Frozen Stiff

by L. J. Vickery

  He quirked his head toward a window. Look outside, Glory.

  She moved quickly, skirting around his chair. What exactly was his point?

  Glory blinked. Big, fat flakes fell from the summer sky. The eighty-five degree summer sky. It had to be an illusion. She looked down, and saw pedestrians on the sidewalk gawking at each other. If it was a hallucination, they suffered the same delusions as she.

  Do you want accumulation, Glory? Enten broke into her yellow-brick-road moment.

  Watch yourself, brother. Glory heard Emesh from afar. I’m all for furthering your cause with the lady, but you’re giving one of my toe’s frostbite. And calling attention to snowballs in hell usually reminds humans of their mortality. Let’s leave my summer weather alone, shall we?

  Glory agreed. “Make it stop,” she whispered. “I don’t need to see any more.”

  Enten complied.

  “God of winter,” she intoned the words flatly, trying to come to grips. “You can make it snow anywhere in the world?”

  Enten pointed her attention across the room, and produced a small, active cloud over Glory’s kitchen sink. Within a minute, it was full of snow.

  Yes, he answered.

  “It’s in you…this cold?” She eased into it, totally freaked, but determined to hear it all.

  It’s not just in me, it is me. I’m winter, in the same way my brother is summer; Marduk is thunder; and Enlil is wind. We’ve all been alive so long, things mostly run by themselves, kind of like your autonomic nervous system. Occasionally we adjust our patterns to reflect the times. Sometimes humans mess with us, as in the acceleration of global warming, and force us to change things up. I can’t say it’s always easy.”

  “So you snow like we breathe?” Glory asked in awe.

  Something like that. He watched her carefully, while she attempted to wrap her head around it and nervously licked her lips.

  “You said you’ve been alive for ‘so long.’ How old are you?” She’d been given an estimate, but Glory wasn’t sure she wanted a definitive answer. She waded knee deep in shit already.

  I’m two thousand seven hundred and ten years old, he replied with a completely straight face.

  “You look pretty good,” she quipped, bit her lip, and let out a small, hiccupped sob. A small crack appeared in Enten’s icy demeanor.

  “Who took care of business before you?” she plunged onward. “Were you born making cold?”

  There was a god before me. Enten closed his eyes, and she knew he searched his memory. I remember he was better at things than me. He was able to keep the cold separate from his everyday body. This made Enten look sad. One day, he found his Chosen and petitioned to retire. Enten shrugged. His wish was granted, and I was his only viable replacement.

  Glory tried to imagine it, but it was so far out of her realm of reality, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the situation.

  I wasn’t always stuck on frigid, he admitted. I was born with the capabilities of winter, just as my brother has summer, and when we were young, we could turn the powers on and off. That was before things started getting volatile at home. Mom and Dad were not what you would call, model gods. They were alcoholics, which is unusual for immortals, so nobody knew how to deal with them. Watching them go from stupor to stupor, not seeming to give a shit about anything anymore, I became cold more often, and my brother was consumed with warmth. Enten’s mouth quirked and he shrugged a defeated motion. We got stuck that way. It proved to be fine for Emesh. Mortals and immortals alike tend to enjoy heat, so from there on out, people gravitated to him for his sunny disposition. But they avoided me.

  Glory was appalled. She finally understood why Enten had been so distraught before. How many lovers had appreciated him and his glacial moods? Now that she saw the depth of his self-loathing, she let go of her own distrust. Glory moved toward Enten and sat on the arm of his chair.

  “Okay. I’m good. Now tell me everything about the friends you live with.”

  Enten looked taken aback that she’d dropped the line of questioning on his chilly persona, so she clarified.

  “I’m interested in how you came to be in the Blue Hills, why it is you have enemies, and how I figure into things.” She refrained from using the word Chosen again but, if at the end of his explanations, he hadn’t mentioned it, she wouldn’t let it slide this time. Glory positioned herself closely, draping her legs over his lap, and she swore she could feel some of his pain subside.

