“Your wife put her hands on me. She cut up my face, growling and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog," she said, and his smile faltered, but only for a second. Even with her he was the perfect spokesman. His smile never wavered as he looked at her, his eyes twinkling brightly. That was why the women in the neighborhood found excuses to come over with casseroles and baked goods. They wanted to get a look at the handsome and seemingly single Senator Prince.
“I told you going into this scheme of hers was not a good idea. You can’t trust her, Lil. She will tell you only part of the story, make you do all of the hard work, then step over you to grab the glory.” She stood, her head only coming to the center of his chest and she had to look up to stare into his eyes.
“Why is she so dead set on finding this mark on the Caelestis? What does it mean?”
“It means that she could be the key to ultimate power. If she bears the mark. You won’t get close enough to her to find it. She's protected and she‘s dangerous, volatile - she could kill you without breaking a sweat.” Alexander stared at Lilith as she fussed with her clothing. She looked pretty, even with her bright red hair and pale skin. His smile faded and the intensity of his glare made her uncomfortable, like he was looking through her. She ignored his glare while smearing lip gloss onto her pale pink lips.
“I’ve seen her in action and I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, the queen isn’t the only one with plans, father.” She reached for her purse, a wicked smile teasing the corners of her mouth as she left the room. “Oh the plans I have,” she chirped happily.
***
He'd woken to find the tent empty, Calie nowhere to be found. He'd wiped the sand from his body before dressing in dark trousers and going in search of the wayward goddess. They were still a few days outside of Pelusium, but they had managed to stop in several small cities on their way for supplies, sleeping at inns that made it easy for him to keep his distance from her. On this particular night, they were camped at an oasis in the center of miles of scorching desert.
He moved through the lush greenery, the sound of gentle splashing drawing him closer to the heated lagoon beneath shady palms. He saw her clothing first; the pale white of her new tunic and trousers against deep green grass caught his attention. The smell of water and sand and the unmistakably scent of Calie wafted on the night breeze. He saw her then, her dark hair wet and cascading down her bare back, her caramel shoulders glowing in the moonlight. She kept her back to him, treading water and staring into the starry indigo sky.
"You found me," she said, slowly turn face him, "it is beautiful out here, Karim. Even in this entire nothing, there is such beauty. Join me. The water is still heated from the sun. You can wash all of the sand from your naughty bits. I got some sapoúni from the last village, it will take the stink off of you,” she teased.
"I do not stink."
She lifted a brow and swam around the pool of shimmering water, giving him hints of naked flesh beneath the surface.
He watched her for a moment, his brows raised, then agreed, a bath would be refreshing and was probably sorely needed at this point. "Turn around, dooset. Don't want you ogling my bits," he said with a grin. She tilted her head at the endearment and he realized he’d called her ‘love’. It had been natural and easy, and he wondered when he’d started to do that.
"I've seen your bits every night since I met you. Don't get shy on me now, Karim."
"Can I have even the illusion of modesty?" he asked and she rolled her eyes before turning her back. He stripped his clothes off and eased into the delicious warmth of the fragrant water. She was right, the water felt wonderful on his sand blasted skin. After spending the day baking underground, the warmed water felt refreshing and cleansing. Sand was being washed away from places he could never quite reach and it felt amazing.
“What is that smell?" he asked after dipping his head into the water to rinse the sand from his hair and face. It was wonderful, like flowers and honey but sweeter. He inhaled deeply as she drifted closer and realized, it was her. It was the sweet scent of her arousal and he knew immediately that he was in deep, deep trouble.
"What smell?" she asked, moving much too close. The smell was stronger now and she looked so delectable. Her skin was like liquid gold, her hair brushed away from a face that was both angelic and devilish. Full berry-colored lips shimmered and she was so achingly naked just inches away from him. He was hard and hurting within seconds of her moving towards him with something in her hands.
