by Kate Hill
It was a crazy dream. Such a thing would not happen. He was the God of Death and Fertility. The netherworld was his kingdom.
Kingdom. Chand laughed bitterly. My prison.
While part of him had always belonged to the netherworld in a way none of the other deities understood, he didn’t want to be trapped there forever, amidst hatred and pain. There he was alone among the worst souls in existence. Sometimes less evil souls spent time there, paying off their debts until the God of Gods called them to the heavens.
Sometimes Chand would accompany them across the black ocean to meet his brother, the God of Love, and spend time with his fellow deities. Refreshed, he would return to the netherworld where he would meet the dead, either sending them to the depths or directing them across the murky waters to paradise.
Enjoyment was rare in the netherworld, and the touch of another creature almost nonexistent. None of the other deities ever ventured into his world to offer him company. Sometimes he would ride his giant gray wolf, Soma, across the black sand beach. Though a beast, she offered some contact, some connection to a living, breathing being. Even Soma had a family to return to, deep in the forest of the netherworld.
Chand’s own arrogance and insatiable lust had destroyed the chance to be with his fellow deities. Always spiteful and arrogant, even for god, his antics had caught up with him, though he felt the others had been unjust in their punishment.
Several thousand years of separation would have been sufficient, driving him nearly mad with loneliness. No. That wasn’t enough to satisfy their wrath. They had imprisoned him for eternity, except for the ritual discovered by the priests.
He was surprised the other deities had been stupid enough to allow him even that tiny respite, or perhaps his father had forced them to do it.
It didn’t matter. At least it was a taste of freedom, but at what cost?
The women of his harem weren’t aware that they would become food for parasites. The idea of the priests feeding off of Tamanna was especially unsettling.
What’s wrong, Great Chand? Kabir’s voice taunted him. Is Tamanna making you realize the true horror of your life?
“I don’t need her to remind me about the torments of my life,” Chand raged aloud, too lost in feeling to converse in silence. “Over two thousand years trapped in the netherworld and you think I don’t know the meaning of horror?”
Yet you choose each year to lure more women into this hell on earth, where they become the victims of the priests.
“One week a year in sunlight. One week to feel mortal flesh. Is that too much to ask? You cannot reprimand me, boy, not when you spend all year among the living.”
You call this living? Trapped in an immortal body created by you, unable to leave this temple?
“You can eat, drink, enjoy the company of the women. The waters in which you bathe aren’t black and filled with souls waiting to claw your flesh to the bone. Do you have any idea what it’s like, boy?”
Yes. I share your memories, Lust God, but you cannot let this continue. You were born a deity, born to rule the netherworld. You cannot keep feeding the priests’ evil.
In spite of his harsh words, Kabir’s rage had turned to pity. That only angered Chand more.
“Leave me! Leave me,” he roared, forcing Kabir into submission.
Nearly bursting with fury, Chand strode to the marble altar and struck it with his fists. After several fierce blows, the marble cracked. He continued pounding until the altar lay in pieces. In spite of his godlike strength, in this world Chand’s flesh was still human. His hands were swollen, bruised, and bloody. They throbbed mercilessly, but the pain dulled the other, more agonizing emotions he’d been experiencing.
Sinking to the floor, he rested his head against the damp stone wall.
After a moment, he became aware of someone pounding on the door.
“My Lord,” Tamanna called.
“I told you to leave me,” he growled, not bothering to open his eyes until the door creaked open.
He glared at Tamanna, who glanced from the smashed altar to him. Outside the door, the priests stared in, their faces paler than usual.
Chand glared at them. “Get out.”
In spite of his low tone, his voice dripped rage. The priests scurried off.
Tamanna knelt beside him, grasping one of his hands and inspecting the bleeding knuckles.
“What must I do to make you listen when I speak?” he snapped, pulling his hand away. “Do you need punishment?”
“I’ve already enlisted for a lifetime of punishment by coming here,” she said. “Now for once I want you to keep silent, Lust God, and let me help you.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what help a weak little mortal could offer, but something inexplicable stopped him. He gazed at her, his pulse quickening.
She had picked up another of his hands and was examining it carefully, her eyelashes lowered. The soft curve of her cheek beckoned him to kiss it, but he refrained.
“Come with me.” She stood, still holding his hand.
He followed like some colossal fool who existed for her command alone.
Back in his chamber, she asked him to sit on the bed. She filled a basin of water, took a small knife from the table and several towels, then sat beside him. She used the knife to cut one of the towels into strips.
Taking his hand, she gently pulled out pieces of marble embedded in the flesh, then washed the raw injuries and wrapped them. By the time she’d finished with all four hands, Chand’s anger had faded completely, replaced by a feeling he couldn’t fathom. It was heavy yet light at the time. It wrapped around his chest and tightened while making his belly flutter and his heart pound.
Neither had spoken while she worked, and after she’d finished, Tamanna moved to sit on his lap. Her arms draped around his neck and she rested her head against his shoulder while he enfolded her in his snug embrace.