  Okay. I’ll begin with Thomas Morton, how my friends and I became bound in chains, got auctioned off, and eventually found ourselves indentured to the fine gentleman…

  Close to two hours later, Glory had long since slid down to the floor at Enten’s knee and tried to come to grips with it all. He’d totally blown her mind with the whole coming to America, failing at a god-given task, and turning invisible thing. She was more than impressed with how the gods had learned to cope.

  Without using the word, Chosen, Glory now had a good idea what it might mean, since Enten had explained she made him―as well as her long-lost ancestor Lahar―regain a physical body. He’d revealed there was something special about her, something having to do with Lahar mating a Wingfeather back in olden days. Glory and her mother had resurrected the ancestral name, dropping that of her asshole father in favor of a matriarchal designation after he had died. That explained her connection to Lahar, but her would-be ties to Enten still confused Glory.

  “Okay. I get it. Sort of.” There was a very long silence. It was time to bring up the dreaded “C” word. “Now tell me why my mother and I are being targeted by lunatics, and…” She looked directly into Enten’s cold, icy eyes. “Why does everybody keep saying I’m your Chosen?”

  If anything, Enten seemed even more reluctant to have this conversation, but she watched him battle out his trepidation and eventually suck it up enough to speak.

  To start with, gods have one woman in all of eternity who is meant to be with them. My friends and I never thought we’d find our true mates because we’ve been around for a hell of a long time without any indication of it happening. He shot her a look. She knew exactly where things headed. Glory swallowed hard and let him continue.

  Less than a year ago, Marduk found himself walking on the beach…and I mean actually walking―as in visible. Tess was there, and just like that, our lives began to change. Anshar found Lenore, Dagon found Holly, and now I’ve found you. Enten’s voice got husky with emotion. You’re it for me, Glory. The one who gives my body substance. The one the gods have decided is my one true mate. We call that person our Chosen.

  “How can you be sure?” Glory choked out in a very small voice, allowing her fingers to rest gently on his jeans clad knee.

  Besides becoming corporeal? His eyes glittered down to hers. My shoulder. Enten pointed to his left pec. When you made me…happy…in the hospital, it…well, if you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have noticed a red glow right here. Glory’s mind clicked at the same time she wanted to die of embarrassment.

  “You light up,” she marveled. Hadn’t something been mentioned about that by one of the goddesses, in a roundabout fashion?

  It’s my amulet. My life essence. You call to it, Glory, and it calls back. If you were to…if you could ever… Enten took another stab at what he tried to say. Our Chosen receives their part of the amulet in a special ceremony, and becomes our other half. It’s the most committed two beings can ever be to each other.

  Seeing the wonder in Glory’s face, Enten railed at how fate could be so cruel as to give her to him, knowing their relationship could never be consummated. If she did agree to undergo the amulet ceremony, their bonding would be in name only, albeit with the perks of hands and tongues, just never penetration. He was too damned frigid for that, and had no control. It was the reason he had to stop things with her, right now. Glory deserved a good life, a fine mate, and children. He could never give her those. He’d never understood how unselfish love could be, but now that
he loved Glory, he only wanted the best for her. Even if it meant letting her go.

  While Glory continued to draw circles on his knee, and mind-wanderingly up his leg, Enten finished his diatribe with a description of their enemy, the PP―Matthew in particular―spitting the bitter taste of that onto the already heaping pile of crap he’d shoveled into Glory’s life. What she said next was certainly not what he expected.

  “Can I see your shoulder glow?” She came to her knees and her hands grasped for the tail of his T-shirt, pulling gently upward. She urged him to lean forward in the chair to help with its disposal.

  Umm… He was at a total loss for words―and not just because of his missing voice―having prepared himself for unequivocal rejection.

  “Is there something I can do for you…like before?” she asked shyly, his shirt whisked away.

  What the hell? This time the excuse of medication couldn’t be blamed for her daring. Enten’s nostrils flared. No, he declared triumphantly, abruptly standing. But there is something I can do for you. Gods, he’d been waiting for this opportunity, and he wasn’t about to squander it.

