by S J Doran
Where in all the Hells were all her people?
“I’ll take my leave, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not be around when you… sate that hunger that’s out of your control.” With a formal bow, Rasputin exited the room, leaving Cass with the malevolent energy radiating from the skull atop the cushion at the bottom of her throne.
“My King,” Bloise’s skull spoke, the banked white glow in his eyes sockets taking Cass aback. Odd to think his soul was still anchored to what little was left of his body.
“Bloise.” He walked the rest of the way up the dais. “She’s keeping you around.”
“Course she is, kingling. I’m a handy fellow to have around. Well, not entirely ‘hand-y’ at this point. They’ll grow back though at some point.”
His hunger was searching for sustenance, it took all his focus to keep his power from seeking out Bloise’s sins and devouring what was left of his soul. “Right… cause she just keeps bottles of skele-gro lying around.”
“That is a thing, yes?” The Lich King sounded excited. “I at least want my bones back. She promised me my bones in exchange for my knowledge of the Rod.”
“It’s not a thing. It’s from a book.” Cass’s arms folded over his chest. “What knowledge?”
The Rod the Lich spoke of warmed his pocket. Comforting, reassuring. All the power you’ll ever need, it seemed to convey. Just keep me with you and you’ll always be powerful…
“Oh no. My knowledge isn’t free.” The Lich King interrupted his musings. “I want a contract, signed in blood, I want promises, Demon King. The priestess makes me promises.”
The Lich was a few marbles short compared to the last time they spoke.
“Where is she?” He stepped closer to the throne, looking around for clues. “Where did my Priestess get to?”
“Yours?” Bloise laughed, a high-pitched, eerie noise. “Pray tell, how are you going to manage that one? The two of you are the harbingers of the apocalypse. Go ahead, claim her. I’ve no longer got skin in the game.”
“Where is the Warlock Queen?” He lowered his voice, enunciating each word.
“She left. She doesn’t report her schedules to me.”
Cass lunged—
He felt a hand slide in the crook of his elbow and jumped a little, looking over at the woman he vaguely recognized.
She was smaller than Mara, her face obscured by soft folds of cloth drooping from her hood, leaving only crimson-stained lips and glossy black curls visible.
“Lord Cassius, if you continue listening to the rot that one spews, you’ll become maddened as he.” She tugged at his arm, “Sarratum sa awaits you in your rooms in the Nessus, come to the portal, you look ready to collapse.”
Something about her tone was unsettling, his rational thoughts kept nagging at him… she was there with Berith in the Malsheem… didn’t want him to be with Mara...
He followed. Might be walking to his doom, but the promise of seeing her was tempting enough to ignore self-preservation.
“I appreciate you aiding me, Domina…?” He should remember her name, couldn’t.
“Ravanna. And I’m not aiding you,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were so pale they nearly blended with the whites of her eyes. “I’m after seeing my Sarratum returned to her full glory, and this is the most direct way to attain that goal.”
They walked into Mara’s rooms, and they were empty. His hand was at his chest again, rubbing absently, searching for any sort of emotion that would let him feel connected to her. He was beginning to feel feverish, weakness making his bones ache. With a too-bright smile, Ravanna pushed him through the portal to his rooms, the portal dulling, closing off after he stepped through. Or was that his consciousness?
Diva
“Jez?” He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy and dry he couldn’t even blink. “Come back to bed, I’m freezing.”
His body was wracked with shivers, he fumbled around, his hand lagging behind his brain’s dictates, searching for his blankets. He was overcome with weakness, the Rod burning in his pocket, demanding. Too much.
Why wouldn’t his eyes open?
“Can you bring me a glass of water?” He heard Jez moving around the room. Had he made it to Mara’s bedroom? “Mara?”
“There’s no one else here.” A glass of water was shoved into his hands. “Jez took off soon as he saw you collapse.”
He recognized that voice. And her scent. Honey and dreams. Pain sang through his nerve endings, another wave of hunger so consuming it ached.
She tugged roughly at his shoulders, pulling him until the stiff arm of the sofa supported his back, uncaring that his glass full of water had just sloshed over his chest. He was already so cold.
“Drink, Demon King.” Her warm hand closed over his, guiding the glass to his mouth. He swallowed it down in great greedy gulps, the water running over his cheeks when he couldn’t properly lift his head.
“Freezing. Why is it so cold?” He reached again, patting around for a blanket.
“Cold? You’re all sweaty,” Ziva said, her sweet voice tinged with annoyance.
“…’s water,” he mumbled.
Her hand swiped through his hair and another shudder wracked his body, this time not due to cold.
“Ugh,” she groaned, “seriously?”
He felt her patting a blanket over him, her soft hand brushing over his now noticeable erection. His hand flew down to cover himself. That wasn’t for her. He hadn’t meant it.
“What are you even doing here?” He finally managed to blink open his eyes, in time to see confusion wash through her steady gaze.
“You said I could stay here,” she huffed, sitting back on her ankles.