"Come here," she said, "turn around,"
He turned instinctively and she began to gently message the sweet smelling soap into his thick hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, her fingers, gentle and firm, felt wonderful. She came closer, her bare breasts brushing his back. Her hands moved down his neck to his shoulders, lathering his skin with the rich scents of irises and almonds; combined with her natural scent it relaxed him. Her hands moved down his back beneath the surface pausing just above the curve of his spine, gently massaging his sore muscles.
"Turn," she said and he did so without qualms, facing her. She reached for a small clay jar and scooped more of the smooth clay-like soap into her palms until it lathered and began at his throat. Her hands, soft and soapy, moved over his collarbones and down his arms. He stared at her while her hands worked over his chest and the tattoo on his neck and shoulder, then slowly down his sides, pausing at his hips.
He held his breath, waiting for her to do something, the thick fragrant soap on her hands making them slick and warm against his heated skin. She looked into his eyes, her hands circling his waist before coming back to run along his lower abdomen. Karim sucked in air, his heart racing and his body tense. He wanted her to touch him, to stroke him with those delicate soapy hands. He was hard and achy, his body primed to explode, if she would only touch him.
Then she did, her hand slick and smooth, moved over him and he groaned, his eyes drifting closed. She moved her hand slowly, up and down, from the base to the tip in sweeping strokes that had him weak and shivering.
"Should I stop?" she asked, her own voice tight.
He opened his eyes and looked at her; her face was soft, her lips parted and yet she continued her wonderful torture.
"No, please don't," he whispered, his mouth coming down on hers. Her hand tightened on him and he bucked forward, his arms tightening around her, wanting to feel her closer. He trailed kisses across smooth bare shoulders, his hands moving down to cup her firm rounded bottom then to the mound of wet, silken curls. He stroked her with warm fingers, slowly slipping one into the tight heat at her core and she swayed against him, her lips touching the top of his tattoo.
He licked the throbbing pulse point on her throat, aching to sink his teeth into her as his body begged to slip into the sweetness at her center. He nipped her with his teeth, not breaking the skin, he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he wouldn't burden her with his mark. Instead he lowered his mouth to the gentle swell of her breasts brushing his lips across her skin. He continued to move his body, pushing against her, imagining himself inside of her. His fingers moved into the soft, tight sweetness of her, his body pumping against her hand and everything in him sang.
***
She'd gasped in shock when he touched her, and clutched his shoulder when he moved deeper, her body sliding against him. She met his stroke as he met hers, their bodies creating wakes and waves in the small lagoon. This was not what she had expected, this was much better than she had been told. She gasped as a new wave of something unfamiliar rolled through her, a slow burn that started at her core and moved outward in wave upon delicious wave of pleasure. He held her until the soft tremors roiling through her ceased. She'd continued her fervent fondling of him until she felt his release warm on her hand and stomach. He made a noise that was something like a deep growl and she continued her delicious torture, even though he'd stopped his wondrous exploration of her body. His body was still, every muscle standing out in stark relief; he was beautiful i
n his release, she thought.
When he was able to, when his breathing had returned to normal, he looked at her. He stared at her, those eyes like sapphires in the moonlight. She looked so sweet and innocent, beautiful and so very, very dangerous. She stared at him with a devilish spark in vibrant blue eyes, her lips curving into a cunning and knowing smile and he knew, he'd been ambushed. She had seduced him, the cheeky little minx; she had set the scene and proven that he wanted her. Of course he did, he was in love with her.
The realization hit him like a stone wall and he pulled away, unable to breathe anymore.
"We can never do that again,” he whispered, backing away. "You should not have done that."
"But you enjoyed it. I know you did," she said, and he watched as confusion and pain danced across her face. "You liked it, you know you did. You wanted it and you want me as much as I want you."
"It was wrong," he bit, and she started from the sharpness of his tone. "It was wrong and it will never happen again. Never."
She stared at him in disbelief as he hurriedly climbed from the water and covered himself.
