by G. Bailey
Either way, I resolved to help find Ruby, and I intend to. It goes beyond just familial obligation at this point: Neritous has left so much grief in his wake, it’s time for us to pick up the pieces and see that justice is done, no matter what. I know all too well what it’s like to have loved ones snatched away by his malevolence; I’m not going to let Ruby’s be just another body on the pile.
“I’m sorry,” Storm says, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows, “I didn’t realise you could make portals. It’s my way for now, unless you have a better way of jumping us halfway across the planet.” There’s a smugness about the way he says it, along with a hint of pride, and I have no doubt he actually likes travelling that way - no matter how insane it is. Then again, if I had been stuck in a prison for four hundred years, I would probably feel like flying, too.
“For all you know, maybe I can make portals,” I fire back teasingly.
A thoughtful look crosses Storm’s face. “Now that you mention it…”
My eyes go wide. “You think I could make portals?” I ask wonderingly. It would be so cool if I could. The first thing I would do is portal over to New York to get some pizza with peanut butter on it. Seriously. I’ve heard they sell it there, and I want in.
Storm’s brow furrows, and he shrugs his broad shoulders. “I don’t see why not,” he says. “If I remember right, Neritous used to call lightning into an X shape whenever he wanted to travel. A portal would burn in the middle of it and take him wherever he wanted to go,” he explains to me. “They say teleportation magic runs in families - like the justice gods, for example.” His expression goes stony at the mention of the twins, but he does a good job of hiding it, continuing, “Considering he was your father, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could do it, too… although that’s a discussion for a later date, I think.”
“You’re probably-” I begin, but I’m cut off by a sharp pain in my ankle, letting out a screech at the feeling of teeth digging into my skin. I shake my leg frantically as I stoop down and pick up the snappy little shite called Kit. He’s looking awfully pleased with himself, a defiant gleam in his eyes as he stares up at me. I swear, sometimes I think he just does it for the attention.
I glare down at the little goblin. “Just because I’m happy you helped Storm and the justice twins come to me doesn’t mean I agreed to be your feckin’ chew toy,” I snap at kit, picking him up by the torso and setting him down in the middle of my other hand. He doesn’t look one bit apologetic as he looks expectantly from me to Storm, patting his stomach. I roll my eyes. “A whole apartment full of food and you still need me to dig something up for you,” I mutter. “I’m starting to think you just like being difficult.” Kit doesn’t reply, meeting my eyes as if daring me to provoke him into biting again. I let out a long sigh, looking to Storm for backup.
The god looks amused as he watches the little goblin. “I have food at my apartment,” he says at last, offering me a hand to take. “Want to come back with me? Maybe something there will suit his fancy.” Kit vigorously nods at the prospect of more food, and I can’t help but feeling a bit curious, myself, too. I’ve never even seen Storm’s apartment since we arrived here - he’s always come to ours. He’s a private enough person that I haven’t felt right asking him, but if he’s offering…
“That sounds good to me,” I say, sliding my hand into Storm’s and placing Kit on my shoulder. He nestles in at the base of my neck, hiding behind my hair. I shoot the goblin a warning look. “Don’t you dare bit my hair,” I warn him, “or you will be hunting for food yourself, Kit. It’s the only thing I have left at this point, and I’m not in the market for a haircut right now.” Realising how ungrateful that must sound, I glance over at Storm. The comment hasn’t gone unnoticed, and I feel his grip tighten around my hand - although whether intentionally or not, I can’t say. “Almost the only thing I have left,” I amend softly, returning his squeeze, and his expression softens a little as he peers around me at the goblin.
“You know,” Storm says, “I’ve heard that biting is actually a sign of affection for goblins.”
“Oh, is it?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “How unfortunate.”
Storm laughs. “I’m serious. They say that it’s a way of marking you as their person. It’s a territorial thing,” he explains to me. “I would guess he expects you to say thank you for the honour.”
“Oh, please,” I retort. “He can shove that thank you up his arse, and he knows it. He’s just hangry.”
