Goddess of Pain

by Katie May

  “Please,” I beg as he continues to knead my tits between his strong, sure hands.

  With a grunt, he lines the head of his cock up with my entrance, sliding it back and forth so it’s coated in my juices. Knowing he’s not one to tease me, I wait until he slides himself inch by inch into my tight pussy until he’s fully inside of me. Fuck, he’s big. So fucking big.

  He allows me to adjust to his size before he begins to move. His cock slowly and languidly thrusts in and out of me. The tattoos on his upper chest ripple, and I can’t stop myself from lowering my lips and tracing the design with my tongue.

  He moves in and out of me, his dark eyes glazed with pleasure and love, while his lips explore my face and his hands pluck at my nipples.

  When it becomes too much for both of us, he grabs my ass and lifts me into the air. I immediately wrap my legs around his waist as he picks up his pace, grunting erratically. His balls slap against my ass, the only other sound besides our heavy breathing. This new angle allows his cock to press against my bundle of nerves, and I throw my head back, screaming praises into the universe.

  “Fuck, yes! Yes! Yes!”

  His fingers find my clit, plucking as skillfully as a trained guitarist, as I tumble apart in his arms. We both ascend into heaven at the same time, his roar shaking the very foundations of the apartment. My own cry fills the air as I succumb to pleasure, tumbling down a very steep cliffside.

  He remains inside of me for a long, tender moment after we come down from our collective high, using one hand to keep me up while the other brushes at my wet hair.

  “Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers.

  “Never,” I agree immediately, rocking my hips.

  And then we start again.

  CHAPTER 25

  When I wake up the next morning, my body deliciously sore and my limbs liquid, I know something’s wrong. It’s that innate feeling you get when you feel someone’s eyes on you in a crowd. A stain on your skin that you can’t scrub away, no matter how hard you try.

  I bolt upright in bed, heart pounding a wild rhythm, and turn towards where Helio slept the night before. Panic bombards me when I see his section of the bed empty, the blankets cold.

  “Helio? Sin?” I twist, turning in the direction where my other lover climbed in earlier, when Helio and I had been in an intense love-making session. He hadn’t joined in; instead, my crazy lover merely propped his head up on his hand as he watched us, stroking his cock in slow, sure strokes.

  My panic amplifies with the realization that he, too, is gone.

  The air mattresses that surround my bed—none of the guys wanted to be far away from me after the shitstorm of last night—are bereft as well, and a pain percolates in my stomach, churning like molten lava.

  Throwing the covers off, I slide my silk robe on and patter on silent feet into the hall.

  Every light is on, and I can’t stop the full-body shivers that rake across my body. Goosebumps skitter down my arms as I wrap them around my midsection, attempting to hold myself together.

  Did Rebecca do something when I was asleep?

  “Dessy? Avery? Tate?” Each step forward feels as if I’m walking to the execution block. In the distance, I can see the glinting blade of the guillotine just waiting to drop. Fear creeps into my veins at the thought that something has happened to my men. Something horrible. Why else would they not respond?

  Trepidation prickles the back of my neck as I continue walking agonizing step after agonizing step. My bare feet on the bamboo floorboards sound like gunfire.

  And then, I see them.

  My legs almost go out from underneath me as panic closes my airways. I can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even scream as pain races up my throat. Before I can stop myself, I collapse onto my knees, a sob wrenching its way past my lips.

  “No!” I scream as the tears run faster and faster down my cheeks, burning me. Branding me. “No! No! No!”

  Five familiar dead bodies litter the living room floor, their glazed eyes staring vacantly into space. Dried blood surrounds the bullet hole between each of their eyebrows.

  Helio.

  Desmond.

  Avery.

  Sin.

  Tate.

  All dead.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  I scream out in utter anguish as the final pieces of my soul crumble into dust. It would’ve been less painful for someone to reach into my chest, wrench out my heart, and smash it in their fist. Anything besides this.

