by S J Doran
The tension building up between her shoulders eased as she inhaled his warm scent, highlighted with the clean and crisp notes of aftershave. If the demon thought to kiss her, she would let him.
Heat assailed her when the tip of his tongue skimmed along her bottom lip, tasting her. Her own breath nothing more than a sigh when he turned his head to press his mouth to her ear, his voice conjuring images of rich silk and sweet whiskey as he whispered softly. “You forget who taught you how to play these games Amara. So, stop trying to distract me, and bring me the sword.”
The pressure in the room bottomed out, the air in her lungs gone.
“How little you know my bride if you’re asking her to share her treasures, demon prince.”
Namtar.
Cass’s arms closed around her almost painfully… protectively.
“But since we are soon to be wed, I consider her property to be my property.” He stepped into the room, his masked face turned to Mara. “As you are yourself.”
The singing of metal rang out over the beating of her heart, causing a jolt of panic to sear up her spine. Within the grip of the god was the sword she had hidden away. Had he been watching her all this time, even on Gaia?
“And as my property, that half-breed mongrel,” he notched his chin towards Cass, “had better be minding where his hands stray, lest he loses them.”
Cass’s hand gripped her waist, giving it a quick squeeze before turning to face down Death.
“That’s King of the Hells.” Cassius snarled. “She’s not your property, she’s already spoken for. Go fade away with the rest of your lot.”
Mara visibly bristled at the two of them for arguing about ownership of her, and was about to open her mouth to tell them she was not a damned belonging—
Namtar’s laughter cut off her thoughts, the sound grating on every nerve she had.
“Do I look as though I expire for lack of worship, you misbegotten cur?” Namtar spat out, his hooded face tilted toward the sword in his grip.
Before she could draw in a breath to speak, the sword swung forward.
Cassius grunted, the noise more shock than pain, the sigil on her palm burning as his agony singed through her. Namtar delightedly pressed the Sword of Divine Justice deeper into Cass’s gut, slowly, watching Amara for her reaction.
She fought to keep the shock and outrage from showing on her face, reaching for her athame, calling up what magick she could from its dormant power. Darkness rose at her command, pushing back at Namtar until he was forced to release the sword to defend himself.
A loud snarl passed her lips as she stepped in front of Cass, shielding him as he sank to his knees.
Namtar shook off the magick and made a move to get up, her hands gripped around the hilt of the sword- the sword hummed in her hands as though anticipating.
“Do it,” Cass hissed out, his jerky nod letting her know he understood what she was about to do. This wouldn’t kill him, she berated herself, and this may be the best opportunity she ever got…
She clenched her teeth and ripped the sword out of the demon’s gut, steeling herself against his agonized moan.
Dark gods, the sound of it- a rush of desire whipped through her, catching her off-guard, and lighting up Cass’s glazed eyes.
“You can’t be hurting that bad,” she rolled her eyes.
He needed to be far away from the death god, she couldn’t risk him being used as leverage. Be it the sin-eater or Cassius, the demon had never stopped being her strength, and her greatest weakness.
With the jolt of power she’d received from his pain, she managed to gather enough magic to rip open a gateway directly into the Nessus, pushing him through with a quick plea to Kali to watch over him.
Tendrils of dark magic sparked and fizzled around her, and by some miraculous reason, she was able to hold the death god still with her power. Because of Cass’s pain—realization struck, she had fed on it. As unintended as it had been, she shot the demon a silent thanks for the power boost, then shifted her grip on the two-handed sword, trying to find balance with the blade that ran almost the length of her body. It was much too heavy and far too bulky for her to handle proficiently, but she would manage, she simply had to.
Namtar’s eyes glowed with malice from behind his mask, meeting hers in challenge. “I rather be a widow than your bride.” She struck, her words ending on a hiss as the broad blade of the sword rammed into his chest.
Triumph roared through her blood, her heart pounding with… hope?
