Forgotten Fates

by S J Doran

  A singular stab of pain shot through her, seizing deep inside her chest. A dead heart which seemed to never stop breaking still responding to treasured memories.

  A different life, a different girl, a different demon.

  He grabbed her chin and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. His eyes grew heavy as they raked over every inch of her. His words and gaze unsettling, leaving her to feel… exposed.

  “Just Imagine the power, having you for a mother, with my bloodline. No one would be able to oppose us,” he bent in close, breathing words against her lips. “Not even my sister.”

  Only few other combination of words in existence would prove more effective in snapping her out of his enthrallment. Anger flared through her, and before she could catch herself, her hand struck out, her palm leaving an angry red imprint on his cheek. He wanted a child from her for his own political machinations. Her pride stung, and somehow her shattered heart… hurt.

  “I am no one’s broodmare, demon.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his eyes blazing fury, and by some trick of the light she could almost see the hell-flames spark within those dark depths. Perhaps the corruption of the Nessus had taken root and he was going mad like his father?

  “You reject my offer, yet you will happily give yourself to the Huntsman?” His expression turned cold, betrayal flashing through his eyes.

  She moved to strike again, but he grabbed her wrist, “don’t push me any further.”

  The struggle left her. Gwynn, the Huntsman and King of the Dark Fae had been the one to keep Namtar at bay when she had been near defenseless against the death god. For all these years while she’d been protected by a wielder of Wild Magic, Namtar had mostly kept his distance, only to resurface the moment she’d gone after that thrice-damned sword.

  Gwynn had been the one to teach her how to be Sarratum to her people. She owed him much. His power on Gaia was without measure and was a separate entity from where demons and warlocks claimed theirs. Separate even from the gods.

  Often, she pondered how pleasant life would have been if she had been his destined one, the one destined to break the Wild Hunt’s curse. And if she had still been capable of love...perhaps she could have loved the dark fae. But her love had been claimed.

  “It wasn’t meant as an insult.” His voice was back to being silken seduction, his hold on her easing, but neither did he let go. “We would suit. We work well together.”

  Her fingers moved to stroke along his cheek, easing the sting. “You don’t want me, Sin. You need me… and the day will come when you discover that it’s simply not enough.”

  Anger crossed his face, turning it dark and cold as he pressed deeper against her, hissing into her ear. “You think too highly of yourself priestess, I don't need anyone. I’ve never had anyone, and I’ve made it this far.”

  Never…? Her thoughts sputtered, the demon had some nerve.

  The rational part of her mind interjected, reminding her he didn’t have those memories. Asmodeus had made certain nothing of his past, of her demon remained.

  “I don’t need a female’s affection. All I need is a good fuck now and again.”

  She bristled then shoved at him with all her strength, a pulse of her power radiating outward, shoving him back and away from her, releasing her for her feet to find purchase once more on the carpeted ground.

  “Oh, you don’t need me?” She wouldn’t even admit to herself how deep his careless words had cut. “How quickly the demon forgets who helped him secure the throne he now sits on.”

  She lifted her chin and made a beeline for her bag.

  “I will just get my potions, close up your shrine at the ninth temple and get the fuck out of your way. It’s been real Prince of Lust, and good luck to you.”

  “Amara wait...”

  He moved to follow her only to sway on his feet, his hand blindly grasping for the wall. “Fuck priestess, exactly how much power did you hit me with?”

  Concern shot through her, squabble instantly forgotten. “Nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle…”

  Had she been too late with his potions?

  She pressed him back into the chaise, feeling his forehead, waving her hand at the side of his face, just to test. He bore injures from his childhood that never had nor ever would heal properly, leaving his vision permanently impaired on his right side.

  Blood trickled ominously from his nose, covering his lips and chin- and from his ear- cutting a trail across one perfect cheekbone.

  “Get the blood off.” She pulled off her shirt and frantically pushed it through the bars. “Get it OFF HIM.”

  Aza turned his face from her nudity, pulling off his own shirt instead, gently dabbing up the mess of Cass’s face.

  “Cass?” Aza whispered, she could barely hear it over her own shuddering breaths.

  “Fuck. Curse and rot his hide.” Aza was still muttering, his hand waving at the side of Cass’s face opposite of where he was bleeding.

  Her brows knit with confusion. Her stomach knitting when Aza looked back to her with such a look of devastation she thought the world might end right then.

  “Amara, I need to bring him to a healer. I promise you he’ll live, alright?”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Her lip trembled, her eyes burned, but her anger was building. “Can’t you bring a healer here? He came to see me, he wanted me.”

  She shook off the raw memory, wishing she could forget, like the demon had forgotten; he wasn’t even aware, and she couldn’t explain to him without the risk of damaging his mind any further. Their past needed to remain buried within the ruins of his father’s destruction.

  Instead she had fed his addiction to her poisons. Getting him addicted to her poisons had been tragically simple really- he craved pain, he needed medicine, she provided both. There had been a delivery two weeks ago— surely, he hadn’t gone that long since his last dosage?

  “Since you are too stubborn to tell me what is truly going on with you, I’ll just go ahead and find out for myself shall I?”

