Stigmata

by L M Adams

  My mouth feels cottony and tastes of an old bag of pennies. My breath probably smells atrocious.

  “Another hour.” I sound horribly pitiful as I try to pull on Jack’s heartstrings, so he’ll take pity on me.

  “No Jaevia… get up and go get Lucien, he left his tablet in the kitchen and he’s up on the roof fucking around. He needs to get a shower too. We’re running behind, we still need to get the rings, pick out the menu, order the flowers and get a fucking band that doesn’t sound like something from a 70s porno.”

  “Just stream some music.”

  “Dark King claim me woman! We’re the Kings and Queen and you want to stream the music at our fucking wedding?!”

  “Why are you so fucking boujie?!” I shout getting angry for no reason other than wanting to be left alone and Jack doing everything but leaving me alone.

  “Boujie?” His voice almost cracks with his indignation. “How about stressed, Jaevia, I’m fucking stressed and I don’t need your shit! When did I become the Lucien and Jae wrangler?”

  I sit up in the bed finally, pushing back the covers.

  “Is there such a thing as a groomzilla? Because you’re a fucking groomzilla.”

  “Here!” He shoves a mug of coffee at me and turns away striding to the door, looking down at his tablet. Already moving on to whatever is next on his written-in-stone to-do list; ignoring my ire.

  I slit my eyes at him and swear to the Dark Goddess herself… one day I’m going to delete those fucking lists just so I can watch his life fall apart.

  “Thank you for the coffee,” I mutter… already plotting my revenge.

  “You’re welcome, now get your ass out of bed.” he slams the door behind him.

  With nothing to do but either push him out of a window or get my ass up… I choose to be a good fiancé and get my ass up.

  The shower helps, the coffee helps more. By the time I’m cleaned up, dressed in one of Luey’s black undershirts, a pair of black lace panties and a fluffy purple robe (with the slippers to match) I’m ready to face the world… mostly.

  I shuffle out of the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen; I need a refill of coffee before I really get dressed… I’m sure Jack’s stuffing me in a dress again today – we’ll be in the public’s eye.

  As usual I find one of the berserker boys in the kitchen – standing over the warming plates on the side counter, licking his chops. Jack designed the kitchen to comfortably feed and seat six… at last count we have sixteen coming and going and although there’s a second kitchen on the second floor – every person in the household finds a reason to come up here for – ‘Jack eats’… they’ve actually started referring to anything he cooks as ‘Jack eats’ like it’s a food group. ‘Hey, any Jack eats left? Nah man, you snooze you lose’ and losing usually means having to be content with a lunchmeat sandwich… you’d think we’d adopted a gang of teenagers rather than hired a group of killing machines.

  They’re up here so often at this point it would be odd not to spot one of them in the large galley kitchen. Sitting at the center marble island. Or further back near the small pane frosted windows sitting at the long dinner table as they devour a plate piled a mile high with ‘Jack eats.’

  Our current guest is Adam, with dark hair he’s letting grow out. Standing a bit under six feet, muscles for days like most of the berserkers I’ve met. He usually mans the forest area circling the warehouse. Something about him still isn’t tamed, a wilder heart than the rest, he prefers the outdoors. I think he sleeps in the woods sometimes… but he always comes up here for mealtime at least.

  “Leave some for the rest of us,” I yawn and shuffle over to the waiting coffee pot near the massive stainless-steel refrigerator – honestly the thing is one step down from restaurant grade.

  “My Queen,” I hear a plate clatter to the floor and turn in surprise.

  I don’t spot the berserker until I stand on my tip-toes and lean over the black marble island in the center of the kitchen. The foolish man-boy is on his knees, head bowed, as still as a statue.

  “What happened?” I ask, honestly curious.

  “My Queen… I have displeased you.”

  I lean back, feet flat on the floor and scratch my eyebrow. “You have not.”

  “Not to contradict your word… but I feel your irritation, my Queen.”

  I sigh. I swear to god I’m tired of everyone rattling around in my head. I’m really going to have to figure out a way to shield better, which means I need to learn how to let people in… I don’t understand magic.