"Clean yourself and get dressed. We leave within the hour. The sooner I get you to Pelusium the better. I need to rid myself of you as soon as possible," he barked, and stormed away leaving her stunned and angry.
He decided then that he could not complete this journey without more happening. He could not risk giving in again. He was too weak when it came to her, too weak and too much in love with her to continue to fight temptation. Especially when she was as determined to bed him as he was not to allow it.
"Damn you, Nyx," he’d muttered as he'd marched back to the tent. Why had he made such an impossible promise? Because, he told himself, he hadn't expected to fall so deeply so quickly.
***
Someone was in his bedroom. He could feel them when they entered the bedroom, but he waited, not sure of what to do. Karim could feel the eyes on him as he slept, his body tensing in preparation for battle. He was thinking as they moved around him, females. He could smell them, three distinct scents that were very feminine and somewhat familiar. Then he heard the whispered voices arguing above him, speaking to each other with a bizarre cadence that could only mean one thing.
The Moirai had stopped by for a visit.
He rolled onto his back and slowly opened his eyes to stare at the three sisters. Eons old, they still looked like dewy twenty somethings, with their large creepy eyes on him. Soft, pale Clotho, vibrant Lachesis and dark Atropos all stared at him expectantly. They were kneeling on the edge of the bed, a trio of very distinct and very pretty women. He'd seen pornos that started like this, he thought. He'd also seen horror movies that ended like this. With this group it could go either way.
"Afternoon ladies," he yawned, stretching his sex-exhausted body and they smiled at him. Even with the three in his room and the devastating end to what had been a magnificent night, he could still smell Celeste on his skin. She was on his sheets, his pillows and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Now his day had taken a turn to the bizarre.
"How did you get in here?"
"Your little charms are cute, but the magic here doesn't effect primordials," Lachesis said. He sighed and wondered how Celeste had been unable to phase herself out of his apartment. His heart jumped a little as it struck him that as much as she protested and assured him of her complete disdain for him, she hadn't wanted to leave. She wanted to stay and she would have felt the magic when she crossed the threshold. She had stayed because, she'd wanted to, she'd wanted him.
"To what do I owe this pleasure? Let me guess, big mama Nyx sent you." He sat up, the covers pooling around his hips. They stared, eyes alert, watching him carefully. He didn’t know why he bothered asking, he already knew that would be an exercise in futility. Getting a straight answer from the Fates was just something that was never done, especially when they were together. And they were always, always together.
"She is in danger now. You know she is," Lachesis said.
"You've seen with your own eyes and you know that trouble will come," Clotho sighed.
"It is only the beginning," Lachesis chimed in.
"It will become much worse," Atropos said.
He was trying his best to follow their speech pattern, gleaning what he could from their cryptic message. There was always a pattern to them, but if you lost the thread it was lost on you. He knew that the she was Celeste, and the trouble he knew had to be Lilith. He nodded and thought perhaps they could help him.
"The wheels are already in motion. But you must act quickly," Lachesis said.
"Before what happened in the past takes hold again, before the anger consumes and changes her forever."
"Can you tell me what happened to her?" he asked.
They looked at each other, then back at him. Lachesis opened her mouth then snapped it closed. She and Atropos turned to Clotho who stared at her hands as she debated with herself.
"Please." He could hear the pleading in his own voice and rubbed his eyes. "I just need to know."
The three women held onto each other, rocking gently as Clotho stared at him. They reached for him, taking his hands and sending a current of electricity through him. Clotho's pale blue eyes became beacons of bright light, her voice a hollow ethereal monotone as the sisters began to speak as one and he was privy to their memories as if watching a movie in his mind. He watched as their lips moved in unison in some strange ventriloquist's act with the three speaking with one voice and became hypnotized at the visions they provided of what once was.
***
"Her curse of lust has followed her, her entire life. That is why she was entrusted to the Amazons and then to you. You, Prince Karim of House Tyre, noble and steadfast, Nyx entrusted you to retrieve her progeny. You, Karim, untouched by magic were the perfect choice…until your heart and your body betrayed your word. You were forced to choose. You chose poorly and once the covenant was broken, once she was left with the merchant on the outskirts of Pelusium, her fate was set. And so was yours.
