Blood Stained Tranquility

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Spari stopped at the entrance, just in sight of Nylicia’s projection. She was deep in conversation with another projection.

  “You didn’t tell me when you sent me to spy on him that he is part of M-Kon!” Lizzisi, Goddess of Light, complained with a deep frown on her face.

  Oh, lookie there. Someone else her sister was hiding shit from and sending off into the middle of messes.

  Spari so wasn’t surprised.

  “And?” Nylicia asked, with the kind of disregard that only she could pull off.

  Spari clenched her fists.

  “Does she know he exists?” Lizzisi asked. “Do either of them know that we know where they are now?”

  “Nope. Not yet. But I promise you, Liz. You get this done, and the Brahmastra is yours. I would think that the mercenary in you would be more concerned about that then the minor details.”

  “Minor details, my ass.” A projection of Lizzisi’s dark-haired twin, Sillizi, came to life behind Nylicia. The Goddess of Darkness crossed her arms, glaring at Nylicia. “These are big details, Nyl. Their brothers? Nylicia, these are their brothers and they’re working with the enemy.”

  “It’s not the first time in history this has happened. We all know why Shakespeare became so famous. The Universe specializes in family drama.”

  Only one thought rang out through Spari’s head after hearing her sister say that.

  Irooonnnyyyy.

  “Besides, it’s not a forever situation. You two are supposed to bring them in when the time is right. This is the Brahmastra and the Pashupatastra we’re speaking about, ladies.” Nylicia threw her hands in the air, all melodramatic and shit. “That was the deal. You guys spy on them and then bring them in when I tell you. These are two of the most powerful weapons in the Universe. Helllooo?”

  Damn those mercenaries. Instead of staying pissed off at her sister, they were giving her grudging looks of respect.

  “And how did you come by them again?” Sil asked.

  “Stole ‘em.”

  Of course she did, Spari thought, crossing her arms.

  “Of course you did,” Liz drawled.

  Spari smiled bitterly, nodding.

  “You two will have better uses for them than Brahma, Shiva, or Kali ever would. Those three are permanently vacationing on their dimension, anyway.”

  Sillizi shook her head. “When are we bringing them in, then?”

  “When I tell you. Until then, keep feeding me the intel. And keep the fact that you know Kaden and Alexis’s locations to yourselves. As far as anyone knows, you are not on this mission. Got it?”

  The Exivisi Genelhi actually had the gall to nod their heads before their projections disappeared. Fuck. They might as well have bowed to her sister.

  Spari’s eyes flickered to the bed in the far corner of the room, where her sister’s actual body lay. In stasis, her eyes were closed, her skin nearly gray from lack of circulation and blood. It was the state she had to usually keep herself in just to survive the Fieren that had long ago become worse than a cancer inside her.

  This time, Spari refused to feel bad. Not with the future she could imagine so clearly before her. She would never let Cyake claim her. If she mated to him, she’d be condemned to seeing every single lover that uber-whore had ever taken during his long fucking lifetime.

  Nylicia looked at Spari, followed her line of sight, turning to stare at herself on that bed, then turned back around to face her sister.

  “You knew,” Spari said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “You knew what would happen when you sent me to that mall.”

  Nylicia’s response was as quick as it was nonchalant. “Yes.”

  Spari lost it. “I am not one of your fucking machinations to do with as you please!”

  “No one is. It’s all too important,” Nylicia said in that same flat tone.

  “To your fucking war!” Spari stormed toward her, pointing in her face. “And you are willing to sacrifice everything for that. Including your own sister.” She hated herself when she felt her eyes water and her throat close up tight. But, damn it, after everything they’d been through together, Nylicia’s betrayal was almost too much to bear.

  You’re not that innocent Spari. You gave him that amulet two thousand years ago at Delphi and told him he’d have her back one day.

  Spari ignored her own conscience, too angry to hear the logic or the echo of her own guilt. “You fucking betrayed your own sister!”

  Her accusation slapped any and all apathy out of Nylicia. “I did it because you’re my gods-damned sister!”

  “Nylicia . . . he’s the reason I was condemned. Because I refused to reap Karma on one being—him—once, the Fates punished me. He’s broken thousands of hearts, has never paid for it, because I felt a ridiculous compulsion to spare him. And thanks to that, I’ve had one traumatizing life after another—fourteen hundred fucking times!”

  In the silence that followed Spari’s declaration, it was two sisters, eye-to-eye, their heartbreak pulsing loudly between their stares.

  “I know that, Karma,” Nylicia said, and Spari could have sworn she saw tears in her eyes. “I know that. But you can’t handle one more reincarnation. You can’t, baby girl. You’re my little sister, you always will be, no matter how many times you reincarnate. I have to protect you. Your time to leave this life is coming soon. You’re sick down to your very soul from all the memories of all those lifetimes eating at you. I did this because I saw that he would be the thing to save you from this.”

  Spari struggled to take a breath. The guilt whispered inside her again. Did you not see something similar all those years ago? Did you not set Cyake’s brother on a course that she knows nothing about? A course that will inevitably lead her back to him? A course Spari couldn’t say anything about. If she did, Nylicia would find a way to alter it, and it was the only way to save her sister.

