by Moira Sutton
On and on it went. For five days, she lived as his prisoner. Every day she slept when he said sleep and ate when he said eat, and every night he would push her to the very edge, but he never let her go over, not until she begged. But she didn’t. She held out.
He lost interest in Mina after the third night and no more soldiers were called in. Instead, Mina stayed in her magical sleep, still as a statue at the far side of the tent while Toric did everything in his power to get Zoa to crack. Everything, that is, except actually enter her.
Oh, she’d tasted his cock plenty, had it dragged over her and teased against her entrance, but he never once put himself in her. At the beginning, she’d thought he wasn’t interested, but by the fourth day she knew his expressions well enough to see it was killing him not to do it and that knowledge gave her a fresh burst of strength. Maybe he wasn’t as in control as he seemed. So she held on to her resolve and did not beg, no matter how much her body hated her for it. The way Zoa saw it, this was a fitting revenge against the damn thing for betraying her in the first place.
On the sixth night, Toric was clearly nearing the end of his patience. He came in to the tent alone, waking her up with a grumbled command. She’d always assumed he was sleeping when she did, but now that she saw him, she wasn’t so sure. His face was drawn with tiredness, but his brown eyes were almost wild. He grabbed her hard and yanked her up, slamming his hard cock into her mouth before she was fully awake.
“Tonight, little bird,” he whispered, pumping into her with a vicious thrust. “Tonight, you will beg for me, or I will abandon you in the fields and leave you to your misery.” He thrust again. “I’ve brought you to the edge too many times now. Dezira’s Chosen can sleep for a long time, but not forever. Eventually they go mad from the longing. Their power corrupts and they become monsters who have to be put down.” Another thrust. “Normally, you would have many years before that happened, but not anymore. You’ve been around me too long. There is nothing so dangerous for an unawakened Chosen of Dezira than to have another Chosen in close proximity and not reach orgasm. Getting so close speeds the corruption. Even now, I can see it eating at you, nibbling your aura away.”
He thrust again, closing his eyes. “Dezira is angry with me for playing with you, but she thinks my desire will win over my control, that I am her Chosen before I am myself, but there she is wrong.” He grabbed Zoa and hauled her up. “You are mine,” he hissed, baring his teeth at her. “Mine, little bird. Mine forever. And if I cannot have you, then no one can. Not even Dezira herself.”
A flash of anger rolled through her at his words, hot and alien, like it wasn’t her own. Still, Zoa’s emotions had been all over the place since this began and she would have dismissed it had she not also seen the anger flash in Toric’s eyes.
He dropped her like a hot brand, clutching his head as he staggered. “You can be angry all you like,” he said, throwing back his head so he was look up through the small hole at the very top of the tent at the white moon above. “But you Chose me, cruel Lady! You gave me the power to take whatever I desire, you can’t punish me now because my desires don’t match your own.”
He looked at Zoa then and his lust hit her so strongly she fell back on the cushions. Toric was on top of her in an instant, his hard, heavy body crushing her beneath its weight. He glared down at her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to hit her again. But it wasn’t his fist that landed on her face. It was his lips.
The whole time she’d been in his power, he’d never once kissed her, but he did now. The kiss was as hard as everything else and strangely inexperienced. Suddenly, as his tongue clumsily invaded her mouth, Zoa got the feeling that Toric had never actually kissed anyone before.
The kiss broke as violently as it had started and Toric sat back on his knees above her, shaking himself like he was trying to clear his head. The motion must not have worked, because his voice was thick and strange when he spoke at last. “She thinks she can control me,” he said, his brown eyes nearly black with lust as he looked down at her. “But I won’t give you to her unless I know for certain that I’m getting you back on my terms. You will be mine.”