She shoved harder, feeling the corded sinew covering his ribs give, until the fourth and fifth intercostals snapped beneath the pressure, parting way for the blade to reach his heart.
Freedom- from his curse and from him was within her grasp.
“A widow but not a bride? Seems to me you played that part once before.” Then he smiled.
His venomous words fueled her anger, regardless of the fact that his insinuation was wrong, she was a widow. Namtar might have learned some, but obviously not all; Cassius had taken their secret to his grave, protecting her from his father’s wrath. She was the only person alive with the knowledge that for a few precious moments she had been her demon’s bride, that he had been her husband.
Her fingers were shaking as she tightened her grip around the hilt, her stance widening.
She had been loved deeply by her Cassius, and she loved him fiercely still. Four hundred years had not been able to erase the memory of what love felt like, it was the reason she still mourned its loss. The death god had no right to speak of her demon, or what she had lost.
With a hard shove she impaled him with the sword, right to the hilt, her eyes never leaving his. She wanted to see the expression in those luminescent eyes as his existence came to an end. Seconds passed between them, excitement giving way to rising panic when not even a single drop of blood seeped from the wound.
This has to work....
Bony fingers dug into her face, roughly tilting up her chin, the expression in those eyes not one of defeat but of victory, comprehension turned her breathing shallow.
The sword isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?
Her mother had destroyed her world, Asmodeus had destroyed her heart, and Namtar sought to destroy her soul. Was there to be no justice for her? Just this once— that’s all she asked.
“You honestly believed the sword of divine justice would aid a wicked being such as yourself, Priestess?”
His free hand closed over hers, his touch that of broken skin and brittle bones bound in funeral wrappings. His fingers moved along her knuckles as she kept a firm grip on the hilt.
“Foolish female, the only thing your rebellion has accomplished is for me to deny you any leniency I might otherwise have shown.”
A hard hiss escaped through clenched teeth when her fingers were crushed beneath his grasp, forcing her to release the hilt when broken bones refused to hold their grip.
The tip of his thumb pressed against her bottom lip, brushing away the sin-eater’s lingering kiss. “I now know how to break you, priestess. And when that time comes, I will spare you no mercy.”
“You fool only yourself if you think you could harm him. He is ruler of the Hells now and far beyond your reach.” To her own credit, she sounded much stronger than she felt.
“Ah, my hostile bride, you know better than anyone else that no one is truly beyond death’s reach. Does he not have enough enemies who would eagerly deliver him into my welcoming embrace?” His hand moved to scoop around the back of her neck, the caress too intimate, “does your own mother not plot his demise still?”
“Yes.” The loathsome viper would never surrender her ambitions for a realm and a throne. One of her many regrets was not having been able to take her mother’s head when reclaiming Asurim. Instead, her mother’s name was added third on her list.
“You will come to regret this Amara.” The statement was ominous, dread settling into her bones.
He released her and she lunged fo
r him, grasping, her hand swiping through his incorporeal form as Namtar dissipated, along with the Divine Sword of Justice.
“Shit…”
Shock, confusion, and defeat whirled through her thoughts as she stood alone in her bedroom. She had lost the sword, had lost her chance at justice- and along with it, she lost that final bit of hope she had clung to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
right back to where we started
He blinked his eyes open a crack, his consciousness momentarily lagging. He was laid out on his overly embossed wooden bed, a low burning fire in the hearth providing the only light, the reflection of the flames dancing across the shadows of the canopy above him.
His priestess had shoved him through a portal and stayed to face death alone. A lot of protection he’d been, caught off guard- wounded by the very weapon he’d gone there to collect. What wisps of thoughts he could gather kept floating back to her, hoping she’d made it out of that scrape. He needed her- he’d forgotten to tell her about his father returning.
The wound in his stomach throbbed, blanketing him in waves of pain, his body starved and his power-seeking sustenance, his essence barely holding together.
It took him another moment to realize he wasn’t alone.