  Anything.

  “No!” I can feel my power raging in my stomach where it always resides. But instead of calm, smooth waters, it’s steadily growing into a tsunami. A hurricane. A fierce storm capable of destroying entire cities and killing thousands. There’s no escape from the rage exploding out of me.

  The entire world will pay the price of their death in blood.

  I’M PANTING when I jerk upright in bed, heart beating a million miles a minute. Panic pulses through me as I stare around the room, tears pricking my eyes.

  Helio grumbles in his sleep, attempting to reach for me again and pull me against his bare chest. Sin is still crashed on the opposite side of me, his knees pulled up to just under his chin as he sleeps. He looks like a fucking angel, all delicate features and gorgeous blond hair that belie the wicked, dangerous man just underneath.

  At the foot of my bed, Avery is sprawled out on his own mattress, chest rising and falling steadily as a light snort permeates the air. On the air mattress beside him rests Desmond, his blankets bunched around his feet as he tosses and turns.

  “…give him…my money, you filthy…jackass,” he murmurs, before rolling onto his side and abruptly descending into slumber yet again.

  And finally, Tate. He rests in between my bed and my dresser on the second air mattress. Even in sleep, he exudes a haughty and arrogant demeanor. His features don’t soften like the others do. Instead, his mouth is pressed into a grim line as wrinkles mar the skin around both of his eyes and the edges of his lips. He sleeps on his back with his hands clasped primly on his stomach.

  My heartbeat steadily slows to a semi-normal rhythm with the reassurance that all of my men are here. That they’re safe. That they’re with me.

  Because if I ever lost them?

  I shudder at the mere prospect. It would be worse than losing a limb; that, you can live without. But I can’t live without my men. It’s inconceivable that the universe would ever expect me to.

  Was that…a vision of the future? Of what is to come?

  Don’t be ridiculous, Emily. It was just a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare.

  I count backwards from ten in my head as I attempt to get myself under control. Ever since I learned the truth about who and what I am, I’ve been plagued with the knowledge that…we’re mortal now. At least, sort of mortal. We can die much more easily here than we ever could in the Realm of the Gods.

  Tate’s a cop, for fuck’s sake! What happens if he gets shot on one of his cases?

  I can’t lose him. I can’t lose any of them.

  I would sooner destroy this world and all of the humans in it than ever lose even one of my men.

  Being careful not to disturb a snoring Helio or a murmuring Sin, I crawl out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway. My eyes latch on where I’d seen my men only moments before in my nightmare.

  Tate’s face, normally creased in an irritated scowl, is smoothed over. His eyes are vacant as they stare up at the ceiling.

  The upper half of Helio’s body is on the couch, as if he attempted to get up when the shooter arrived. His black hair and beard are coated in sticky blood, so dark it almost appears maroon.

  Sin is naked, and he’s spread-eagled on the ornate rug my brothers got me when I first moved here. Blood smears the top of his chest with the beginnings of a word. I wonder if he was trying to write something before death eventually claimed him.

  Desmond is tilted on his side, but even so, I’m abl
e to see his wide, petrified eyes. I didn’t know it was possible for fear to emanate from his gaze even in death, but there’s no denying that’s the emotion glaring back at me.

  And Avery, my best friend in this realm, is lying beside him. One of his arms is draped haphazardly across his chest. His sleep shorts hang dangerously low on his waist, revealing a trail of golden hair tinged pink with blood. The wound on his head seems bigger than the others, almost as if the person shot him from only a few inches away.

  I shake my head forcefully to erase the pain these images evoke.

  They’re alive. They’re safe. They’re here.

  I repeat that in my head as I move expertly around the still dark kitchen, plugging in the Keurig machine and grabbing a mug from the cupboard. It’s only—I glance at the hanging clock—four in the morning, but I know I’m not going back to sleep. How can I when nightmares like that feast on my insides?