But even as the words left him, lust stronger than anything he’d called before landed on the both of them like a lead weight. They groaned together, and then Toric ripped off his shirt, pants, and boots. Naked, he stretched out on top of her again, his throbbing cock pressed against her entrance as it had been many times before, but this time, Zoa realized that it was Toric, and not her, who was fighting. That realization hit her as hard as the lust, and with it, a warm, bright confidence blossomed in her chest.
And then, sudden as the moon breaking through the clouds, Zoa knew how to get free.
He was so much stronger than her, so much faster, his weight pinning him down. But with the moon-driven lust running through them both, the power had shifted and Zoa was the one who came out on top. With a slight wiggle of her hips, she shifted down and Toric slid into her.
The joining made her gasp, but it was Toric who seemed to feel it most. He cried out as he entered her, his hands grabbing her hips. For a second, Zoa thought he was going to fling her away, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed hold and began to thrust.
What happened next was nothing like the nights before. There was no more control, no more coldness. Toric was an animal on top of her, driven mad by the wild lust. There was no art in his pounding, no care or skill. It was pure instinct, a man reduced to his basest aspects. He kissed her as he rode her, his mouth hard and demanding, his breathing ragged. He bruised her with his roughness, but even that didn’t stop the wild pleasure that was building, and before the tenth stroke landed, the release Toric had teased for so long broke over them both.
Zoa came in an explosion of pent-up power. The wave shot out in all directions, making the soldiers shout and Mina moan in her sleep. But it was Toric, trapped at the epicenter, who was hit hardest of all. He came with a furious shout, spilling himself into her. His eyes slammed open as he did, and Zoa caught a fleeting glimpse of burning fury and deep, bitter loss before the world fell away.
When she opened her eyes again, she was standing naked in a moonlit field with a warm breeze caressing her skin.
“I am sorry.”
The voice was beautiful as glass bells, but so sudden and angry it made Zoa jump. She whirled around to see a woman standing in the shadow of a large apple tree, her body half in light, half in shadow as she paced angrily back and forth.
“He should have known better,” the woman snapped. “You are mine. He had no right to keep you from me.” She stopped with an angry breath, and then turned on Zoa. “Do you know who I am?”
Zoa bowed her head. “You are Dezira,” she whispered, her voice trembling. For truly, who else could it be?
The goddess breathed a long sigh and the breeze picked up.
“I am so sorry, beloved,” she whispered, turning to walk toward Zoa, moonlight and shadow dappling over her body as she closed the distance. “Toric has always been willful, but I do not Choose my Avatars from the weak. I thought if he had someone who could understand him, someone kind he could desire, he might find his peace. My dark moons are always my strongest, but they are so hard to manage. They are made to take and hold, while my white moons are meant to yield and protect. Two halves in balance.”
She stopped and looked up, regarding Zoa with one beautiful eye in light and one in flashing shadow. “I’d thought that you would be the one who could finally balance him,” Dezira said, her voice frustrated. “I should have known better. All that man cares for is power. It was a mistake to think he could desire anything else. He wanted you more than any other from the moment he saw you, just as I knew he would, and still, all he wanted was to command you, to make you beg.”
The goddess made a disgusted sound, and then, like a cloud blown in a high wind, the fury fell from her face. “No more of him,” she said, her voice now soft as moonlight. “I have done you great wrong, my beaut
iful, beloved Zoa, but I promise I will make it up to you. I will give you twice what he could have been, but for now,” she raised her moonlit arm and held out a beautiful, white hand to Zoa. “Come to me, my Chosen. Come and take your power at last.”
Zoa looked at the hand and her body began to tremble. “What will happen?” she whispered.
“Only what was always meant to be,” the goddess answered. “I don’t even have to ask to know your desire. You were made to love and be loved, to inspire the love of others to ever greater heights.”
The goddess’s words were encouraging, but still, Zoa hesitated. Toric had said she would be like him and she could never do that. Never.
“You will not be like him,” Dezira said. “As he is a dark moon through and through, you are a white moon born.”