  He pulled Glory to her feet easily, putting one arm around her back and the other under her knees, being careful of her injuries. He swept her up into his cold, hard embrace, pressing her warm body right where he wanted it to be, against his smooth icy chest. She looked afraid, but she didn’t tell him to stop. Her acquiescence told him she wanted to see where this went.

  Beach stones, he said the two words into her head and got a confused look from his mate.

  “Beach stones?” she questioned.

  Enten had seen her collection on the deep window sill, and walking toward the portal now, he positioned Glory in a way she could reach them.

  Grab two or three. He told her cryptically, and when she did, he marched her into the small kitchen area. He had her direct him to a heat-proof, glass measuring cup―which between the two of them they managed to fumble and fill with water―and microwaved it to a hot, but not uncomfortable temperature.

  Drop the stones in. He heard his mind-intonation drop an octave because of what he was about to do. It excited the hell out of him. Glory didn’t have a clue, but did as she was told, her body quivery from the promise in his head-voice alone.

  Enten made her hold the cup while he carried her to her bedroom. He got his first look at her bed, and he approved. Covered in a bright, thick, multicolored comforter and tossed with pillows, her full-size, antique-cannonball four poster looked ready and inviting. He couldn’t wait to see her naked and sprawled across it.

  Bedside table. Enten indicated she should put the hot water and rocks down, and lowered her gently. His hand groped for the snap of her jeans, waiting to hear if she wanted him to stop. Apparently she had already made up her mind.

  Glory lifted up so not only could he bring down her zipper, he could also slide the pants over and off her hips. His breathing hitched as he got his first glimpse of the slender length of her bottom half, clad only in pale rose panties and the stark white bandage at her leg. His cock was instantly hard, and he stopped moving to stand still and just stare.

  Glory, however, was on a mission, and on the move. She sat upright and dragged her T-shirt over her head, exposing a shelf bra that matched her panties. It seemed like she felt no immediate pain from her ribs.

  Enten stared at the prize before him. What he saw under the bra was a spectacularly small handful for each of his palms, and two large, brown nipples that poked clearly through the opaque material. What a sight. He swallowed painfully, while Glory sat still, holding her breath. He forced himself to pull back and tread softly.

  You’re sure about this? Enten didn’t want Glory doing anything she would later regret. She hadn’t confided in him, but he got―from the conversation he’d had with Lahar―that her asshole ex-husband with the restraining order had done something to undermine her confidence. Shit. It was like the blind leading the blind here.

  “I’m sure, Enten.” Her husky voice caressed his name, the bogeyman perhaps held at bay by his asking permission.

  He brought one hand up, and gently guided her back amongst the pillows. His fingers slid to her midriff, but this time hooked around the top of her panties and slowly lowered them down. He groaned when he saw the neatly trimmed bush that covered little but framed much. Her nether lips glistened, and he couldn’t wait for his first taste.

  With the scrap of material gone, he knelt on the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. With exquisite slowness, he moved them apart, revealing her pussy to his starving eyes. So fucking beautiful, he murmured.

  Glory’s whole body blushed, and Enten hoped it was in pleasure, not embarrassment. He moved slowly, handling her delicately. If she only knew she was his next sumptuous meal.

  It seemed she barely noticed Enten’s cold hands on her knees, but when he reached down to spread the folds of her cunt apart, his frosty fingers had her instantly writhing.

  “Oh God,” she intoned.

  He panicked and quickly withdrew, but she grabbed his hand and put it back, shaking her head. “No. It’s good,” she said, breathlessly. “More, Enten. More,” she implored.

  Enten was thrilled, and willing to oblige. He knelt between her thighs and swiped his cold tongue through her moisture, causing a few icy crystals to form. He knew the sensation would be intense, so he lapped one more time, and pulled back.

  “Ahh.” The noise Glory made was one of wonder. “Move higher, Enten. Touch me…”

  Where, Glory? Enten’s breath came frosty now. You want me to lick your clit? he groaned. Just say it, and it’s yours. He still hesitated to inflict anything on her she wasn’t ready to accept.