He was in his bedroom. Towering shelves of books glowed in the light of the fire, the lingering scent of old books and lust bringing some semblance of comfort. Mara. She should be here? His mind was static fuzz of semi-consciousness.
“Sorry, love.” Why did she have to look so damned… sweet? “I didn’t realize… where’s Mara?”
Her mouth flattened. “I promised I wouldn’t harm you, but you call me that again and I won’t hang around to help you either. Do you think you can stand? You should shower.”
Mara… her Domina said she’d be here? Why was his mind fucking with him again? Wait… “Why wouldn’t I be able to stand?”
“Jez left you on the floor and I had to drag your sorry butt to this couch. You’re not light, in case you were wondering. You collapsed right at your portal, we weren’t sure you’d wake up.”
She cleared her throat and averted her eyes, but not before he saw a flash of sadness in their sapphire depths. She cared? Didn’t seem likely, since that would see her task accomplished.
“Do you need help getting up?”
“You going to finish me off now?” He looked over her shoulder to her once beautiful gold-tipped wings—they were no longer as vibrant, her radiance fading, many of the gilded feathers missing. “You can get your pretty wings back and go home.”
Her cheeks were bright red. “For a moment, I thought you meant something entirely different.” She gave him a shy smile, and again it took his sluggish brain a few extra moments to connect the dots. Was she… flirting?
He nearly laughed as he sensed her lust, but annoyance won out. He should be used to women viewing him like a slab of meat by now, but some part of him had expected better of her. He’d hoped she would prove a rare exception to his enthrallment. Disappointment was bitter.
He pushed himself onto his elbows, gritting his teeth as he fought off the dizziness and sat up. He was weak. Drained.
Starving.
“You should leave me.” He tried to stand, nearly sinking right back down when his knees refused to lock. “Where’s Mara? I need my Mara.” His thoughts kept slipping away, replaced by a yearning so fierce it burned.
Ziva shook her head and picked up his elbow, holding him steady. “No offense demon king, but no can do. Come on, I’ll
get a shower started for you.”
“Take her,” a dark voice whispered across his thoughts. “Purity must be corrupted.”
“Leave,” he nearly snarled at her, shaking his head, trying to clear it. Not her. He didn’t want her, but Mara. His wife.
He staggered as a new wave of hunger roared through him, sapping what little strength he’d recovered.
“Corruption. Need.”
Her delicate brows came together with a little bunch in the middle, her lips pursed into a scowl. She left him leaning against the wall fighting to stay on his feet. He just wanted to crawl into his bed and huddle into the warmth, just sleep for a while. His eyes were starting to drift shut when he heard the water start up, jarring him awake.
Feed.
No. Not from her.
Her hands were on his shoulders, steering him into the bathroom, his consciousness lapsing and blinking out. He was weak and getting weaker. She was tugging at the waistband of his pants… when had she got his shirt off? He held them closed, growling. The Rod was in his pocket. Can’t let them see.
“You want to shower with your clothes on? Fine.” She shoved him and he nearly tripped over the lip of the shower stall. “Are you even awake?” Her hands were holding his shoulders, shaking him.
“Out.” He blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision. “Get Jez?”
Feed. She wants it. Begging for it, can’t you feel her lust?
He was the king of temptation and this sweet angel was tempting him beyond his endurance.
She huffed and shoved him again, stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind her.
He spaced again, his eyes heavy, the water was so warm. If he could just… sleep for a while…
“Hey,” the voice came with an incessant tapping at his cheek. “Cassius?”
Why couldn’t he get warm? He hated being cold.
“No, no. No.” More shaking. “You can’t sleep in the shower. You’ve run through all the hot water. I shouldn’t have left you in here, but you really do know how to annoy…”
She kept talking, he kept listening, her voice soothing, her scent…
Hells, why wasn’t the corruption from his realm taking the edge off? The Rod. In a panic, he grabbed for his pocket, his pants soaking wet, the Rod burning. So warm.
Feed. Can’t you feel it?
“Demon King, can you cooperate here?” The sweet little angel was forcefully yanking on his arms again. Pulling him to his feet, because he was sitting in the shower.
Damn it. He needed to feed—if he could just get back to the temple in Libiden, he could take what he needed without anyone having to touch him… he took out the Rod and set it on the counter, peeled off his wet pants, and braced himself so he could catch his breath.
Fuck she smelled so good.
With awkward movements, she secured a towel around his waist, picking up another, stretching to reach his hair, her breasts brushing against his chest. Their eyes met, her cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment. A new wave of lust hitting him like a gut punch. She needed to leave.
“I can do it.” He covered her hands with his, meaning to take the towel from her, but her hands were so warm—and he was freezing. He just held them there for a moment.
“You know I’m supposed to kill you.” She didn’t move her hands away. “Not help you bathe.”
He was so fucking starved he couldn’t see straight.
She smelled like salvation.
He moved in closer, the towel falling forgotten, and she stepped back, one step at a time until she was against the wall and her already heavy breaths were coming out in pants.
Just a taste.
His mouth was watering for it.