The fear must have still shone in Zoa’s eyes, because the goddess sighed softly. “I am not known for my kindness,” she said, her lovely voice sad and bitter. “But even I know this was an unkind Awakening. Now you’ll be tied to that man forever, but while I cannot break a bond already formed, I can promise you that, no matter what he says, that bond gives him no power over you. You are my Avatar, Zoa, and his equal. He will never have power over you unless you give it to him. Again, I am sorry, and again, I promise I will make it up to you, but for now, leave that man to his rage and his darkness. He deserves no better and he certainly doesn’t deserve you.” The goddess lifted her chin and the white half of her face broke into a beautiful smile. “You belong to me.”
The light in that smile washed away her fear and Zoa stepped forward, bringing her forehead up to brush the goddess’s outstretched hand. The moment they touched, white light filled the field as a white moon more brilliant than the orb that hung in the sky flashed to life on Zoa’s skin. Beautiful, warm radiance washed over Zoa’s body, burning everything away in painless fire until she was made again, shivering like an infant under the goddess’s gaze. The silver eye Zoa could see softened at the sight, and then the goddess’s hands, the white one and the hand covered in shadow, dropped to Zoa’s own, drawing them up as the goddess kissed her fingers.
The slight touch was enough to make Zoa’s knees go weak with desire, but the goddess held her up like a pillar, and she did not fall.
“You are my Own, Zoa,” Dezira whispered. “Marked as mine forever. Now go and be free. Live as you desire, and you shall do my work in the world.”
Zoa started to ask what work she was meant to do, but as her lips opened, the goddess vanished. So did the tree and the field and Zoa found herself lying on her back on the pallet with Toric sitting beside her, his head in his hands.
“Don’t speak,” he whispered.
“I have nothing to say,” Zoa said, standing up.
“Then why are you talking?” Toric snarled, spinning to glare at her.
Zoa gave him a glare of her own. “So you will know I do not keep my silence out of obedience to you.”
He scowled at her words, but his eyes were no longer locked on hers. Instead, he was staring at her forehead and his face fell into something very close to despair. “A white moon,” he said, his voice cold and dry as long dead ashes. “Of course. What else would it be?”
Zoa said nothing else. She simply turned, grabbed two coats from his own trunk and ran to her sister. Mina woke when Zoa touched her, blinking groggily. “Zoa?” she whispered. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Never mind now,” Zoa said, helping Mina into the coat. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”
She dragged Mina up and they fled the tent together. Toric made no move to chase them. He never moved at all, just sat on the edge of his pallet like a statue, staring at Zoa as she pulled her sister into the night.
The full moon lit their way. It was well past midnight and the whole camp was drunk. They slipped out easily. Zoa stole a horse from the end of the picket line. She pulled herself up and then pulled Mina up as well, marveling at her own strength as she did. The moon was no longer shining on her forehead, but she could feel the goddess’s power flowing through her, washing away the aches and the tiredness as they rode quietly out into the plains.
Silas, head of the order of Dezira’s Chosen, found them the next day. He appeared as if from nowhere, riding straight at them across the hills with a full retinue of Temple acolytes. Zoa tried to run when she saw him, but Silas caught her after only a moment’s chase, and from that point on, he took care of everything.
Mina didn’t remember anything after the first lust spell, and Zoa, after much agonizing, finally decided not to tell her what had happened. What good would the truth do, anyway? Silas assured her privately that he had purified Mina, cleansing her of disease and any chance of pregnancy from the soldiers. There would be no fallout unless Zoa made it, so Zoa held her silence, and when Silas brought them home at last, Zoa kissed her father and sister farewell with wide, fake smiles and left her village with great honors to take her place in the temple as a Chosen of Dezira.
The whole time she had been his prisoner, the dark moon Chosen had never told her his name. It was Silas who told her it was Toric Vallus, and the moment he spoke it, that name became the label for all of the angry, guilty, painfully confusing knots those six days had left inside her. Thankfully, as a member of the Imperial family, Toric did not come to the temple or obey its edicts, and Zoa was happy to put him out of her mind.