“Would you tell me what upset you?” she asked softly.
He shook his head the slightest bit. “Not now.”
Her fingers began stroking the back of his neck. Chand’s eyes slipped shut and he enjoyed her closeness, the scent of her perfumed flesh, and the gentle fanning of her breath against his chest.
“I… apologize for speaking harshly to you earlier,” he said, the words feeling strange on his tongue. Chand had never said he was sorry for anything -- not that there hadn’t been instances when he should have apologized. There were probably more than he cared to count, but he was Lord of the Netherworld. Regret was a sign of weakness and he could show none.
“It’s all right, My Lord.” She tightened her grip on him and kissed his cheek.
“Chand.”
“My Lord?”
“Call me Chand, just as you do when you cry out my name when we make love.”
Tamanna giggled. “Noticed that, did you?”
He shifted position and their gazes met. “I wait for it.”
She looked about to speak, but seemed to change her mind.
“What, Tamanna?”
“I was just thinking that I wish you would visit this world more often than once a year. It will be torture waiting so long to see you again.”
“Don’t think about that now,” he said, another pang of that inexplicable emotion tearing through him. She was right. Not seeing her for an entire year would be torture.
* * *
That night, after Chand left with the promise to return later, Tamanna bathed while contemplating his earlier fit of temper in the dungeon. She began to realize there was far more to the Lust God than an appetite for sex and power. The vague expressions of loneliness and pain in his eyes appeared stronger and more frequently. Their conversation about the other gods seemed to have upset him, so she decided not to mention them again unless he did.
Chand aroused her more than any man she had ever known, but he also confused her. One minute he provoked her anger, the next he stirred her sympathy. Sometimes he made her feel content and
protected, and at other times she wanted to wipe away his sadness and make him happy. She knew she gave him physical pleasure, yet he never looked content. He was either preoccupied, angry, or sad. Even during their conversations when he occasionally smiled, it never quite reached his eyes. Oh, she didn’t doubt her questions and comments amused him every now and then, but something prevented him from enjoying their time together. He almost seemed afraid of letting go of his emotions outside of mating.
Chand was late coming to dinner that night. Once she’d finished bathing, she wrapped herself in a robe and sat at the table, her gaze switching from their meal to the door.
Finally, he stepped inside.
She offered him a warm smile. “Good evening, Chand.”
“Tamanna.” He joined her at the table, pouring wine for them and offering her the first choice of food.
Strange. It was the first time he had done the serving.
They ate in silence. She noticed he refilled his goblet several times. Unusual for him.
“You’re oddly quiet tonight,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. “No more probing questions?”
“No. Not tonight.”
“Then it’s my turn.” He curled his lip a bit, took a long swallow of wine, and placed the goblet down. One of his slender fingers rimmed its edge. “Why did you decide to give up your life in the village and come here, Tamanna? Tell me the truth. Was it for wealth?”
“No.” His attitude and question took her off guard. What was wrong with him tonight?
“A sense of duty to the priests?” He sneered the word.
“No.”
“Your family wished you to come.”
“My family is long dead.”
He raised one of his savagely arched eyebrows. “Really? You have no one? Relatives, friends?”
“No. I lived on the outskirts of the village in the hut where I was raised. I farmed and fished. It was a good enough life, but lonely.”
“Don’t tell me you came here to avoid loneliness?”
“I came here because you raised my interest. Last year, during the selection ceremony, when our eyes met, I knew I had to be with you, even for a week.”
“Then it was sex with a god you wanted.”
“It was sex with you. It was the chance to know you, Chand. I should not presume to guess the thoughts of a god --”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“But I believe you felt the same about me.”
“I didn’t choose you last year.”
Tamanna lowered her gaze and sighed. She would get nowhere with him. It was like talking to a hurt, stubborn, spoiled child.
“I cannot bind myself to just one woman. You understood that when you came here.”
“Yes.” Once again she looked at him. “But why is that? Because you think no woman is good enough to fulfill your needs?”
He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and released it slowly.
“In spite of everything, I care for you, Chand. You’re so accustomed to being worshipped that you have no idea what it’s like to be loved. That’s sad, even for a god. I know you can punish me for speaking my mind, for initiating a touch between us, for --”
“I would not punish you, Tamanna. Not ever. Your boldness is what makes you stand apart, like a beautiful, wild wolf among tame dogs.”
Strangely, his words pleased her. She didn’t resist when he swept her into his arms and kissed her.
Tamanna entangled her fingers in his hair, only letting go when he placed her on the bed and loomed above her. His gaze swept her body while his hand stroked her from breast to hip. The warmth and gentleness of his touch was an arousing contrast to the starving look in his eyes.
His hand covered her soft mound, stroking through the tight curls. His thumb slipped into her pussy, gathering moisture that he used to tease her clit.
“Please,” she whispered, her eyes slipping shut.
