by S J Doran
Behind him, Amara reached for another vial from the pocket of her robe, uncorking it and placing the edge against his lips. “Then drink, King of Sin, and rule your kingdoms.”
Without hesitation he drank down the familiar elixir, the one that would kill his seed, preventing him from giving heirs.
At their side the male and female were quickly reaching a climax as their moans echoed through the room. Cassius’s own movements were growing frantic as he thrust home, causing the woman to cry out in pleasure, her sheath milking the last of his resistance each time he almost pulled out, only to fill her fully.
“Yes…” He roared the word as lust saturated the air, and he siphoned it, gorging himself on the debauchery in his honor.
His hands released voluptuous flesh to grab a length of Mara’s hair just as she had been about to leave the bed, inhaling deeply of her scent.
He pulled her lips to his, his heated breaths moistening her lips, but not touching. He licked his lips, his tongue ghosting over hers, his eyes intense as they bored into hers.
“I am the ruler of hell, and I will force it to bend to my will.”
Her hands slid down his sides as he spoke, her lips curling into an impish grin right as she sunk her nails into his sides, and his first release hit.
He didn't stop after even spilling, instead continued his frenzied rutting. That and the wild and distant look in his eyes a telling sign the poison had taken complete hold of him. Lost in its fever, the sin-eater would continue to feed and fuck until fully sated.
“Assat Sa,” he mumbled deliriously, and her heart seized in her chest. Impossible…
“Naga…”
The words kept her frozen her in place. Dark gods, how often did he call them out? Who had overheard?
She looked to her warlocks for any recognition of the rarely used Sumerian words, and was relieved to see they were all too caught up in their worship of him to pay any attention to his ramblings. Poisoned as he was, they wouldn’t think anything of him asking for his wife- of calling out for what was his. Calling out for her.
A different life, a different girl, a different demon… not me. Not anymore.
Amara rushed off the bed, cold with shock, with more speed than her protesting body would allow, nearly causing her to faceplant upon the basalt stones of the floor.
She ached, she hurt, but she had kept her word. The demon would not be facing the arch-duchess at a disadvantage. Rather than finding him tormented and starved, Glasya would be finding a king.
Slinging her bag across her shoulder she let out a disheartened sigh and moved for the portal.
“And long may he reign...”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
what did we learn here today?
“You found the sword.”
She hadn’t taken two steps back into her bedchamber when the chilling voice of the Huntsman rang through the room.
“I did,” she responded, setting her bag on the chair with more care than necessary, trying to keep her trembling contained. Dark gods curse that demon and his draw. Her body was in such a state of arousal, a good breeze could likely finish her off.
She turned to fully face the dark Fae, his compelling aura more than she could ignore. He was long and lean and beautiful, his hair a pure black that fell in haphazard chunks around the starkly chiseled bones of his face.
His usual glamour was down, the ancient blue tattoos that ran from his hairline down the left side of his face, curling over shoulder and chest were completely visible. She’d asked about them once, the first time he’d allowed her to see, it had spiraled him into weeks-long madness.
“And?” He stretched out across her bed, patting the empty spot beside him. Presumptuous, yes, but they had been lovers for a century.
She took a steadying breath, trying to compose herself, then made her way over to him. “It didn’t work,” she looked down to study his face. His eyes were bright, alert and showing no signs of his usual madness. “You knew it wouldn’t.”
He shrugged and rolled to his side, resting his hand on her knee and parting the fabric of her robes, her entire body shuddering in response.
“And just what have you been up to, milady?” His fingers trailed up, her breath caught in her throat as he watched her body’s response. “You’re in need and didn’t think to send for me?”
“Gwynn,” she gasped out.
“You smell like the demon.” Gwynn’s gaze flew back to hers, his eyes no longer sparkling with mischief.
He rolled over her, caging his arms around her body. “You went to see him?”
She nodded, a tad breathless, when the Fae’s hips settled between her legs and he rocked against her core. Her hands went to his shoulders, needing to hold him back for a moment, had to keep her head straight for just a minute longer.
“You knew the sword wouldn’t work.” she placed her hand on his cheek and he turned his head to suck her finger into his mouth.
One more minute.
Her body disagreed, rocking up against his hardness.
“Let me see to your needs,” he whispered in her ear, scattering her thoughts as goosebumps prickled down her neck, tightening her nipples into peaks, his clever fingers already strumming across them.
She groaned, “yes, just… right there…”
His fingers found her center, gently sliding through her slick heat, causing shock waves through her body. Dark gods, but she was already there.
“Naughty A stór,” he murmured against her neck as he trailed hot, wet kisses. “Your body is weeping for this.” He enunciated his words with plunging fingers.
He knew every place to touch, every tell of her body. And it was no wonder, Gwynn had not only been her mentor on magics, he had been the one to slowly reintroduce her to the pleasures of the flesh.
His fingers searched out exactly the spot she needed, pulling back over it roughly as his thumb found her clit and mouth found her breast.