Storm frowns. “What is hangry?” he asks. I feel my heart melt a little at that; for all his centuries of power and wisdom, there’s a naivety about him as a result of his imprisonment that makes itself known in the oddest of ways. I have to remind himself that he isn’t well-versed in modern slang, and make a mental note to help him bring his cultural knowledge into the twenty-first century. We can start with vocab, and then move on to memes.
“‘Hangry’ is a dangerous mix of hungry and angry,” I explain to him as we start walking. “Possibly even more dangerous than just plain old angry. You never know when it might strike, if you’re not careful.”
“‘Hangry’,” Storm repeats thoughtfully, turning the word over in his mouth. A small smile emerges on his face, and he nods appreciatively. “I like that.”
“Good, because there’s plenty more where that came from,” I joke. “We’ll have you talking like a normal person before you know it.”
Storm laughs, and then goes quiet, taking a long, pensive breath. “It’s moments like these when I remember how much I’ve missed,” Storm says thoughtfully, before turning and letting his eyes settle on me. “But the wait was worth it, I think. For you.”
I feel a blush creep into my cheeks, my insides going mushy under his intense gaze. I haven’t forgotten what he said to me earlier, about his feelings for me. The fact that I’m going to be alone with him for the first time in his apartment isn’t lost on me, and there’s a stirring of butterflies in my stomach at the prospect. I’m not usually one to get all flustered around hot guys, but Storm is different. They all are.
We make our way into the main building, rounding a corner and turning down into the long corridor that branches off the main hallway. I can feel Storm wrap an arm around my waist, and I find myself leaning in to him as we navigate the palace. The pain in my side is all but gone at this point, but I’m not doing it for support, anymore - I’m just basking in the feeling of being near him.
It’s quiet in the castle - if dinner has already happened, then the higher gods must have made it a private affair; aside from a few passing guards, there’s not much activity. It’s as if everyone is waiting, holding our collective breath as we anticipate the next challenge.
Suddenly feeling like I need to say something - anything - to break the heavy silence, I turn to Storm and say, “Thank you for tracking Emerald down. For everything you did today.”
“You’re welcome,” Storm replies, his eyes still to the front.
“I’m serious,” I tell him as we continue to walk. “I think we did a good thing for her. I can’t imagine what she must have gone through.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” Storm warns me. “Her daughter is still missing.”
“I know,” I reply grimly. “My sister. And we’re going to help get her back.”
“Does it feel strange to you?” Storm asks, looking at me. “Finding out you have a sister, I mean.”
I think for a long moment before I respond. “A little,” I reply finally, “but no stranger than finding out the people who raised me weren’t my biological parents, I guess.”
He laughs at that. “That’s a fair point.”
“Still…” I shake my head solemnly. “The more we find out about the things Neritous has done, the more I’m glad I killed him.” I stop in my tracks suddenly, looking at Storm as a new fear rears its ugly head. “Is that wrong of me?” I ask him in a small voice that sounds so unlike my own. “To be happy that he’s dead, even though he’s…” I swa
llow hard. “Even though he’s my father?”
Storm doesn’t have to think long. “No,” he tells me without missing a beat. “In fact, in a sense, it fits that you were the one to kill him.”
“You think so?”
He nods sombrely. “I don’t think it was karma that you brought to him that day, little one. I think it was justice.”
Slowly, I nod, straightening up. “And I’m far from being done.”
Storm chuckles a little. “This is why I love you, Karma.”
I smile at him, comforted, and we resume our walk in silence. Eventually we arrive at the end of a hallway in the west wing of the palace, stopping at the end in front of a pair of white wooden doors. Storm lets me go so he can pull a key out of his pocket and unlock the door, stepping aside so I can enter his quarters.
