Forgotten Fates

by S J Doran

  The dark-haired beauty threw back her head with a throaty cry, her orgasm rippling through her, gushing out, down Cass’s face. She crumpled, her body trembling and quaking as she was shifted to the side with Bas’s sturdy handling.

  The blue-eyed demon climbed over Cass, his tongue licking up the juices that had trailed down Cass’s face before meeting Cass’s mouth with his own. Bas’s hand still gripped him hard, stroking rough, and he felt the woman’s tongue back there, softly licking, providing enough moisture for Bas’s hand to move easily.

  Cass’s hand went to the back of Bas’s neck, holding him fast, no longer caring about anything but chasing down his orgasm. His hand sought out Bas’s erection, tentatively at first, but with Bas’s deep groan, he gripped harder. He felt a tongue at his balls, then her hot lips sucking at them as Bas gave him a rough tug, and he came.

  Fucking fountains of it shot up onto his belly, Bas drinking down his cries and growling into his mouth, then he came too. Cass felt it over his chest, running down the valley between his abs to pool with his own spend, over his healed wound.

  Cass lay there, his body absorbing the dark energy wafting off his two bed mates, taking it all in and then taking more.

  Each breath had more power infusing him. he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He wasn’t sure he cared.

  His wounds healed, his body strengthened.

  Bas blinked up at him, a sly smile playing about his luscious mouth.

  “Aren’t you going to welcome me home? My lord.” Bas’s voice was hoarse from his cries.

  The sense of unease ate up his insides. His chest was tight with it, his mind trying to grasp onto a thought. Fear. It raced through him, with no explanation.

  “No.” Cass growled and pushed Basileus off his chest, “I have to...”

  Something. He had to do something. He couldn’t be here.

  Adrenaline burned through his still-weak body, cold sweat beading at his temples.

  “Don’t you wish that were you, Cassius? He’s helping himself to what’s yours.” Bas’s voice- he couldn’t place the memory, but it made his stomach churn and stole his breath.

  Bas sat back on his heels, looking down at Cass, still semi-erect and completely unashamed. His glowing eyes trailed down Cass’s body, snagging at the puddle on his belly before moving to the female that lay across his thighs.

  “Oh my.” Bas said, moving over Cass to lift the woman, “my lord I believe you’ve drained the life right out of her.”

  Cass’s stomach sunk farther, nausea turning to bile and pushing up his throat.

  He’d killed her?

  Very un-demon-like of him, but he preferred not to kill. They were much more use to him alive.

  “Whatever shall we tell her father?” Basileus’s saccharine tone set Cass’s teeth on edge.

  He’d known. He knew what shape Cass had been in. Knew he’d need more than a willing female to sate his hunger. He hadn’t held himself in check, he’d let Bas guide him into more.

  He swallowed hard, “who is her father?” He was afraid to ask.

  “She is,” Bas looked at him, eyes gleaming triumphant, “was the daughter of your sister’s Herald, the Arch-Duchess’ second in command- I do wonder if they’d had plans for her to wed.”

  Cass’s chest tightened with the inability to breathe. His half sister. The one Bas had been off negotiating a treaty with. The female had probably been marked for a political match to further their own standing. Possibly even with himself?

  “I suppose this might cause a war. If her body were to be found in your realm.” Basileus ran a hand down her hair, peeking up at Cass from under thick eyelashes.

  “What do you want?” Cass’s voice was a rasp, his throat tight. He couldn’t afford to owe the demon anything...

  “Why, young Cassius, I want nothing more than to see you fully accept your due.” Bas leaned closer to him, brushing a soft kiss across his mouth.

  Cass closed his eyes, exhaling against Bas’s full lips. “I sit upon the throne. Earned by the right of my own power.”

  He had lived in fear of his father’s rage, lived through the pain it had taken to shape him. The Hells belonged to him.

  Bas traced his fingertip under Cass’s lip, his eyes heavy with unsated lust.