Her blood went from liquid magma burning her from the inside, to atomic force explosion. She cried out, her hips rocking up into his touch, her back arching closer to his mouth.
He grunted out a rough groan, his mouth moving over hers to greedily drink down her cries, his fingers still circling, drawing out her response, setting off continual quakes through her body.
She’d barely caught her breath when his hands roughly turned her over and gripped her hips, pulling her up to her hands and knees. His breathing was frenzied, his hands gripping her hard, but he filled her slowly, feeding his erection in until she was so full of him she couldn’t breathe.
They lay like that, breathing heavily, his thumb dragging back and forth across her shoulder, her own moisture trailing down the insides of her thighs.
Then he thrust hard, pulling back up to his knees to thrust harder.
“Uhgn… yes… please…” insensible words were coming from her mouth, she was ready to beg.
“You went to see him?” He slammed into her with a punishing pace, her thoughts scattered. “After you promised to stay away?”
Her legs shook, her insides clenching, throbbing.
“He needed me,” she groaned out.
Her hair was caught up in a tight grip, her face turned to the angry countenance of the Fae, his eyes turned fully gold, lost to madness.
He kissed her hard, deep, devouring her, filling her completely. He pulled back, whispering against her lips, “I need you.”
With a roar, he thrust home, so hard and deep, she shattered around him, her body melting into a boneless heap as he rocked against her, riding out his own orgasm, repeating his words over and over. I need you.
Funny, no one had ever asked what she needed.
He collapsed beside her, throwing his arm across his face, his breathing hard.
Her thoughts returned slowly, more focused after a couple blindingly good orgasms. He hadn’t answered her about the sword. Fae couldn’t lie— he was avoiding the question. Damn distracting male.
“Wh
y didn’t you tell me the sword wouldn’t work?” She huffed and pulled the blanket from beneath her to cover them up, no fire had been lit to chase away the chill of the night.
“There was a good chance it would have.” His eyes slid to hers, back to their normal summer sky blue.
She scoffed, “exactly what were my chances.”
He bit down on his lip, she knew he was weighing his words.
“Don’t even think to twist words, Huntsman.” she reached over with her finger to pull his lip from his teeth.
“Maybe sixty percent.” He closed his eyes, then peeked over when she didn’t answer right away.
Sixty percent was good odds? She’d set herself up for failure, had nearly died in the process, and oh yeah-- had wrought death upon the population of an entire realm.
“It was still worth pursuing. There aren’t many ways to side-step a compact with a god.”
She let out a small screech of indignation. “I DIDN’T MAKE THE CONTRACT.” She threw the blankets from her overheated body and jumped out of bed.
He grabbed her hand and held her in place, keeping her from storming off.
She kept her eyes averted, not wanting him to see how crushed she was. With everything she tried and failed, hope was a swiftly dimming candle. The only thing more frightening than the disappointment which inevitably followed hope, was the loss of it.
“I’m doing what I can to find a way out for you,” he said, his thumb tracing hypnotic circles around her wrist. “Just stay away from the demon. Please.”
Her back stiffened, then her entire body as white-hot rage blared through her.
“You don’t get to dictate my actions.” She said, her voice trembling with menace.
“Amara. A stór,” his voice soothed, calmed. Damned tricksy Fae. “Be reasonable. Think on the repercussions.”
She yanked her arm from his grip and stormed off into her shower, turning it as hot as she could stand. She didn’t calm down until the hot water flowed over her.
Anyone you love, anyone who dares to love you is cursed to die.
She couldn’t stay mad at the Fae. He was right. She couldn’t put Cass at risk. Not Cass, Sin.
Letting out an aggravated groan she pressed her forehead against the cool stone wall. Lines were crossed and blurred, clearly affecting her judgement. Ever since he had come to her cell over a hundred and twenty years ago, she had been diligent in maintaining her distance from the sin-eater. So what had changed?
She drifted off, safe in the arms of the Huntsman, remembering— reminding herself what he was. Not her Cassius. But he also wasn’t his father, and he needed a friend.
“GET OUT!” Cassius shouted.
“DAMN IT CASSIUS LOOK AT HER! Go through with this, and you are no better than him. And I will serve you no longer.” Azadiel snarled back at him.
He knelt in front of her, assessing the damage her cell visitors had been responsible for, that he’d made worse by unleashing his power upon her.
“Finish what you started sin-eater, I dare you. You came to destroy me? THEN FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!” Her words cut off with a dry sob.
“Dark Gods…” He spread her thighs, gently as he could, wincing. “Easy now, I’ll get a healer to see to you.”
His hands were shaking as he carefully secured his shirt around her lower body. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t understand…”
“Cass…?” her voice was soft, her eyes searching his expression.
He held her gaze, clinging to her as if she were an anchor. “I am not my father...”
“No, you are not...”
“No matter your choice, whether you help me overthrow my father or not. I promise you that you will be free, I won’t allow anyone to hurt you again.”
“You’re going to overthrow your father?”