Basileus, his father’s Herald, sat beside his bed, his stunning countenance taking in Cass’s unclothed body. Basileus shook his platinum hair, the banked fire in his eyes flaring up, setting off the golden glow of his skin. Stunning, yes. Complete dichotomy to his rotten soul.
Bas oversaw his harem, had been around his entire life. He helped tutor the females to Cass’s preferences, warmed his bed in between.
“That wound,” Basileus leaned forward and Cass flinched back. Something inside of him was shrinking away from the demon’s touch, familiar or not. “Was caused by a weapon that could have ended you.”
Cass nodded slow, trying not to stir up the throbbing in his head.
“The Sword of Justice,” his voice was hoarse from disuse. How long had he been out of it?
“You’ll need to feed, young Cassius.” Basileus’s fingertips brushed across his brow, sweeping his hair from his eyes. “You should bathe, and I will find you a fitting meal, yes?”
Cass nodded with more assurance than he felt. Hells could he even stand?
With Basileus gone from his room, Cass finally gave in to the agony. His entire body ached and his power was surrounding him instead of residing in him. He couldn’t pull himself back together.
“Does it hurt terribly?” A voice floated up from the depths of his mind.
He was delirious. Too weak to keep his thoughts barricaded against invasion. He had no recognition of the voice, the female not one of his varied acquaintance. His mind supplied the name Assat, a Sumerian word he would never use for any female. Wife.
She felt peaceful and warm, his thoughts safe with her. Was he having a premonition? he’d never before had the ability to prognosticate.
“Will you feed me your pain?” Her sweet tones almost made it feel as though someone cared.
Allowing a little madness might be the only thing keeping him sane.
He shook some sense back into his head and eased out of the blankets. Shower, then feed.
He showered cautiously, gingerly cleaning his healing wound- hells, it had barely knitted back together, washing his hair with gentle fingers, trying not to stir up the wasp’s nests that invaded his body. Even turning his head too fast sent shooting pains…
He swiped his towel over the mirror, clearing the condensation enough so he could shave, made quick work of that before wrapping the towel around his waist and making his way back to his bed to collapse. Gently.
His wound still oozed, the edges red and swollen, but healed enough he didn’t bother binding it. He took the towel off and tossed it on the floor, pulling his hands behind his head and lay naked across the covers.
The air was hot and dry against his bare skin, drying him quickly, and he let himself doze as he waited for Basileus to acquire a meal for him.
It wasn’t long before he heard the feminine gasp of approval. And here Cass was laid out like a feast for the woman’s perusal. He looked over to the doorway where Basileus stood with a lushly curved dark-haired woman. For Basileus’s perusal as well, he supposed.
He tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. Some buried instinct trying to warn him of something. Nothing his rational mind could comprehend. This was the way things were, the way they’d always been. He was the Prince of Lust— he needed to feed off that sin in particular to properly nourish his power.
Bas had taught him to use that power, taught him to feed, he had always been there when Cass needed someone; no reason to be wary of him, his mind was just muddled because of his wound.
The woman approached the bed, her dark eyes gleaming. Her fingers tentatively ran over his skin, his cock already stirring to life. She placed her hand on his cheek, turning his head so she could reach his lips, and kissed him softly.
He kept his hands behind his head, using only his mouth to deepen their kiss, his tongue probing, her soft gasps making his cock twitch with readiness. Her hands explored with more assurance, roaming down his neck, her fingernail scraping over a hardened nipple, down and around his stomach wound.
Her lust soaked into him until he was dizzy with it. Again, he wondered just how long he’d been out. How long had he lay here starving?
Her hand grasped his erection and his thoughts scattered, his hands dropped his head and moved to the back of her head, holding her steady so his mouth could devour hers more thoroughly.
He felt the bed dip as Basileus settled his weight beside them, registering his heat and not much more as the woman broke off their kiss and pressed her open mouth to his throat. Then his shoulder. Her tongue flicking over his nipple as her hand gripped him harder.