  “Pain and trials made you into what you are.” Bas said, running his fingers down over the mess on his stomach.

  “You will remember this, Cassius.” His father’s voice floated through his mind.

  “Watch carefully, Cass. I’ve been ordered to break one of your bones each time you flinch.” Bas’s voice echoed back.

  The first inkling that he was out of his depth was surfacing. Bas was going to use him to his own advantage, he’d forgotten the simple fact that Basileus was Asmodeus’s creature first— whatever relationship he had cultivated with Cass came second to that. He’d been lax in thinking Bas was a friend and could be trusted.

  Bas’s fingers ran down his jaw, circling the back of his neck, his mouth right at Cass’s ear.

  “This is what you were born for, Sin. Time to accept it.”

  Could he afford him as an enemy?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  no one's slave

  She swiftly made way through the dark stone galleries and corridors of the ninth temple, her path illuminated by colorful rays of sunlight spilling down from large cathedral windows. The combination of black onyx walls, jewel toned stained glass, and candle lit lanterns cast the illusion of walking through a dark and twisted wonderland, the image reinforced by the energy of magick charging the air and the rich scents of incense, sex, and blood which lingered.

  “When can we expect your return, Sarratum Sa?”

  Her steps faltered at the ridiculous question, she glared over her shoulder at the Kalum priest who struggled to keep pace. “Do I have a curfew I am not aware of?” She was irritable and at the end of her patience.

  As soon as she had returned to Asurim, her time had been absorbed by duties to the realm. This had left her with little opportunity to process her defeat at the hand of Namtar, or the devastating disappointment she felt at the sword’s failure to rid her of the death god.

  Audiences had been held from the first light of dawn to end long after the fall of dusk. An endless slew of diplomats and emissaries were heard, all in the effort to secure alliances which had grown strenuous after news of her actions in Ghata’n begun to spread.

  By summoning forth the Draugr, Amara had doomed the Ghata’n, had been responsible for the massacre of all life within that realm. Some had gone as far as accusing her of genocide. They were wrong. She hadn’t meant to unleash such dark forces, had not planned beyond anything beyond sacking the capital and acquiring the sword. In her exhaustion she had lost control over the magick she invoked, with devastating results.

  They all feared her, she sensed it in them, even her Dominae. They dreaded her power, and the evil she had proven herself capable of. At first, she’d considered telling them it had been an accident, before deciding it was far better to be feared. There was a degree of safety and loyalty in fear.

  For two days she had bowed to the realm’s needs, the entire time expecting word to arrive regarding the sin-eater’s well being. Yet none of her trusted sources had been able to verify his condition. Which is why she was currently heading for the portal towards the Nessus to discover it for herself.

  She doubled her pace, forcing the Kalum priest and his acolytes to catch up. “A curfew? Of course not Sarratum, but there is concern regarding your intended departure. The order of Kalum has sent me to inform your highness of their insistence that you return to the Inner sanctum until…”

  The priest’s words ended in a whiny squeal as her fingers wrapped around his throat. Her voice coated in ice when she answered. “The Kalum are but one faction amongst many who consider a high priestess bound in servitude preferable over a ruling sovereign.”

  Small claws pressed into his flesh, experience guiding the tip in
to his jugular vein, severing it, a steady stream of blood soaking the front of his robes. “Let’s be very clear about one thing, I serve Asurim of my own free will, but as its queen, not its prisoner.”

  Her free hand closed around the hilt of her athame and with a singular thrust, its blade cleaved through the priest’s neck, sliding between the first and second cervical vertebrae to perforate the medulla oblongata.

  She waited until she saw the life fade from the priest’s eyes, releasing his body to crumple into a heap upon cold onyx stones. “See his body delivered to the order of the Kalum.”

  They had made their demands, the priest would serve as her answer, her strike efficient and deadly. The medulla oblongata was the part of the brain responsible for regeneration, making it the proverbial Achilles heel even to those frozen into immortality. Only creatures such as the wraith, Draugr, and lich were truly undying, their endless existence anything but enviable.