“Azadiel tells me the claim to the throne of Asurim is yours by right. Your realm is dying, and your people along with it. Their usefulness to the demonarchy is only reason the warlocks have managed to survive for this long without their high priestess. I imagine that’s why my father put you here in the first place...”
His hands ran up the chains, giving a sharp tug where they hooked into the wall, then his intense gaze locked onto hers. “I need an ally on that throne. I need the power that can be diverted from their kind. Your kind.”
“And you’ll free me?” She narrowed her eyes.
He let out a surge of infernal magic he’d learned at his father’s knee, popping the chains open at once. He helped her to her feet, bracing her until she had her balance. How long had it been since she’d fully stood?
“You won’t be able to walk out of here. There are things in the works, but if you aid me, Warlock, you can count on my support to regain your throne.”
“When? When will you free me from here?”
“When I feel that I can fully trust you.” His eyes sparkled with malice, but in their depths, she saw his wariness. She knew how few beings were on his side. “I’ll have a healer sent down.” He looked her up and down, “and a decent meal.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
help sometimes come from the least expected places
It was clear she didn’t want to be here. Hells and he hadn’t even been sure she’d come back after that disaster. He couldn’t meet her eyes. He knew, logically, that she’d seen him feed— many times— he’d never involved her before.
Talk about blurring lines. She deserved more from him, and he’d acted like a helpless child. That time had long since passed.
He zoned out, words floating up from his fuzzed thoughts.
“I’m a sin-eater, if I don’t learn to feed, I’ll eventually wither away.”
“Is it that bad? Can’t you refuse?” The sweet tones of his ghost whispered through his mind, sounding affronted on his behalf.
“I just want to hide down here with you, you’re my only friend.”
He shook his head, keeping focus on the present. Effects from the poison lingered, his muddled mind slipping into these new fantasies. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over himself, watching Mara unpack things from her bag, startled at how naturally she fit in his rooms.
His thumb drew back and forth across the mark over his heart he hadn’t bothered to glamour today. He needed it to remind himself he could trust her. She didn’t have a choice and neither did he. It was almost… relaxing. He could let down his guard and breathe.
“He’s gone today?” Mara set one more thing on his dresser and turned to face him, her eyes not meeting his. “Cass! Basileus? Is he gone?”
He blinked. She called him by name— no longer just demon, or sin-eater? She cleared her throat, reminding him she’d asked a question.
“Oh. Yeah. He uh, went to escort Glasya…?”
“You don’t sound sure of that.”
He pushed himself up from the wall and wandered to his side table to pour a glass of water. Dammit. Thoughts together.
He took a long swallow and turned back to her. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thoughts aren’t keeping up with me today,” his hand rubbed across her sigil, pondering why it felt dead today compared to… he probably just needed to feed more.
“They want to train me. I don’t want this.” His voice, his words, his thoughts weren’t providing context.
“They won’t… hurt you?”
Mara’s hand tapped at his cheek. “You’re drinking enough water?”
“Concerned, priestess?” He held up the glass in his hand, “I know to purge the remnants. My mind just hasn’t been right, I think since the sword—”
Her mouth snapped shut. “Perhaps you’d better ease back on the doses.”
“No.” He cut over her words. He needed it. The oblivion and the ecstasy— “You brought everything we’re going to need?”
“We?” She moved a step back from him and he put his hand to her back. She glared up at him, her teeth clenched. “Yes, I brought everything necessary. Let’s get this over with
.”
“So eager to be away from me?” He smiled wide, picking up her hand in his, pushing on her back with his other hand until they were chest to chest. “I thought we agreed to be friends?”
“You agreed.” She said, her jaw still tight, her eyes still averted. “Clearly you’re suffering delusions.”
“Come on Mara. Think of how much fun we’re about to have. I’m looking forward to seeing the look on Bas’s face.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know that Bas will keep his mouth shut. We’re ruining his schemes.”
“He can’t gainsay our witnesses.”
He swayed with her to a beat that played only in his mind. Haunting, familiar, but just out of grasp. He leaned down, whispering in her ear, pretending not to notice her shiver.
“I’ve got my major-domo, the hall is full of ranking nobles, and Bel the Warlord is leading the training down in the Pits today.” He spun her around, his hand encasing hers. “Couldn’t have lined things up better if we’d planned.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath, trying to tug her hand back. “Demon. This was supposed to be planned.”
She had planned. Given him exact details of all that he needed to do. Line up witnesses to confirm they saw the woman he’d killed alive and walking through the Malsheem. Mara would provide a warlock to make this look as though the female was dying due to a spurned love.
“I planned what I could.” His body had taken an entire day to recover from that last bout of poison, he didn’t want to admit that to Mara. That he’d done nothing but languish since she’d left, and now his sister was all but on his doorstep.
He tightened his grip and yanked her in close. “Let’s get this done. I haven’t fed yet today.” He intentionally ran his eyes down her body, then back up. Only to stop at her eyes. They weren’t furious as he’d expected— she looked… sad.
He let her go at once, turning to fix his sword to his belt.