  “Yes. Please. My…clit,” she whispered. He raised himself up and reached for the glass at her bedside table instead. He would make this a lot more enjoyable.

  Relax, honey, Enten said, feeling her tense as he pulled away. He quickly scooped up one of the small rocks before turning back to her weeping pussy. He slowly moved the hot stone a few centimeters up into her wet channel.

  Glory moaned. But in a very good way, Enten could tell. He gave her a look that told her to watch out, before lowering his head to suck her clit into the cave of his Siberian mouth.

  The juxtaposition between the warm rock, which he continued to manipulate with his hand, and his icy tongue working circles on her swollen nub, had her body shaking within seconds. She was about to come, and come hard. His cock throbbed in anticipation.

  Glory’s fingers wrapped into his long dreads, holding him in place as she raised herself up, up, up into his willing mouth and screamed, letting go in a wrenching, almost terrifyingly intense orgasm. “Enten. Enten,” she cried out at her release.

  His tongue flattened and stilled. He flipped the little rock out of her pussy and lowered his head to gently lap up her wetness, replacing the coldness of his tongue on her clit with the still warm rock, until her spasms subsided.

  Things turned cold too quickly, so he retrieved the second and third stones from the glass, placing one at the apex of her opening, and the other over her still swollen clit, soothing her flesh, while he inched up to finish with a gentle kiss on her lips.

  Enten was happy. No. He was ecstatic. He’d had a taste of his woman, and he’d brought her to explosive completion. He’d done what he’d set out to do, and now he could leave with a clear conscience and a hard dick to beat off in the shower. He’d hold a picture of her sated body firmly in his mind. Except Glory didn’t seem to want him to go.

  She reached up and wrapped her hands around the back of his shoulders, holding him in place and not moving her eyes from his chest. Enten followed the trajectory of her gaze.

  She moved her thumb and tagged his amulet, where it had ignited like the flames of hell in his shoulder.

  A grin hit her lips.

  “I’ll bet we can get that to glow even brighter.”

  Damn. She’d surprised him again.

  Chapter Twenty-One
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br />   Gods filtered in, all looking curiously toward Ereshkigal, confined on the dais in a stark eight-by-eight cage. None dared meet Nergal’s eye as the king stood tall, his seven-foot frame more erect than it had ever been. He, on the other hand, was busy looking over his guests, wondering, his eyes narrowed, which one and how many of them were currently plotting his downfall.

  Erra and Ishtar-Dinitu stood by his side, waiting for the room to fill and the meeting to be called to order. They both remained on alert and primed to disclose the traitor whose voice pattern Ishtar was certain she would recognize. In the meantime, Nergal knew it ate at Ish-Din hard that her sister was on display beside them.

  Once this was over, he vowed, it was spa-time for all the goddesses. Or whatever other such nonsense made them giddy with glee, but pampering would be a start. Several of the glowie women, with their penchant for being able to soothe and comfort, had begun a burgeoning and lucrative spa business at the Underworld grotto Dagon had revealed to them. Now that all the bad demons within Nergal’s borders had been destroyed or relocated, and no bodily harm would befall anyone who walked his corridors, it had opened up unlimited possibilities for the industrious souls.

  The glowies had been treating any number of guests for the past few days, performing facials and massages. But so far, none of Lavarette’s planted cameras and microphones in any of those locations had turned up Underworld leaders with dissenting agendas.

  That was not to say that a good number of the gods and goddesses attending weren’t curiously intrigued to see Ereshkigal imprisoned. The well-known cold war between him and his wife had been going on for millennium. There was speculation of a public confrontation or an explosive reconciliation. Some theorized a possible banishment or even execution before he announced the search for a new queen. Any way Nergal looked at it, things were ripe with intrigue, and it underscored how boring these beings’ lives down below could be.

  Nergal nodded his head to the appointed lesser kings and queens of the Underworld, indicating they should take seats nearest to the front. He especially wanted Mamitu close by. She was the all-important goddess of oaths and a supreme judge in the Underworld courts.