“You could always seduce me.” He grabbed up her hands and held them above her head, bringing his lips to hers, nearly touching, he could feel the fuzz of her energy tingling on his lips. “Or is that option off the table now?”
He was so weak he was nearly swaying on his feet, but she didn’t try to fight herself free. Worse, she was willing. Dark Hells help him.
He just needed…
Her breath panted out, and when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, it grazed his bottom one, sending a shock through his system. His hips rocked forward instinctually, seeking her heat.
Their eyes met, her pupils were fully blown, her lids heavy. Hells and she wanted this as much as he needed it.
He pressed his lips to hers. Softly. Gently sucking, turning his head to deepen it. He released her hands, needing to touch her... that skin...
His hands found the bottom of her shirt, easing under it and wrapping around her waist. Her hands dug into his hair, pulling him down and her mouth started devouring his.
Her lust hit him in a rush, strengthening him as his mind blanked.
He pulled back. Ripped off her shirt, got an eyeful of her gleaming skin before she pulled him back to her mouth, moaning softly as their tongues met.
He was lust… he needed to feed… he was corruption. Why fight it?
His hands cupped her naked breasts, thumbs brushing across her peaked nipples, back and forth... she swayed into them, arching into his touch. So fucking responsive.
He was losing it.
He tried to pull away, wanting to suckle her breasts—needed to taste her—she wouldn’t let him go, her mouth relentlessly attacking his, she couldn’t get enough. Hells, he couldn’t get enough.
The weakness that had been fogging his mind was clearing, his body strengthening even as desire maddened him.
His hands worked her pants free, pushing them down as far as he could reach, using his foot to push them off the rest of the way. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and she moaned deeper, her hands gripping the back of his head.
His fingers parted her folds, moving against her slick heat—dark gods she was so wet—fucking losing it. He needed to taste—she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, licking it when she released it—so fucking hot—then she captured his tongue, sucking it lightly.
Every last shred of control he was hanging onto was blasted out of him.
Corrupt. Feed. He was lust, and she was a feast.
His hands jerked, fighting to free his raging erection from the confines of the towel that was loosely wrapped around his waist. Hells and if he even touched himself he would shoot off.
She smelled so. Fucking. Good.
He slid the crown of his cock up and down from her core to her hardened clit. Back and forth. She was moaning in his mouth, little mewling pleas of desperation. His hand shook as he plumped one breast then the other, pinching her nipples into peaks. They dragged over his chest- and he would have swore if he could have caught his fucking breath.
Fuck. He was going to come.
Needed to be inside of her.
The scent of her desire was urging him into a frenzy.
He breached her entrance, her sheath clenched around him—he was not going to spill when he was barely inside-
He thrust hard and deep—
She screamed. Not in pleasure.
He pulled out, belatedly realizing —fuck— she hadn’t done this before.
It was pure corruption that flooded his cells now. Whatever ailment his body had been suffering burned away—
He’d just stolen an angel’s virginity.
He wasn’t even sure his father could boast such a deed.
Corrupt her. Not enough. Never enough. Why did those words feel so familiar to him?
Her eyes were squeezed tight, her teeth pressed to her lip. He cupped his hand over her mound, dropping his head to the wall beside hers.
He wasn’t his father.
He’d just… flashes of another time, another girl, his father’s hands on her pale thighs… Mara… No. What had he done?
“Why the hells didn’t you tell me you’ve never done this before?” He fought for composure, his cock still screaming with the need to release.
She peeked open her eyes. “That was it
then?”
Anger buzzed through him. At himself. Disgust. Guilt. He was lust, and he was better than this. Show her.
He laughed humorlessly. “No. You should have told me.” His thumb dragged through her pubic curls, his hand still, wishing he could take away the pain he’d surely just caused her.
“I thought you knew. You said before you were drawn to my purity.”
He kissed her, soft teasing nibbles. “Your soul. I meant your soul. I can’t tell that you’re a virgin just by looking at you,” he groaned again, against her mouth. “Were a virgin. Were.” Show her.
No. He didn’t want this. Mara…
“I’m sorry. I don’t know…” He said, pulling his hand back. What was he doing? She moaned softly when his fingers slid through her curls, the sound scattering his thoughts.
Hunger burned through him again, the Rod siphoning away the power he’d just gained. Feed. Take her, corrupt her entirely.
Need this.
He pulled her legs around his waist and lifted her into his arms.
“What?” She slapped his chest. “Let me down. I need to…”
Her words trailed off into a throaty moan when he pulled her up against his hard shaft.
Take her. Corrupt. You are Lust…
He ran back to the bathroom and ran a cloth under some hot water, rinsing the blood from his hand. Brutally savage. He’d never before hurt a female like that. The Rod sat gleaming on the counter. He’d forgotten. He grabbed it up, carrying it back into his room in one hand, the cloth in the other.
Take it slow, don’t scare her off. Need this.
He set the Rod on his nightstand, even if she saw it, she wouldn’t recognize what it was, and threw the blanket off her, her arm shooting up to cover her breasts. He pressed the cloth between her legs, wiping up the smears of blood on her inner thighs.