Then, a few months after her Awakening, a courier arrived at the Temple of Dezira with a sandalwood box. The gift had no name, no markings of any kind, but the courier was dressed in the purple of House Vallus and would give the box to no one except Zoa herself, which was sign enough of the giver. Zoa let it sit in the corner of her room for almost a week before she worked up the courage to open it. When she did, what was inside took her breath away.
It was a dress, cut from the most beautiful sheer silk she’d ever seen in a breathtaking shade of deep purple. Its stitching was so tiny it was nearly invisible, and the edges were lined with beetle-shell beads that clacked softly with every movement. The cloth was so fine it slipped between her fingers like water, and when her hands stopped shaking long enough for her to slide the dress on, Zoa found it had been made perfectly to her measurements.
She’d looked at herself in the polished silver mirror for a long time after that. A dress like this must have cost a fortune. The cost of the dye alone was likely more than her father made in ten years. Even so, she almost threw it away. In the end, though, it was the dress’s beauty, not its cost, that stayed her hand. It looked so lovely on her, so perfectly fitted, the deep purple turning her pale skin to alabaster, that even knowing who it was from, Zoa couldn’t bear to throw it away. But she couldn’t bear to wear it out of her room either. Finally, after days of going back and forth, Zoa put it back and tucked the sandalwood box deep at the bottom of her trunk.
For years, she would wonder what the gift meant. The care taken in its making as well as the precise fit spoke of Toric’s personal involvement, and he wasn’t a man who wasted his time. But was it an apology or a final barb? After much consideration, Zoa decided it was a little of both, and though she hated it sometimes, she never threw the dress away. And when it came time for her to bring an Avatar into power herself, she’d known it was the only garment suited for the task. She’d thought maybe by wearing it for a proper Awakening, performed with love and reverent care as it should be, she could wash away the stain of her own.
A good sentiment, too bad it hadn’t worked.
* * * * *
“Don’t you see?” Zoa said as her story finished. “After all he did to me, all he did to my sister, I enjoyed it. I never begged him like he wanted, I kept that much, but I wanted him every second I was in his presence. Even at the end, when his head was in his hands, I almost wanted to comfort him.”
Saying it aloud made it seem even crazier. The story had taken a long time to tell, but neither Jeric or Izar had said a single word the whole time. Zoa had never told the story th
at fully before, not even to Silas. She’d never admitted that it had been she who’d slid herself onto Toric’s cock, never whispered how much she’d wanted him. Even thinking about it made Zoa feel dirty and twisted, but here, with Toric’s power roaring through the bond even Dezira couldn’t break, she’d had no choice. She’d told the whole, ugly, naked truth of her shame, and now she couldn’t even look at her lovers, if lovers they were anymore now that they knew what she was.
It was Jeric who broke the silence at last, and what he said caught her by surprise. “Of course you wanted to comfort him.”
Her head snapped up. Jeric must have been waiting for it, for he caught her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “You wanted to comfort him because you are a kind, good person, Zoa. That was why Dezira sent you to him. Didn’t you listen to our Lady? You were made to love and be loved. Everything Toric did was a perversion of that and you were powerless to stop him, but you still won in the end. You took your power and you escaped. He was the one left with nothing.”
Zoa began to shake against his touch, but Jeric didn’t let her go. Izar’s arms slipped around her waist as well and the two men held her tight as Jeric told her another truth, his own.
“I know better than any how impossible it is to resist a Chosen as an unawakened Avatar,” he said. “From the second I saw you, Zoa, I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. You could have crushed me under your foot and I would have thanked you for it. It was the call of the Moon, and I could no more fight it than you could when Toric used it to try to break you. But even with that behind him, he failed.”
“He didn’t,” Zoa protested. “I wanted him. Had my sister not been there, I would have fallen, I know it.”