The bed lurched slightly as he settled between her legs, his hands steadying her hips and stroking her thighs while his mouth covered her clit. With each stroke of his tongue, she moaned softly, her fingers weaving through his hair.
He relentlessly licked and sucked her sensitive flesh, pushing her toward a mind-shattering orgasm.
“Oh, Chand,” she cried, convulsing with pleasure.
Swiftly, he covered her body with his and thrust his cock into her throbbing pussy. Supporting himself with two arms, he used his free hands to stroke her breasts. His fingers and thumbs gently pinched and rolled her nipples.
Locking her legs around his waist, she met him thrust for thrust. Her hands tightened on his back, feeling the marvelous tension in his powerful muscles.
“Chand, yes, My Lord. Oh, yes,” she panted, feeling the frantic building of a second orgasm only seconds after the first waned.
“Tamanna,” he growled, his voice heavy with passion. “What have you done to me, woman?”
She was beyond thought and no longer able to form coherent words. She simply moaned and gasped, clinging to him tightly.
Seconds after she came, he emptied his essence into her. He collapsed atop her, but rolled onto his side, still holding her close so that she lay half draped across his body.
Tamanna rested her head against Chand’s chest, content and relaxed. He remained so still that she thought he had fallen asleep until he began stroking her hair.
“I’m going to tell you something, Tamanna, something every woman in my harem hears from my lips when our week together ends.”
She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. “But we still have two days.”
“While I talk, I don’t want you to interrupt. Not this time. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I will tell you what I’ve told the other women, then I will tell you something I’ve never told anyone else.” Still stroking her hair, he paused for so long she was almost tempted to speak, but held her tongue. Finally he continued, “For a century your people have believed that I demand the Copulisiac Ritual in return for saving you from disease. The truth is, there never was a disease. The priests poisoned the people and spun a lie about the plague to ensure participants in the ritual.”
Confusion and anger churned inside her. Why did Chand and the priests lie?
“The priests summoned me through a dark ritual that allows me to walk the earth and experience the pleasures of mortal contact, but only for a week. After that, I return to the netherworld. In exchange for this reprieve, the priests feed off my blood and embrace immortality. Once they taste my essence, they are no longer men, but beasts that must drink mortal blood in order to survive. That is why the women must remain in the temple after the Copulisiac Ritual. The priests drink their blood.”
For a moment Tamanna thought she might be ill. She sat up and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
“Let go of me,” she murmured, her voice dripping disgust.
“You promised to hear me out.”
“That was when I thought you had a shred of decency within you. After you make love to us, you throw us to those demons who call themselves holy men.”
“The priests take a minimal amount of blood and it is painless, otherwise I would not allow it. The women of my harem are treated with respect --”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word!” She spat in his face.
He used one of his free hands to wipe the spittle away, but continued holding her, though she felt his anger in the tightness of his grip and saw it blazing in his golden eyes.
Panting with rage, she took a moment to think over his words. Finally, she asked, “Why do you need the priests to summon you?”
“This is what I have told no one else,” he continued through gritted teeth. “I have been cursed by the other deities, condemned to remain in the netherworld for eternity, barred from the physical touch of gods and humankind, and I need to feel, Tamanna. For the God of Lust to spend eternity alone is the worst punishment they could have chosen, and they knew it.”<
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Desperation such as she never imagined to see marked his proud face. In spite of her anger, she couldn’t help feeling a touch of pity. She couldn’t imagine a man like Chand, who relished lovemaking, to be trapped in the netherworld, empty of everything but the souls of the damned.
“Two thousand years I waited in exile. A century ago, when the priests stumbled upon the ritual and summoned me --”
“You couldn’t resist,” she murmured. “I understand, Chand, but that doesn’t make what you’re doing right.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, finally releasing her and leaving the bed. He paced the room like a trapped animal.
“What crime did you commit for the other gods to punish you like this?” she asked, though she was almost afraid to know.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and turned his face toward the ceiling, his fists clenched. “I flirted with the wives of several other deities.”
“They banished the God of Lust for flirting?” She sounded incredulous. “Nothing more?”
“I bedded some of them, too, but only the ones who willingly accepted my advances.”
“How many?”
“Two hundred.”
“Two hundred?” she said, her voice just shy of a bellow.
“Not including the wives of lesser gods.”
“I won’t even ask for a number there.” She held up her hands in mock defense. “Why didn’t you save your games for unmarried women, or take a wife of your own?”
“I never found a woman I wanted to ally myself with for eternity,” he said, holding her gaze for several heartbeats, during which she almost thought he was going to speak again. Instead, he glanced away and continued his pacing. “I know I should not have done what I did, but to exile me forever?”
“They won’t consider lightening your sentence?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Several of my brothers are very jealous. If a god could be killed, they would have sentenced me to death.”
Tamanna sat on the bed, hugging her knees tightly. Though angry at his part in the priests’ deception, she almost couldn’t blame him for taking the few short days of freedom that seemed so little when matched against eternal loneliness.
“I will not let them take your blood,” he murmured.