  He groaned as she shred his shirt with dainty claws, her hands hesitating at baring chest, this was a line she’d promised herself not to cross, for the preservation of her own sanity she didn’t want to see her sigil above his heart. Yet something was terribly out of sorts with the sin-eater, something he was keeping from her.

  It wasn’t only her mark she found, her breath hissed between clenched teeth the sight of the fresh sigil burned into his bare flesh. “Asmodeus. He’s back… how is this even possible?”

  His strong fingers closed around her wrist, his large hand engulfing it, his eyes pleading with her. “Mara, I… need help.”

  She moved her hands to cup his cheeks, pulling his face up to hers, “Dark Gods demon, I don't understand. how did he do this to you when he’s been banished?”

  “I need…” his voice trailed off, his teeth scraping lightly across his plump lower lip, as though he were keeping his next words contained.

  She fell onto the chaise beside him, pretending he hadn’t been just about to ask her for something she could never offer, her thoughts racing with the repercussions of his father returning. They had to ensure there was no, and would never be any possibility of that.

  She tugged his shirt off his shoulders and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor, her eyes riveted on Asmodeus’s seal, her hand drawn to the singed edges.

  “You going to touch me?” His head rested along the back of the chaise, his heavy lidded eyes following her hand, “that’ll be new.”

  Her gaze jumped to his. More than a hundred years they spent on opposite sides of those damned bars, longing for an opportunity such as this, the demon wouldn’t realize just how momentous this was. He couldn’t.

  Not her demon. A different life…

  Her hand rested over the bare skin of his chest and his breath hissed in, his muscles tensing under her light touch.

  “Fuck. Mara.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her over his
lap, his breaths sawing hard. “don’t… feed more power into it. He’s getting it all— no telling what he can do with it.”

  Had he felt the surge of energy between them? It had nothing to do with her magic, she’d still kept that reigned in. She opened her mouth to tell him so, then closed it when she realized she would have no other explanation to offer him. The truth never to be revealed.

  “I have to touch you, to reverse what he’s done here,” she frowned, cutting her gaze away from his. “This won’t be a binding sigil, unless you agreed to it? But mine was there first.”

  He smiled brightly, “you called dibs?”

  Dammit, demon. She sure as hell did. Not my demon…

  “I didn’t agree to this,” his hand waved over his chest. “I don’t even know what he’s done, just that it’s making me hunger— my appetite…” he swallowed hard and slumped back into the cushions, releasing her completely. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

  She put her hand to his cheek, angling his face up to hers. “Demon. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. We fix this, you take your potions, and get back to ruling like we both know you can.”

  He gave a mute nod and lifted her hand back to his chest. “Put me back together again Mara.”

  Her chest tightened at his careless words and it took her a moment to shake them off. Concentrate. Nearly as bad as Asmodeus returning would be him having open access to the sin-eater, utilizing him as a puppet as he’d long intended, with Bas steering his feeding preferences.

  She tapped into their bond. It was always there between them, dormant yet underlying their every interaction, feeling it flare up was… exquisite. Sin’s eyes lit up and he gasped, pressing her hand tighter to his chest, his hips shifting under her, his erection hard as an iron bar.

  Feeling out the essence that didn’t belong, she peeled it back from his, like removing a leech. Cass’s body shuddered beneath her, her concentration wavering at the feel of him. Leave it to the damned demon to turn this sexual.

  By the time she had removed every splinter, every grasping sucker, her hands were trembling and her body was damp with sweat. He pulled her head down to his chest and held her there, both of them breathing hard, her without the energy or will to fight against him.

  “It’s gone?” He asked when his heart had finally resumed a normal rhythm.

  She nodded and straightened up, moving out of his grasp and off his lap. No blurring lines. Not her demon. Rising on unsteady feet she went over to collect his potions from the floor where they lay abandoned.

  “Now aren’t you glad I came to deliver these personally?” She held up the crystal vial between thumb and forefinger, waving it in front of him.

  “Yeah.” His brows furrowed and he sat up slowly, “why did you?”

  She shook her head and remained silent, sorting through her bag for the other potion he needed. Silence stretched.

  “Glasya is coming for me.” He said, halting as though pondering his words carefully. “Since you’re here and in a helpful mood…”

  She went still, hand tightening on the vial. That name— affected her, sent a tidal wave of conflicting emotions through her and she couldn’t let him see any of it.

  “What did you do to incur the wrath of her royal Arch-Duchess,” her tone was snide. She refused to feign respect for the female, even she had her limits.

  “I killed her Herald’s daughter.” He whispered, closing his eyes and turning his face from her. “Bas… arranged for her to see to me— after I was injured by the sword. I just… kept feeding.”

  The cut crystal of the vial dug an imprint into her hand. How like the Prince of Pleasures to turn pleasure to his advantage. “So, she’s dead.”

  Manipulation was not a new concept for Basileus, he and Asmodeus had played these games with Cassius since he was a child. Killing pets and friends, ostracizing him to control his son’s actions, while placing the blame for their demise on him. This was simply the retelling of an old tale, and she should have known the sin-eater, despite his ignorance and trust would not be spared their games.