I walk into his chambers, not really sure what I should be expecting, and I’m surprised to see that this is clearly one of the older suites in the castle. I shuffle forward slowly, my eyes wide as I admire the place: the walls are made of pale stone, not plaster, and sconces hold enchanted lights that bathe the room in a soft golden glow. In the middle of the room is an enormous bed fit for royalty, and it dawns on me that perhaps my family’s apartments were given modern furniture in order to make us more comfortable… or more amenable. I press my lips together in a thin line at the thought.
One of the walls dips into a little alcove, and in it is a tiny kitchen, similar to the one in our apartment. On the wall behind the bed, there are four big, paneled glass windows. They show stunning views over the beaches and forest in the distance - memories of Storm’s mother and the trees she planted on the island. There is a reading alcove in the far corner that doesn’t appear to have been used in some time, along with a bookshelf full of ancient tomes. I don’t see much in here that’s personal, and my heart breaks a little - Storm hasn’t been home in so long, he might as well have never existed here at all, as far as the higher gods are concerned. It’s like they deliberately purged all evidence of him from the place in the aftermath of his imprisonment, and he’s only now beginning to to get his life back.
I can’t help but stare as I make my way around the room, absently lifting Kit off my shoulder and placing him on the counter. The tiny goblin quickly runs and climbs up to the top of the fridge.
“I’m going to quickly make him something,” Storm says to me as he passes me, and I look up at him as I nod.
I can feel the tension characteristic of our relationship building up, crackling between us like electricity. We usually ignore it, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s there, burning and pressing me to go to him, touch him, comfort him.
I’m on the verge of reaching out when Kit starts banging the top of the fridge, breaking up the moment, and I breathe in deeply as Storm moves to rummage in the fridge. I look out the window for a moment at the view before moving towards the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress and picking up the only thing on the side table, a gold box. I open it up, seeing dozens of tiny black hairbands inside, alongside a silver comb.
“What’s this?” I ask, holding the box up.
Storm takes a moment to set some food on the counter for Kit, who immediately leaps down from the refrigerator and digs in, oblivious to anything going on around him. He then walks over and takes a seat next to me on the bed. “Braiding each other’s hair was a sign of affection back when I was young,” he replies. “I’ve never braided anyone’s hair since the higher gods were children - and my parents’, before they died.” There’s a moment of silence, and then he makes eye contact with me. “Can I braid your hair?” he asks suddenly.
I blink, surprised, and raise a self-conscious hand to my wild red locks. This clearly means a lot to him, and I’m honored that he would consider doing something that holds so much significance.
“I’d love that,” I say, smiling at him and raking my hands through the tangles. He takes the box from me as I turn around, kicking my shoes off and crossing my legs on the blue sheets.
I feel Storm gently run the comb through my hair, his movements gentle, practised, and precise. He’s patient as he works the knots out, not snagging or hurting me at all until my long red tresses are fall smoothly down my back. Putting the comb away, he gets to work braiding it with an expertise that can only come from years of practise. It’s so relaxing that I almost drift off to sleep until I feel him place his hands on my shoulders. I reach back, feeling the detailed braids all in my hair, the dozens of them he has done to link together. I look back at him, and lift my hand to his cheek.
“Thank you, Storm,” I softly say, and he kisses me instead of saying a word back. I fully turn around as he pulls me closer to him and lays me back on the bed as he deepens the kiss. I tug his shirt up, and he pulls it off before coming back to kiss me. My shirt is soon pulled off next, and then Storm is unclipping my bra as his lips devour my jaw and move down to my neck. I wriggle against his large knee between my legs as he gets my bra off, and I slide my arms out. Storm takes a second to look down at me, and I admire him right back. The way his muscular body is so toned, each ripple is defined all the way down the fine line of hair I can see going into his trousers.
“I can take them off, make this more even if you want?” Storm asks, though it’s his way of asking if I want this to go further. As I look into Storm’s eyes, I know there isn’t anything in this world I want more right now.
“I love you, Storm,” are the only words I can think to say. And it’s enough to make his eyes glow as he looks at me like I’m the most important person in the world. Storm tugs his trousers off, and I pull my own down to speed things up. I’m tired of waiting for what I want in my life. I want Storm because I love him more than I thought it was possible to love someone else. He covers my body with his own as he kisses me, and he feels perfect on top of me.