  “Excuse me, Sarratum sa?”

  The sigh she released reflected her agitation, she didn’t enjoy having her hand forced into violence, but neither would she object. “What is it?”

  Fear radiated from the acolyte who dropped to his knees before her, lowering himself upon the black stone despite the slowly expanding pool of blood covering its surface.

  “Praise to you, Sarratum Sa. Your humble servant wishes to know which preparations you would have us make for the approaching blood moon ceremony.”

  Agitation turned to surprise. “Is the blood moon upon us already?”

  With everything which had transpired in recent days, the lunar equinox had simply slipped her mind. A neglectful oversight. With Asurim’s magick weakened as it was, they couldn’t afford to squander the opportunity to harvest the powerful energy such events generated. Once collected, she would enter the Inner Sanctum and transfer that power from herself into the realm, help its magic heal from the damage her mother had done.

  So far, she had made little progress in her efforts, barely managed to keep the realm’s life essence sustained. As if something continuously siphoned away what energy she managed to infuse.

  “Nine nights remain before the blood moon, Sarratum.”

  There was still time to make it work. “We will need blood offerings. Send out orders to have fitting tributes selected amongst the prisoners of each domain. Have them cleaned, fed and prepared. I will discuss the further details with the Dominae upon my return.”

  At her command the over-eager acolyte jumped to his feet, the clumsy move causing him to trip over the extended arm of the lifeless body littering the floor. His arms flailing wildly as he fell, then landing ass first upon the wet stone with a loud yelp.

  “Highness, I beg your...”

  “Shhh!” With a swift motion she silenced the commotion around her, listening intently. Amidst the surprised screams and shocked outcries, she could swear she’d heard the distinct titter of a child’s laughter.

  It took a few moments of intently looking around the gallery before she spotted a small form hiding behind one of the statues. She let out a curse under her breath. A very graphic statue, depicting a group of revelers introducing a virgin to the pleasures of the flesh.

  “Since when do we allow children to roam the grounds of the ninth temple?”

  Worshippers weren’t allowed passage into the ninth temple until reaching the age of adolescence, and for good reason. In keeping with their trade agreement with the demonarchy, the ninth temple had been assigned to the worship of the prince of lust- Cassius. Energy of lust was most effectively generated through the offering of sex and blood, and this made the practices within the ninth temple unfit for innocent eyes.

  She noted a few of the acolytes attempting to approach the child. Yet as soon as they did, the creature panicked.

  She lacked experience with children, but fear she understood well. Following instinct Amara lowered herself to eye level, attempting to appear less intimidating as she called out, “child, I vow that you will not be harmed. Will you come to me?”

  To her amazement the frightened creature moved out from behind the statue, and took a few tentative steps in her direction. It was then that a group of unfamiliar figures in uniform rushed into the gallery headed straight for it. The child ran, the men gave chase.

  “Protect the Sarratum!” The voice of Dominus Oberith’s boomed through the gallery, causing Amara to instantly be surrounded by guards and acolytes, stifling her.

  “Oh for Hells sake I’m fine. Find the child and bring the intruders to me!”

  When all moved to obey orders, it was only Oberith left standing by her side, much like her own, his expression thunderous. “Dominus, any idea why there’s a child hiding within the temple?”

  “Excellent question, highness.”

  It took but a few moments for the guards to successfully round up the intruders, each one forced onto their knees before Amara and Oberith.

  “You appear to be neither worshiper nor acolyte, so by what right do you enter this temple?” Her agitation returned full force now that she found herself be delayed even further.

  “We mean no disrespect to the Sarratum, we have been charged to retrieve property the institute of alchemy has lost.”

  Despite best efforts to remain open minded and fair, she struggled hold back the anger that seemed to surface the unapologetic statement. Her dominus instantly alert to her ire.