  My phone buzzing nearly has me jumping out of my skin. I curse, spinning towards where I left it on the counter the night before, and swipe it open.

  Unknown Number: Your house. Thirty minutes. Come alone.

  The text is accompanied by a picture of my brothers. All three of them are standing in the kitchen, oblivious to the person taking the photo. Or, if they’re not oblivious, then unaware that she’s a conniving, evil, bitchy cunt.

  Terror thrums through me, as potent as a sickly poison, with the realization that Rebecca has finally escalated. She threw down the rulebook to a game I haven’t even known we were playing. The message in the text is clear—come, or I’ll kill them.

  I have no fucking choice. I can’t lose my brothers any more than I can lose my men. If the price for their survival is me…

  I take a deep, fortifying breath before heading into Avery’s room and dressing in a pair of his smallest shorts and one of his ratty rock star t-shirts.

  …so be it.

  CHAPTER 26

  I park the car on the side of the road, opposite my house. Through the dense shrubbery and twining tree branches lining the perimeter of the yard, I can see that every light in the house is off.

  Unease skitters down my spine, and my stomach tightens like a nest of rats have taken up residence. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I stare at the unassuming farmhouse with narrowed eyes.

  Somewhere inside, Rebecca is doing…God knows what to my brothers. My fear continues to grow and grow until it replaces the blood in my veins. I’m practically choking on it.

  Shutting down the car, I slide out and very gently close the driver’s side door. Somewhere in the distance, a dog begins to bark, his tinny voice sounding ominously loud in the eerie silence that has descended. It’s almost as if the world is holding its breath, waiting. The prickles racing up and down my skin intensify as I run across the street and duck behind an overgrown bush.

  In the movies, you would see a curtain twitching or a shadowy silhouette gliding in front of a window. Instead, I see nothing. Absolutely nothing. My fear ratchets tenfold as I reach for the knife in my pocket. The weight is comforting, if I’m being completely honest, though I would’ve preferred my trusty bat. However, I know that Rebecca won’t hesitate to hurt my brothers if she sees me strolling inside with a weapon.

  Fuck, how could she do this?

  She was my best friend for centuries, through the good and the bad. Could this entire mess really be because of Desmond?

  And…come to think of it…why hadn’t she used his memory loss to make a move on him? Unless she tried and he rejected her, which only escalated her rage to murderous proportions.

  Question after question barrage me from all directions, but I shove them away to dissect at a later time.

  Now, I need to save my brothers.

  I’m praying that my mates will still be asleep. And if they wake up, they’ll assume I’ve gone on my morning run.

  But if I’m not back in a few hours…

  Like before, I snap the lid on those thoughts. There is no alternative. I will get out of here in one piece, my brothers in tow and Rebecca six feet under.

  And then what?

  Do I head home? Go to the Realm of the Gods and reclaim my kingdom?

  The latter prospect fills me with unease. Is it selfish that I don’t want to go back to a place that’s laden with responsibility and pain?

  The kingdoms in the Realm of the Gods aren’t like the kingdoms on Earth. I rule only a small handful of lesser gods and goddesses, and by rule, I mean I live in the tallest and grandest building. For the most part, every deity is self-governed. However, there are a select few—including the old me—who will never be satisfied with the power bestowed upon them. They demand more and more, until empires and armies are created.

  So no, I don’t think anyone will miss me if I don’t return.

  If I’m being completely honest with myself, I think the people will rejoice if they’re able to go back to the way things were before I became power-hungry.

  I know I’m just making excuses. The truth is, I don’t want to return. At all. I don’t want to leave my family behind and the life I built here.

  But I can’t focus on the future before I annihilate the present. The Grim Reaper will be making an appearance tonight, and I’ll be damned if it’s me he’s visiting.

  Casting a glance in both directions and ensuring the street is empty, I find a section of the fence that has eroded away with time. I remember vividly crawling through the hole when I was in high school, barely big enough to fit my small body. Two years later, it’s still a tight squeeze, but it’s manageable. Loose wire claws at my hair, but I wipe it aside with a disgruntled, barely audible screech.