His lips move down my jaw to my chest, and he spends a few seconds teasing my hard nipples with his tongue before descending lower. Storm grabs my thighs with his hands, pushing them apart and diving between my legs like he has wanted to do this a million times. His tongue swirls around my clit as I slide my hands into his hair, moaning loudly from the intense pleasure. I crash into an orgasm quickly.
“Storm, I want you inside me, please. I need to feel you,” I moan as I come down from the wave, knowing exactly what I want. Storm climbs up my body, lining up at my entrance, and he leans down. He kisses me ever so softly, gently, and it means so much that he does.
“I love you, Karma. It’s forever for us,” he softly tells me seconds before he easily slides fully inside me. I gasp from the pleasure, from how feckin’ incredible he feels inside me.
“You’re so perfectly tight,” he groans as he pulls out and slowly slides back in. He does this several times as he devours my lips, his body rubbing against mine. Every thrust moves his body against my hard nipples, his cock perfectly stretching me as I moan. I never want this to stop. Storm rolls us over so I’m on top, and I roll my hips, feeling and loving how I can see every reaction.
“Don’t stop,” he commands me, and feckin’ hell, I couldn’t if I tried. I roll my hips faster, chasing an orgasm I can feel getting close. Storm moves his hands to my nipples, flicking them as I ride him, and it soon sends me crashing into my next orgasm. Storm roars as he thrusts a few more times, gripping my hips tightly as he comes hard and fast deep inside me. I collapse onto his chest, breathless but completely sated.
“You aren’t leaving his room for the rest of the night. I want to do that over and over again,” he says, somehow looking relaxed and excited at the same time.
“I don’t need convincing. I’m staying,” I reply, smiling down at him as he rolls us over and kisses me. Whatever happens, I know I have Storm and moments like this to remember. I have a man I love more than anything, and he loves me back.
That is worth fighting for.
16
I stand in the kitchen alcove of my family’s apartments, leaning against the wall
with my arms crossed over my chest and my hair falling down my back in a long curtain. I’m looking out the western window, facing the side of the palace that slopes down onto the rocky coast, the pebble beach, and then, farther out, the ocean in the distance. It seems to spread out into infinity like an endless blue blanket. The only thing that breaks up its sparkling sapphire surface is the rock formations that jut into the sky a ways off the coast, pointing up at the sun like grasping fingers. The lulling waves glide over the smooth stones, their rhythmic crashing not entirely muffled by the castle walls, sending sprays of seafoam out and over the shore. The skies are the bluest I think I’ve ever seen them, like the colour of a robin’s egg, complete with speckles of clouds in the distance. The sun is high in the sky, shining brightly and dazzling off the water in flecks of light so intense they’re almost blinding.
It’s a perfect day, and if I were anyone else in the world right now, my breath would be taken away by how spectacular the view from the castle is… but I can’t stop myself from thinking about a different, much more personal, kind of beauty. My mind is fixated on the night - one night, in particular, as a matter of fact.
It’s been two days since I slept over at Storm’s apartment, and it’s still hard not to think of that night over and over again. The feeling of his lips on mine, of his hands on my body, the feeling of him inside me, as close to me as he could ever get… It sends a shiver up my spine just thinking about it, and I let my eyes drift closed as I let the memory overtake me once again. That night was more perfect than today - or just about any day - could ever be. In fact, the only night that even holds a candle to the one I shared with Storm is, incidentally… the one I shared with Killian. The confusing nature of my situation isn’t lost on me, and any time I think too hard about the logistics - specifically, the possibility of negotiating a relationship with all three of the men in my life - it’s nearly enough to make my head spin. Theory and practise are two different things, and each of these guys has his own demons… and his own ego. But none of that changes the beauty of the night Storm and I shared, and I let a smile creep onto my face as I remember the highlights now.
