  Just as Charon remembered, Jaiden stood seven foot tall and was built like one of the Destroyers. After all, the Destroyers were fashioned after him. He was dressed in black, even the cane he leaned on was black. His hair was long, to his waist and as red as the blood of the humans. But it was his eyes that held Charon’s attention. They were like looking into infinity, the past, the present, and the future combined.

  Concentrating on the power swirling around the apparition, Charon spoke. “Jaiden? How?”

  Electrifying pain split through Charon’s skull. Charon grabbed his head, closed his suddenly burning eyes as Jaiden moved, and placed his ghostly hand on Charon’s shoulder.

  In a thousand voices, sharp and crystal clear, Jaiden proclaimed, “For this world to survive, I must be awoken. Gather my books. Seek and destroy all who dare to stand in your path.”

  Chapter 30

  First, there were blue flames everywhere, surrounding Chanta, invading her thoughts and whipping through her soul. Second, the sound of Bastilla screaming profanities and swearing to whatever gods would listen to her filled Chanta’s ears. And third, Chanta saw Damon.

  “Damon.” His name fell from her lips like a curse.

  The flames held her still, immobile. She was standing on a large marble star in the center of a throne room, Damon’s she was sure. In front of her, Damon had grabbed Bastilla by the hair and slapped her, hard. Blood splattered across the floor from her lips and nose.

  Bastilla laughed. “I bring you a gift and this is what I get in return?”

  He pointed towards a door and roared so loud the walls trembled. “Get out of my sight you worthless leach. How dare you make a bargain with Charon and bring this,” he looked at Chanta. “This half-breed angel into my realm.”

  Bastilla jerked away. “I’m not a fool Damon. I know you have coveted this woman for a long time. I’ve seen the way you look upon her in your cauldron.”

  Chanta winced as Damon backhanded her sending her sprawling across the floor. “You’ll be punished for this with blood and bone.”

  Bastilla stood, anger and humiliation on her face. “Aren’t I always being punished for something? At least there will be a reason this time.”

  Before Bastilla could move, Damon had her in his arms, his lips on hers. Chanta closed her eyes, heard Bastilla moan and utter things Chanta never wanted to hear again for the reminder of her life.

  “Bastard.” Chanta opened her eyes to see Damon grabbing Bastilla’s hands and a snake firmly attaching itself to both of her wrists.

  A huge male, she assumed it was male, dressed in black leather came out of the shadows and took Bastilla out of the door to Chanta’s left. Although she was kicking and screaming, the male pulled her along like a disobedient dog on a leash.

  Damon circled the star Chanta was standing on, his hands behind his back. Memories tried to surface as she watched him. Forcing them aside, she wondered what the odds were that she would survive this encounter with Damon. He came to a standstill in front of her and the flames dissipated.

  Swallowing back her disgust, Chanta glared at the snake god standing before her. She could smell the potent arousal erupting from him and even worse, it was written all over his face. She had the urge to spit in his face as his smile pulled at the corners of his black eyes. A cold chill went up her spine as his face contorted and twisted revealing the resemblance to Payne.

  “Do you remember me, Chanta?” His voice was a barely above the sound of a fog horn and she caught her breath as her past slammed into her brain like a thousand piercing needles. “Of course you do, how could you possibly have forgotten the man you once wanted to marry?”

  Anger ripped through her body and she lurched forward to attack. The heavy shackles on her wrists bit into her skin as hatred filled her heart. He was the reason she had lived so long in fear. He was the reason Gyth could never reveal he was her father. His cruel, cold laughter echoed in the room as the ground beneath her twisted under her feet.

  She looked down and a gasp of horror escaped her mouth. Thousands of dead and decaying naked bodies littered the floor. No, they were the floor. She stepped back and tears filled her eyes as Damon waved his hand, making
her face twist to the left. In the far corner, a tall, slender man with one arm and a black leather mask stood holding a large bloody axe.

  “Watch him, my beautiful half-goddess, watch him. If you dare to disobey me, it’ll be Payne on his chopping block.” Damon’s smile widened. “You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”

  Chanta closed her eyes as another lithe skinny man with a leather mask came forward with an unconscious human thrown over his shoulder. Her stomach roared and her heart thumped hard against her chest threatening to explode as her eyes were forced open. She bit her tongue and tears streamed down her face as the human was laid out onto the black chopping block. The human, a blond male, stirred and gasped in terror as he realized he was being chained to the marble.

  “Daughter of mine enemy and now lover to my son, what shall we do about this little predicament we seem to be in?”

  Chanta tried to speak, tried to beg for the human’s life, and tried to jerk from Damon’s hold. He laughed softly as he stepped closer and leaned forward as he smelled her hair. Her skin crawled as he hissed in her ear. He stared at her face as he nodded to the executioner. Her face twisted in pain as she watched the axe fall and slice through the human.

  “I so wanted to seduce you my beauty, but alas I’m not known for my patience. Close your eyes beauty and remember me as we were before.” Chanta’s stomach lurched. “Remember when we had love between us? Remember when I lay between your legs and took what you offered me.”

  Chanta screamed, no sound came and she screamed again as she remembered how he had saved her and frightened her. She remembered how he had cut her hair, how he had ripped her clothes from her body the last night she had seen him. His sharp intake of breath made Chanta’s body snap together and her brain went into overdrive.

  She willed her power, her gift from the Burning, to her hands. Sweat beaded her forehead as she felt the energy fill her fingertips. Fire leapt up her hands and melted the shackles from her wrists. Her eyes glowed bright red as she turned to face Damon with an undeniable rage.