His hips moved into her grip, his hand tightened in her hair, urging her down. He needed that hot mouth… right there. Her lips wrapped around him, her tongue circling the head of his cock before she took him in right to the back of her throat.
He groaned roughly, nearly spilling right then, but she pulled back too soon, her tongue going back to teasing.
“She’s so very wet.” Basileus whispered in his ear, “here. Taste.”
He felt Bas’s fingers running across his lips and he latched on, running his tongue over the other demon’s fingers, groaning at the taste of the wetness coating them, sucked them into his mouth.
“Will it feel different? When you can finally touch me?” His ghost’s voice floated back up as his mind pulled back from what was happening to his body.
“It will.” He answered her. “My touch will be unexpected; your breaths will shorten with the anticipation of where my fingers will land next. Or my tongue.” His entire body craved her. “My tongue will taste you everywhere, and I will drink down every drop of your offerings.”
“Will I like it?” The ghost’s voice had gone breathless.
He nodded once more, “you will love everything I do to you, Assat Sa. I will make certain.”
His thoughts snapped back to the present, the teasing images of another female, another time, manifestations of his weakness— all forgotten when the woman he was with wrapped her lips around his cock.
He was once again fully engulfed in her hot mouth and Cass sucked harder on Bas’s fingers, dying for more of her taste. Then the fingers were gone, and she was moaning, the vibrations surrounding his shaft making his balls tighten with the need to release, then Bas’s fingers were back at his mouth. Three of them. Cass took them all.
Hells but he needed...
Her soft hand gripped him at the base, moving up to replace her mouth as her tongue explored around her hand. Bas’s fingers left his mouth for a moment, then came back, coated once more, rubbing against his lips- then Bas’s mouth met his, his tongue meeting Cass’s over his soaking wet fingers, running over his bottom lip, then finding its way inside of Cass’s mouth.
> Bas’s hand held Cass’s jaw in place as he kissed him hungrily, his passion raw. Intense. Focused.
Wrong. A growl rose up in Cass’s throat, his hand circling Bas’s throat, squeezing with a subtle threat.
Bas stopped kissing him and met his gaze, question shining. What was going on? All of his instincts were blaring, singling out Bas as a threat- but there was no logic behind it-
Then he felt the sharp edge of teeth dragging down his shaft and his orgasm blasted through him so unexpectedly, he roared with it. His back arched, and he came. Spurts of it. All swallowed down by her hungry mouth as Bas kissed him deeply, swallowing his groans.
Pride. Envy. He groaned- the lust. The room was thick with it. He was growing dizzy from it- drunk off it.
The dark-haired little temptress sat up on her knees, running the back of her hand under her mouth and licking his taste off her lips. His cock stiffened again.
“Here, princess. Come sit on his mouth and let him devour you.” Basileus’s voice was whisper soft, his hands guiding the female up Cass’s body, carefully avoiding his stomach.
Basileus leaned over Cass, gripping his hair hard. “You’re beautiful when you feed Sin. I could eat you right up.” His teeth nipped at Cass’s lip, “and I think I will.”
Bas kissed the woman as he positioned her thighs over Cass’s shoulders, Cass fixated on the pearls of wetness clinging to her curls, and her throbbing, swollen flesh. With a groan he pulled her down to his mouth, lapping up her need.
He felt her quivering under the ministrations of his tongue. He felt his power merging with his cells once more, his body feeding off the woman’s bleeding lust. Then he registered Bas’s firm calloused grip around his aching shaft.
The demon’s mouth wrapped around his erection, suckling hard, his hand cupping Cass’s sac, shoving it up against his shaft, taking him deeper into his mouth. With a grunt, Cass rocked up his hips, shoving himself in deeper as his tongue plunged into the woman’s waiting sheath. Her wetness ran over his mouth, he pulled more out with his tongue, drinking it down, sucking, brushing against her with his teeth as Bas sucked him off hard and fast.