  I move nimbly to my feet before darting towards the side of the house, hoping the shadows obscure me well enough that anyone inside wouldn’t be able to see me.

  I don’t dare use the front door, and despite knowing the code to enter through the garage, I know that will make too much noise.

  Instead, I tiptoe stealthily around the house towards the second-story window. It leads into my old bedroom, still decorated exactly as it was when I was a child. The garbage can is directly underneath, and I know from experience that I can pull myself up if I balance myself on top of the metal can.

  It’s surprisingly easy to push open the window and pull myself through. My body rolls when it reaches the ground before I gracefully stand on the balls of my feet, still crouched.

  My eyes pore over the room that was once intimately familiar to me. Where my bed held over a dozen different pillows, all various sizes and colors. Where my dresser had a crack in the corner from the one time I came home drunk and stumbled into it. Where there was a painting on the wall of a gorgeous, tranquil lake with a purple-flecked moon above. I made it when I was sixteen at one of those recreational art classes they always offer.

  But I don’t see any of that.

  Instead, the room is bereft of anything that was once mine. The bedspread is a monotone gray with two white, fluffy pillows. The dresser is a dull amber wood instead of the mahogany I’m familiar with. There are no paintings on the walls. It’s as if…

  As if I’ve never lived here at all.

  Panic unfurls in my gut at the implications of such a thing.

  What if those memories have been nothing but a lie? What if I never really stayed in this bedroom with the purple walls and the contrasting black carpeting?

  That panic is replaced by a harrowing pain at the realization that I moved out of this house after my dad died. If this house holds no memories of me…

  Then my dad had no memories of me either. He died not knowing that I existed, not knowing that the memories in my head are as real as anything else in my life.

  He died not knowing he had a daughter who loves him fiercely.

  And I know that I shouldn’t mourn something that has never been real—after all, the ‘memories’ of my childhood are nothing but an illusion Rebecca somehow found a way to create—but it still spears me with its int
ensity.

  A pulsing pain throbs in my skull, and my heart aches as if someone is squeezing the life from it in their fist. Tears spill out of my eyes and down my cheeks before I can stop them. I try to cry silently, but a gasp slips out unbidden. An intense, agonizing pain whips through me. It sucks the air straight from my lungs and makes breathing virtually impossible. I want nothing more than to curl into a ball and have my men comfort me, but I know I can’t.

  Biological brothers or not, Colton, Henry, and Ray need me.

  Getting a handle on my turbulent emotions, I once more trace my fingers over the edge of the blade in my pocket. Each press of the metal against my overheated skin serves to calm me down a fraction until I feel relatively normal.

  Maybe normal isn’t the correct term. I’ll never be normal again after this. But for now, I’m numb, and that’s the best any of us can hope for.

  I slip out of the room, listening intently for any wayward noise. It doesn’t sound as if anyone is even breathing, but I refuse to succumb to the panic brewing inside of me, threatening to escape.

  Methodically, I check each bedroom, ensuring that they’re empty. My brothers and Rebecca are nowhere to be found.

  When I reach the stairs, my footsteps are quieter, gliding across the wood without so much as a peep.

  My heart races, each consecutive thump threatening to be my last, but I work to control my breathing.

  Count backwards from ten. Ten. Nine. Eight.

  I reach the landing and throw my body flush against one of the two pillars present there.

  Seven. Six. Five.

  Crashing to my left, in the kitchen, captures my attention, and it’s there I go, holding the knife at the ready.

  Four. Three. Two. One.

  I jump around the corner and slam the tip of my blade into Rebecca’s pasty neck. She freezes, eyes widening in alarm, as I glare at her with all the hatred and betrayal I can muster.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I hiss, baring my teeth at her. The shock splayed across her face turns into surprise and then into excitement. The cocktail of emotions both confuse and terrify me.