  Spari knew damned well that when the time came, her sister was going to fight it all the way down. She was going to. Because, just like Spari, she had every damned reason to do so.

  “You really think I want to belong to the being responsible for my punishment? What am I supposed to do? Just forgive him for everything I’ve been through, every pussy he slammed into, and every heart he ever broke, and then lay back and happily spread my legs for him to claim me?”

  Nylicia flinched at that.

  “I don’t care that he didn’t know until now who I was and that he doesn’t know what I’ve done for him. Never, in fourteen thousand freaking years, did he stop. Not once did he wise up. I suffered because he didn’t. And now you expect me to forgive him? Why would I want to be with a male like him?”

  “He can save you. Your soul will not come out of one more lifetime intact. It’s for your own good, Spari. Please.”

  Spari swore to herself that she would remember that line forever. And the day the time came, the Gods help her sister, because she was going to throw that line back in her face.

  She knew how hypocritical she was being, but she had to know. “Tell me, Nylicia,” she said, moving closer. “If your destiny was the reason you’re like this”—she pointed at the bed, where Nylicia’s barely living body lay—“would you just forgive him? Just like that?”

  Nylicia’s projection actually paled, and on the bed, her body twitched. “Spari, no. Don’t go there. It’s not the same thing.”

  “I will. Because it is!”

  “No! It’s not, and you know it!”

  Spari wasn’t going to let her side step that one so easily. “All the same, answer me.” She stormed up to her sister’s face, staring her projection in the eye as her heart gave a painful squeeze. “If I told you to forgive Cyake’s brother, would it be so fucking easy for you?”

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  Exclusive first look at

  Blood Drenched Conquest,

  the third book in the S
zolite Series.

  The futuristic world outside had been one hell of a surprise. If anyone had told Soleria that North Eren looked like a twenty-sixth-century version of Earth’s best and most beautiful cities combined? Well, she would’ve told them to go fruck themselves, that’s what. She had no idea what she had expected the land of the mind Erencei to look like, but this wasn’t it.

  Her inner geek was having an orgasm. It was a miracle she wasn’t squirting down her thighs.

  Eve’s inner geek would be, too, but the lucky whore was actually getting real orgasms now. She probably didn’t have time to pay attention to anything outside of her sexy red-haired god and his juicy, tattoo-like markings—the same god who was, for all intents and purposes, Sol’s great-uncle times thirteen thousand.

  Ew, she had to stop thinking that shit. Like now.

  Then again, it’d been years since she’d gotten laid, so it kinda made sense that her sexual musings had started to degrade into the lowest of the low.

  Lies. There’s been sex. As in: S.E.X.

  Nope. Not true. What had happened weeks ago didn’t count. Her brain and clit may be refusing to accept that little tidbit, but Sol knew better. He hadn’t even been able to fit it all the way in.

  Never mind that she had enough orgasms to revile anything she would ever experience again.

  Damn it. No. It doesn’t freaking count, and I’m done thinking about it.

  More lies. She walked down the pounding club’s hallway, feeling like the memories of that night were chasing after her. Right on her ass. Breathing down her damn neck like he had that ni—

  No, no, no, and no! She was here to party, to have a good time. To go The Hangover on everything and anything before the responsibility of being empress was slammed onto her head. And having a good time was dependent on ignoring those memories.

  Besides, no matter how hot that night had been, it had all ended just as she expected it would. No, worse. She might have expected another female to come into the picture, but not fucking minutes afterward.

  There was one consolation: Sol’s juices had still been all over his dick when he’d gone to give it to that other little slut.

  And one day, she would stop lying to herself about that. Because that shit wasn’t a consolation. That shit was just more kindling for an already raging inferno of fury.

  She pushed aside the black curtain blocking the private entrance from the club.

  Techno-fucking-mania.

  And was that—no way. Were they really playing Enrique Iglesias’s Dirty Dancer?

  It was the album version!

  I’m frucking in love.

  Soleria was out on that black, electric dance floor in a flash. The flashing lights danced along the tops of her leather-covered thighs. Beneath her boots, sparks of energy bounced inside the floor in time with the music.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Eve, hands in her hair, and hips moving to the beat.

  Zeniel had all but wrapped himself around her. His large hands held her ass as he brought her flush against his groin. Eve smiled at him, latching onto his hair, and fucking up his ponytail as she brought him to her mouth.

  Holy mouth fuck and dry hump combined.

  Swallowing, Soleria looked away—and ended up with an eyeful of Ismini being mounted inside one of the corner booths. Dyletri was between her legs, dry-fucking the breath out of her, and he was starting to glow so hard that Sol was tempted to volunteer him for disco ball duty.

  How the hell was it that her formerly virginal friends had ended up with sexy gods to fuck the life out of them whenever they needed, while Sol, who was more than half-a-decade older and had once had a pretty active sex life, was cockless?

  Oh, right. Because they were all mated to each other.

  If he had just . . .

  What the flying fruck was wrong with her brain? Was it purposely trying to ruin her night? That motherfucker was lucky he hadn’t mated to her. And if he ever did?