  “I’m generally irritated. Jack and I had a tiff this morning, I’m hungover… that’s it.” I turn back to the coffee pot. “Clean up the mess before Jack loses his shit over it, he’s in a mood and I don’t need to hear him going on all day about you all not cleaning up, not bringing the plates back upstairs, eating the cooking meat raw when it’s clear he’s set it aside for dinner…” I rattle off the many things that irritate Jack… yet for some reason he always makes sure to cook enough food for the B-boys to get a plate too.

  Jack just likes to complain.

  “Yes, my Queen. Of course, my Queen.”

  “Do you think you can call me Jae?!” I snap.

  A low whine escapes from the back of his throat. He acts as if I’ve just taken the whip to him.

  “Adam…” I sigh. “Please just clean up the mess, okay?” I ask in a measured tone, using all of my concentration to scrub the irritation from my voice.

  “I am here for relief if ever needed, Carter is not the only of us that would welcome a night with your tender mercies.”

  I think he’s using ‘tender mercies’ ironically. We all know I’m neither tender nor merciful.

  Because my life is shit, Carter picks just that moment to walk into the kitchen. A rolling smell of rotting meat and blossoming roses escapes him, the temperature in the kitchen seems to rise.

  I stand frozen, feeling horribly guilty, having no reason to. I don’t owe Carter or Adam or anyone other than Lucien and Jack an explanation for what we did last night.

  Carter seems to take it all in with a look. His crystal blue eyes harden. Before I can form a word or a thought, he walks over to Adam, kneels, and grabs the berserker by the back of the neck, forcing Adam’s face to the food on the floor.

  I rush around to their side of the island.

  “Eat your mess, filthy mutt.” Carter orders Adam in a growling voice, establishing his dominance.

  Adam must not see himself as enough berserker to fight back because he begins eating the food from the floor like a dog.

  It would be one thing if my pussy didn’t clench with need, it would be one thing if I didn’t genuinely enjoy seeing Carter force Adam to submit.

  It would be one thing, but I am another thing entirely.

  I breathe out slowly, calmly, drawing myself back into myself before this goes anymore sideways than it already is.

  Carter stares into my eyes, burrowing into my soul – he knows, like I know – I enjoy seeing him hurt men, I enjoy seeing him hurt Adam and to deny it would mean denying my very nature.

  But I must, because somewhere in this heaping pile of shit I call my life – I still do want to be a good person.

  “Back off, Carter.” I say in a measured tone.

  He shoves Adam’s head away before he stands up. His breathing is deep, and I can see the monster right beneath the surface. It wants out.

  “Go and see your Pax.” I say softly but with authority.

  His fingers flex at his side.

  “Or do we need another lesson in obedience?” I ask almost hissing.

  He bows his head and begins whining in the back of his throat.

  “Go now.”

  “My Queen,” he turns sharply on his heel and slinks out of the room. The smell of need and filth and guilt and sorrow trails behind him. A toxic mix of emotion that I don’t think even his Pax will be able to relieve him from.

  I rush to kneel by Adam, he
’s weeping into the floor.

  “Shh, just shh.” I pet his head gently.

  “Let me finish, my Queen,” he begs me with all of his heart.

  “No, no.”

  “Please! If I do not, he will punish me.”

  “He won’t!”

  Adam looks up at me, tears in bloodshot eyes. “You know that he will.”

  I know that Carter won’t punish Adam for not eating the food off the floor, no, Carter wants to punish Adam for offering himself to me – this is just a pretense. I know the law of the berserkers and Carter will see this as a challenge to his authority, he is after all, the ranking berserker at the warehouse.

  “Make it easier on me, please my Queen. Let me feel like I’m serving you.”

  I inhale sharply, wishing I did not wish to so god damn much!

  “He was right… you are a filthy mutt, and you like being treated like one,” I whisper and pull away standing up.

  He whimpers and turns back to eating off the floor as I stand above him with the warring emotions of desire and shame filling my very soul.