  She perched beside him on the chaise, her fingers pushing the hair back from his face before she could think to stop herself. “He used your very nature against you, of course he would.” Asmodeus branding him made much more sense now; driving the sin-eater mad with hunger, unleashing him as the Prince of Pleasures saw fit. “Undoubtedly, he has positioned you exactly where he wants you— so tell me, demon— where is it he wants you?”

  His eyes flew up to hers, brown so dark they were nearly black. His hunger overtaking his rationality.

  “I can’t figure that out.” He grabbed up her hand with the vial, “help me forget, just for now.”

  “Sin-eater, forgetting is the equivalent of letting them win.” She pulled her hand back, withholding his oblivion. “Think. Is he allied with your sister? We both know they would stop at nothing to see your father back on the throne. Basileus is your father’s herald— linked to him. If Glasya’s,” she barely stifled the shudder at the mention of that name, “Herald demands retribution, she can challenge your right to rule.”

  He blew out a long breath, sinking back into the cushions, his hand swiping down his face.

  “They’ve maneuvered me right to where they want me to be, with my back in a corner.” He looked up at her, expression one of devastation. “I can’t undo what was done.”

  She smiled coldly. “You? Yes, you can’t do a thing. He made sure of that,” she cupped his cheek in her palm, “but it's okay demon, because I’ve decided help you.”

  He offered her a cheeky grin, the sparkle back in his eyes. “A boon for old time’s sake?”

  She sorted delicately. “Demon, we owe each other nothing.”

  He looked down, tracing the outline of the sigil on her palm, her entire body warming to the intimate touch, their connection still wide open, with no way for her to shut it down until he fed and got his own power back under control. Dark gods, she knew he wasn’t hers, but somehow her body always managed to miss that memo. Every touch or caress the demon spared her left her craving more.

  “Mara, I can never pay you back for all you’ve done for me.” His hand reached up so quick, from one blink to the next he had her chin in his grasp. “And no matter how you resist— I say this makes us friends.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  points were made

  “Alright, let’s begin shall we,” Amara could hear the brittleness within her own laugh. Her pulse erratic, even as she tried to tamp down the thrill his words caused. Friends. Dark gods- how was she supposed to manage such a development?

  He cast her a grin as she approached, and it only took her a moment to realize why. The demon's position upon the chaise made it impossible to reach him unless she were to stand between those long, stretched out legs. The demon was deceptively lean, his height made him appear almost slender, until one was ensconced in his limbs and realized just how large he was.

  He didn't move or adjust, even after she pinned him with a glare. And when she finally acquiesced, that lazy grin of his widened into a true smile.

  “I don't deserve you.”

  One hand pressed the edge of the small vial against his mouth, the other easing his head back. “You are correct, you don't.”

  Without hesitation his lips parted, drinking down the dark liquid she offered. They had bound themselves to each other through an irrevocable vow, sealed by magic. Amara could never betray him, he could never deceive her. Even so, she found the level of trust he placed in her humbling.

  The sin-eater had seen the terrible magics she was capable of, yet never questioned her methods. He never judged or feared her. Stranger still, he had decided he wanted her for a friend.

  She had long ago vowed to herself to always protect him. First out of loyalty to her Cassius, secondly out of necessity, to keep Asmodeus from the throne of the Nessus.

  But friendship went beyond far beyond protection. It meant she would need to step out of the sh
adows and become actively involved in his life.

  Still, breaking the demon free from Basileus’s influence would prove difficult. For three hundred years the prince had mentored and reshaped him in the image of his father. Without memory to guide him, the sin-eater had accepted the Prince of Pleasures as friend, lover, and advisor.

  Darkness stirred within, calling for vengeance, tempered only by the need for patience. Murdering a prince of the demonarchy would jeopardize everything they had worked towards. But she had to do something to ease the grip Basileus held on him, starting with the harem.

  It would do no good to be jealous over the Price of Lust.

  He no longer belonged to her.

  Already the demon's eyelids were growing heavy, breathing uneven. A flush of heat spread across his bared chest, a sight not even she was immune to. Instinct was overtaking sense.

  Basileus’s plan had likely been to have the sin-eater grow fearful of feeding from any other than him. Leaving him to meet with the Archduchess in a weakened condition. Easy prey to dominate and control.

  Not while I'm around.

  The slow release of the poison was going to cause him pain. That pain would help silence his mind, take away inhibitions, and allow instinct to take over to do what it must- feed.

  Strong fingers splayed over her hips, his touch snapping her out of her thoughts while coaxing her closer. His hold was gentle, knowing she would eventually resist, she always did. This time she surprised them both, she swayed into his touch, and relented to his pull. Their bond was still wide open, the impulse to join with him a magnetic compulsion impossible to ignore.

  Energy charged the air between them as she eased against him, her legs parting to straddle his lap. His fingers dug in as his hands clenched tighter, latching tight and making escape impossible, then he pulled her closer, his expression daring her to try to move away.

  One of his hands wandered up to the middle of her back, pressing her forward with his fingertips, testing, pushing until their chests touched. Both their breaths were suspended, she could feel his heart hammering through his ribcage, echoing off her breast.