  Well, she wanted him to suffer, yes, but thinking about what she’d do to Ianthen if he was mated to her made her feel a twinge of pity. Just a twinge. Not enough to stop her from causing him pain, though. Because she would never forgive him, never forget what he’d done and what she’d seen, which meant he’d be trapped in the mating, suffering for her.

  That’s why you blew up an entire mountain to get him out of that place. Right.

  Fucking hormones.

  That was it. She had been given an entire world of immortals to choose from. It was a delicious, mouthwatering smorgasbord, actually. Erenceis, Vy’shis, and Sesengts galore. It was time she get her world rocked by one of those well-endowed fuckers. After all, she was only looking for a dildo with a body attached, and immortal men were notoriously horny.

  She needed to get laid—for real this time—with wall-banging, furniture-breaking intensity.

  Maybe then she’d be able to forget that motherfucker and how he’d felt.

  Smelled.

  Sounded.

  Tasted.

  Damn it!

  She materialized in front of the bar, grabbed a huge bottle that had been meant for a black-haired mind Erencei, and chugged that entire shit down in one shot.

  When it was gone she caught sight of Dimithinia in tight jeans, a black open sweater, and a belly shirt underneath. All very sexy, especially considering that she was dancing like something straight out of a Shakira video. Then again, Ritrio had apparently inspired both Indian and Egyptian culture alike.

  But what the hell was up with the sweater? Wasn’t she hot?

  Oh, she’s hot all right.

  Sol snickered. If she had swung that way, she’d have violated Dimi right in front of Crius. Snickering at the thought, she placed her bottle on the bar and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one.

  The mind demon she’d taken the first one from leaned against the bar, his white-and-black eyes amused. He was sexy. Really sexy. And he had intricate white and black markings trailing down his cheeks and onto his neck. He had the prominent cheekbones, too.

  Soleria had an affinity for beings that were close to her ancestral species. They were a sexy lot. Herself included.

  She would’ve paid him more attention, but at that moment, her second bottle of whatever-the-hell-it-was had arrived, and she had moved on to searching out Crius. Searching and praying that he was seeing this.

  She caught sight of him almost instantly. The male looked absolutely bitable in a pair of black leathers and a black turtleneck. There was no way she could miss the force of his glare. It was like a palpable energy pulsating through the room. His silver, pupilless eyes were focused on one spot and one spot only.

  That’s what Sol called a first-class eye fuck right there. Sitting with Hades at a table on the left, he was staring at Dimi with the angriest, horniest expression Sol had ever seen on a male’s face.

  Her friends were lucky whores. For real.

  She threw her head back, laughing at him.

  The gorgeous piece of meat next to her leaned closer. Soleria turned to him, seeing his lips moving. He was saying something, but even with her new, immortal superhearing she couldn’t make out what.

  Damn. He really was sexy. Frightening with his white-on-black eyes, but in a totally masculine “I’ll break you in half while I fuck you” way.

  Too bad his features were getting lost behind a rapidly expanding blur.

  Soleria put a hand to her forehead. She shook her head, trying to get some focus going. Heat rushed through her. It erupted from her stomach and spread out, slashing her veins. Her skin flushed hot, and her pulse fluttered all over the place.

  Holy shit. What the hell had she just drunk?

  Her instincts careened straight into her pelvis, pulling her out onto the dance floor and into the midst of all the writhing bodies. She raised her white belly shirt higher, grabbed onto her hair with one hand, and lost it.

  She freaking lost it.

  The air became her lo
ver, her hips ground against it as if there were a cock under her. The music was already loud and demanding, but suddenly it was inside her in a way she never imagined.

  As Enrique and Usher sang about doing it right, Sol dove her other hand into her hair, holding on and rotating this way and that as the music fucked her on the dance floor, in front of everyone.

  Dimi had to be drunk on the same thing. She had to be, and this shit was some real good shit. Endorphins rushing, she threw her body from side to side, letting her abs flex back and forth like Dimi’s had just been doing.

  A huge mass of muscles appeared in her way and she ran into it, her ass colliding with something so good. Something familiar.

  Too familiar.

  The scent she caught was even worse. It wrapped around her like a pheromone-drenched blanket. An insane rush of arousal hit her. Soleria bit into her bottom lip and felt blood hit her tongue.

  A low growl trembled around the shell of her ear and nearly took her feet out from under her.

  Her uterus detonated under the pressure.

  Soleria gasped, grasping desperately at the part of her brain responsible for muscle command and screaming at herself to move the fuck away.

  She didn’t get the chance.

  A hand latched onto her hip. A hand she knew well. Just like she knew the length that was pressing into her ass, and the scent assaulting her cerebral cortex. She didn’t need to look behind her. She fucking knew.

  Ianthen spun her around.

  Her heart curled into itself, like the sun preparing to implode.

  Dear Lord. The way his white T-shirt stretched across his pecs not only brought back memories, it brought forth fantasies. Fantasies that broke free of her mind before she could stop them.

  Mouth hanging open, she stood there, horrified to feel her eyes lowering, taking in the length of him.

  Her Erencei markings singed her skin, feeling like hot brands that pulsated toward him.