  “I assume the child is this property you speak of? If so, I must remind you of the fact that Sarratum sa has abolished the practice of slavery within Asurim. It’s been so for nearly a century.”

  More temple guards returned, with general Dravite in the lead carrying a wildly struggling child slumped over her shoulder before carefully lowering her feisty charge onto the floor before Amara.

  “The institute has broken no laws. That is not a child, but an abomination, valuable research for our alchemists. It managed to escape its cage last night and we tracked its imprint to the temple. We thought to trap it immediately lest its presence further defiles these sacred grounds.”

  Amara’s eyes roamed over the small being standing before her, noticing the repressed shivers. And no wonder, its form was rail thin and barely protected from the elements. No shoes, feet brown with dirt, the few items of clothing worn filthy and torn. But what truly stirred her curiosity most was the bag the child kept pulled over its head. Two holes had been cut out for the eyes, yet everything else remained hidden beneath the sack cloth.

  Her curiosity must have been evident for her general already moved remove the cloth bag. Yet as she did, a small, grey tinted hand shot out to hold it firmly in place, while a dirty bared foot barreled out to successfully plant a decent kick against Dravite’s shin.

  “Feisty creature…” She would have laughed at her general’s flustered expression, had it not been for the fear and shame spilling out from the child in thick waves. Perhaps it suffered from a physical deformation? Pride and vanity often made warlocks cruel.

  Amara didn’t believe in abominations like most did, most of the abominations she knew hid behind faces carved by angels. “An abomination you say? How very intriguing.”

  “Highness I implore you to reconsider, it’s not a fine sight to behold.”

  Ignoring the insufferable man, Amara knelt, once again placing herself eye level with the feisty creature, who was firmly held in place by General Dravite’s unrelenting grip. Through the holes cut into the cloth her gaze locked with eyes the color of deep emerald, her second favorite. And within their beautiful depths, beneath the fear and shame, she found the spark of intelligence and curiosity. Not an abomination, but a child.

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Sarratum Sa, please believe me when I say that is not a child.”

  Oberith’s tone turned frosty, a first and final warning. “Address her highness without permission one more time, and the guards will be given instructions to take you to the arena to serve as live target practice.”

  An unc
ertain voice rose up from beneath the cloth, “my name is Anzillu.”

  Disgust had her cast a glare at the men, Anzillu was not a name, it was merely the bastardisation of the Sumerian word for abomination.

  “So your name is abomination? I confess to never have seen a proper abomination before. And I’m afflicted with a terrible case of curiosity. Would you mind showing me?”

  Again, those small hands moved, clutching the cloth tightly to secure it in place, the bag moving vigorously as the head within shook as to say no.

  “No? That’s a real shame. Unfortunately, you must do as I ask, since I am Sarratum- my will is the law. But I’d much rather ask for you to remove the bag than force it from you. So please young one, remove the bag for me?”

  His green gaze locked with hers in challenge, and she noted how the ash grey fingers which clutched the cloth so tightly were in fact trembling. Moments passed between them. Then slowly the fabric was lifted from his head, at the same time those beautiful eyes lowering in shame as his face was revealed.

  Audible gasps were heard from all around the gallery.

  “Impossible!”

  “Sacrilege!”

  “A monstrosity!”

  The chaos around them caused the boy to panic, Dravite’s attention distracted, losing her grip on the boy when he pulled free and set off into a run.

  One of the Institute’s soldiers made the mistake of lunging for him, his meaty fist balled to strike down the frightened boy, when he suddenly combusted into a ball of screeching green fire.

  “I have heard more than enough I think...” A singular flame danced upon Amara’s opened palm as she watched the soldier be devoured by her fire.

  The gruesome sight it presented had many of the acolytes turn away their gaze. But not the guards, and not the boy, he appeared to be transfixed by the flames which were the same the color as his eyes. Slowly his hand reached out to touch the pretty fire when Amara quickly closed her hand over his, guiding it away.