  We cannot keep going like this. I just can’t, I like this too much, I want this too fucking much. I get to be a monster at Kiss… but I can’t bring that home with me… I can’t.

  By the time he’s done I know I have to talk to Lucien about it. Maybe it is time to switch out the guards… or something else. But I can’t let what I am, what we are at Kiss spread any further.

  “Go get cleaned up and take off the rest of the day… make yourself scarce when Carter returns.” I murmur and turn away… almost running to the roof… I fucked up, I fucked up badly.

  14

  Jaevia

  I find Lucien on the roof, picking up large bags of planter soil from a pallet of the stuff beside the greenhouse. He’s working without his shirt, the morning sun shining down on him. I’m sure he knows I’m here, but he doesn’t turn towards me, giving me a full view of his back. Something magical is happening in his stigmata, it glitters gold and almost a deep green, like the thicket of a forest.

  Seeing Carter abuse Adam was hot… but nothing compares to seeing Lucien half naked. He’s wearing black BDU pants tucked into combat boots. When he stands, hefting two large bags of soil on his shoulders, big thick arms clutching the bags, the muscles in his back flex and my mouth goes dry as he turns towards me.

  “Good morning, Wench.”

  “Morning, Luey,” I whisper out in a sing-song voice like a daft young girl, I stop myself just short of twirling my hair with my finger.

  He looks at me with a knowing smile and walks towards me. I watch his arms tighten around the bags before he bends to snag a kiss… it’s quick and sweet and over far sooner than I wish it to be. He hefts the bags on his shoulders again, rebalancing them, as he stands up straight and turns away.

  I follow behind him, mug in hand, a bit besotted.

  “Did the Bloodsucker send you to harass me into getting ready for the day?”

  I huff smiling, “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I can feel his irritation; he thinks we’ll be late.”

  “He always thinks we’ll be late.”

  Lucien nods but doesn’t seem to be in a rush to go and get ready.

  We walk through the proverbial garden of Eden covering the roof. Large plants, bushes and vines grow tall, some even as tall as Lucien. There are small seating areas peppered about, little coves I curl up in to read or nap at times.

  I may be a child of Lilith, a goddess of the Moon, but my heart warms in the bounty of Gaia. Perhaps it is another contradiction of Persephone within me. She was both the goddess of spring and the queen of the damned – being a goddess is… complicated.

  Even with winter hanging on a bit longer than expected, life is bursting through with a vengeance. Between Kitty’s know-how and the pixy’s magic… the rooftop garden and the grounds of the warehouse will be a thicket of Gaia.

  The small pixy creatures aren’t very friendly, preferring to stick to the underbrush, or hidden within the flowers. At times I’ll catch a blur of colorful wings beating in the air.

  No one would know they’re such apt spies. But they are. They carry information from Ra’suá to me. From Peterus to me.

  I push away from the thoughts of home with a sadness in my heart. Things aren’t good at home, not good at all. There’s just not much I can do about it. I’m excommunicated, banished, a pariah amongst my people. But even that hurt seems to wash away under the sea of ‘don’t give a shit’ which I currently call my home.

  Instead I turn to another point of contention. “I think I made a mistake with Carter last night, Luey.”

  I whisper my concern and wait for him to fix it; Lucien is after all their king. If anyone can straighten out this mess… he can.

  “Oh aye?” He turns down one of the pathways through the garden and puts down the large bags of soil beside a bare patch in a planter box.

  “Yes.” I sigh. “Harper asked me to punish Carter to keep Carter from leaving the Queen’s Guard.”

  He rips open one of the bags and glances up to me, his eyes twinkling with gold and red. “And you did this, Wench?”

  I nod, “I probably took it too far.”

  “Did you forgive him then?” Lucien begins scooping the dark earth from the bag with his large hands and spreading it in the planter box.

  I open my mouth, and close my mouth… and think, did I forgive him?

  “No,” I have to admit.

  He looks up at me again. “So, you punished him and did not extend forgiveness?”