The merchant's wife, watching her husband lust for the girl, rid herself of such a rival. The slaver took her and two others to the palace at Persepolis and she took top price. King Xerxes became immediately enamored with the feisty slave girl. She was not made to live in the harem, she was given her own suite and treated as the king's consort. She fought him, but the punishments were so brutal that she found it easier to bear the humiliation over the constant pain. As she was hidden, still affected by the poison that had doomed her, she had no help, no hope of rescue, so this became her life. She had not returned to her protector and she had not regained her divine gifts; she was unable to defend herself from the horrors at the hands of one who yearned to possess her heart as well as her body. Her visits with the king became nightly as his infatuation grew. He loved her, obsessed over her to the point of neglecting his kingdom. The queen became jealous and tried to have her executed, but her attempts failed as the slave girl was guarded nonstop. Instead the queen herself was punished for such treachery.
He showered her with gifts and love while keeping her locked away from prying eyes. She was his prized possession and he watched her, stalked her, and loved her above everything else in his world. As his obsession deepened, he became angered because she did not return his ardor. To punish her for not returning his love, he became depraved in his treatment, he tortured her and degraded her, making her do the most horrific things for his pleasure. No longer satisfied with making her his personal sexual slave, he began to let others use her as they pleased to punish her for not returning his love.
In the palace she was shunned and looked upon as lower than trash, an outcast locked in a room for twenty-three hours of the day. Her only friend was the soldier who guarded her door, who made sure she was fed and clothed. The soldier became her confidant and like all mortal men, fell in love with her. He watched over her and protected her the best he could, but when the whippings and rapes began, he
could no longer stand it. He, with the help of an accomplice, assassinated the king as he lay with her. The kingdom was in turmoil as the king's son took reign, yet she remained locked in that place, the new plaything for the soldier who felt that he owned her.
When she would not come to his bed, when she was too beaten and broken down to want another to touch her, he prayed for release from his obsession. That was when the woman appeared the woman with the eyes of a cat, and the skin as deep brown as coffee found him while he was deep in drink. She, the wife of the father, had been sent by her own conspirator, the one who birthed the living reminder of her husband’s lost love. She wanted to remove any memory of the love that came before her and eagerly accepted the task. She gave him an elixir to weaken Celeste's resolve and so would be his. He believed the woman and poured this new elixir into the girl’s drink, but it did not work. It only made her weak and sick. He was frustrated and angered by the lie he had been told and he was determined to have her. When he forced himself on her, she could not fight, only lay and cry as he used her body over and over, leaving her shattered. He bound her ankles and wrists and used her in the most brutal way, overcome by his own fervent need. The torture lasted for days, days of being tied down and abused with no savior in sight.
Then when he saw what he had done, saw that now she would never love him, that he had succumbed to his lust like the others, he slit her throat and slashed her delicate and tempting flesh, until she lay dead. Then he took what he had longed for… he took her heart. The elixir had not only weakened her, it made her mortal. Her body was cast into a pit where those that wished her dead and celebrated her death, found her and desecrated her body so that her soul would be forever cast into hell. She was cast as the villain in the downfall of a once great and powerful kingdom.
She spent many years in hell, so many years trapped and chained in a cell, living her nightmare over and over. She was still lost to those who would protect her, lost in death, in the deepest part of Tartarus for so long that she was all but forgotten. Only one continued the desperate search for her, only one knew that she was somewhere and would not relent in her pursuit. That was when the deal was made with the Fallen One. The destroyer of gods found her, and leading the way, he cleared a path for the family that would be her world. When he saw the broken girl, he was taken by her beauty and the strength of her spirit. A new deal was struck and he marked her for her protection, marked her so that she could be found when the time came. She bears the mark now, and she bears the scars of all that was done to her."
Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel Page 12