  I sigh, “Yes.”

  He nods and goes back to spreading the soil. “What has happened?”

  I tell him the details of what happened between Carter and Adam in the kitchen, “…I ordered Carter to visit his Pax, he’s unstable.”

  “Aye he is, Wench. If you were going to punish him, forgiveness should have been offered as well. Now he’s living in need to see you pleased with him and will challenge anyone he feels is a threat to his gaining that forgiveness.”

  “You mean he got pissed at Adam because he thought Adam was taking the forgiveness that was his?”

  He grunts.

  I throw up an errant hand, “Forgiveness isn’t pie! It’s not like if I give Adam forgiveness there won’t be any left for him!”

  Lucien nods, “Perhaps, Wench. But your love and attention are a finite resource. You cannot love all, forgive all, give all so much of yourself.” Lucien shrugs, “I would not allow it anyway.”

  I raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean you would not allow it?”

  “For once, I am not being a jealous bastard. You would wear yourself thin if you tried to take in everyone, it would be impossible. It is okay for you to be selfish.” He sighs, “But you should not have punished Carter if there was no forgiveness at the end of his torment, a man needs something to believe in when he serves.”

  “Even you?” I ask in a whisper.

  He nods again, “Aye, Wench, even me.”

  “And what do you believe in?”

  He takes the mug from my hand and sets it on the ground as he stands up, dusting off his hands, the dark soil falls from his fingertips and seems to take forever to reach the ground.

  Time distorts around Lucien sometimes. Nothing cataclysmic, but it is something unexplained, unknown, and just a slight bit scary.

  I lick my lips wanting him instantly. There is a wild madness in his eyes, an all-consuming need to possess every inch of me. He’s hunting, he’s hunting me. I’m intimately familiar with that look; it is the same look he gave me when we were but children, and he knew that no other woman would ever do.

  “What… what do you believe in?” I ask again, almost shuddering with fear and desire.

  “That it is time for me to be a jealous bastard and prove to all that I am the king of this molehill.”

  “You don’t need to be insecure over Carter.”

  “Aye, I do.”

  I swallow hard
, “I would never give my heart to him.”

  His thumb traces the edge of my jaw gently and he actually smiles with a flash of gorgeous white teeth. “I know you wouldn’t, now I need to make sure you never give him my kitten.”

  “I won’t, Luey, I promise.” I whine out almost pitifully.

  He shakes his head no.

  “I’ll be a good girl.” I whisper.

  “I’m sure you will, after I fuck the living shit out of you.”

  My heart drops and I do the only thing left available to me… I turn and I run.

  He gives me a head start, I’m sure with two lunges he could have caught me, but he lets me pull away so that he can stalk me… hunt me. Sometimes I have to let him be who he is. A barbaric, jealous beast who will never really be okay with sharing me with anyone, and if I think for one minute I’m allowed to fuck the guards, he’ll set me straight.

  I almost giggle. I can’t wait for him to ‘catch’ me and ‘punish’ me and make me be a good girl.

  “Come now, Wench, the sooner the hate-fucking begins the sooner the hate-fucking can end.” I hear him call out as I dart behind a lattice panel covered in vines.

  I take off the slippers, the white stones on the roof will hurt a bit, but I’ve never been afraid of a little pain and my bare feet will be quieter than kicking up the stones with my fluffy slippers.

  “If I make it to the door, you get no kitten for a week!” I yell and get moving before he tracks my voice.

  I take off down another isle, this one filled with flowering bushes at least eight feet tall. What I wouldn’t give for some green war paint right now.

  “Oh aye, Wench?” He calls out and from the direction of the sound, I know he’s near the lattice I was just hiding behind.

  I turn to map my next move and spot one of the small female pixies partially hiding behind one of the lavender blooms in the bush. The pixy stands no more six inches tall, the largest part of their body being the large colorful dragonfly wings. Small oval face, large expressive eyes that tilt a bit at the corners. This one seems young and is wearing a pretty green frock. Her flesh pale, almost translucent.