Finara’s fiery gaze slowly raked over Grace’s form. ‘Sure, if you don’t mind doing it front of my mediaist here. This is Grace Pendergast and I’ll be signing an exclusive with her.’
It took the Chipper barely half a second to respond.
‘We agree to your terms,’ he said.
Grace glanced away, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She threw a towel over her legs, concealing the prosthesis. She wanted to ignore all of these uninvited guests or, better yet, demand that they leave her alone. But another part of her was desperate to see if she could prove that she was as good as, if not better than, Ton Tinel. This was the kind of exclusive he’d kill for.
Six days, she thought.
The story of a lifetime.
A goddess has offered to have sex with me.
‘It seems I have an exclusive,’ Grace finally said.
A grin exploded over Finara’s face. ‘Excellent. We’ll begin right now.’ She fluttered a dismissive hand at the Chippers. ‘Come back tomorrow.’
Ribbons of fire swept up from the ground and swirled around both Grace and Finara, encasing them. Grace held her breath, sealed her eyes shut and then laughed hysterically when she found herself still sitting in the deckchair — except she was now high above the hotel, near the lip of one of the nearby volcanoes.
Finara glanced over, a hint of hazel appearing in her eyes for the briefest of moments. ‘Are you okay?’
Grace didn’t know how to put it into words. She’d been afraid of the flames, afraid they’d heralded her premature death, afraid that she wouldn’t get to finish this task before her six days were up. Unable to reply, she instead chose to demand a vidcam which appeared in a similar vortex.
Once she got over her astonishment that the device wasn’t burnt to a crisp, Grace got to work.
CHAPTER THREE
When evening fell on the western hemisphere of Arksaw, Finara took Grace to dinner. The other patrons in the hotel’s restaurant gave them a wide berth; Grace amused herself by wondering if they did this because Finara was a goddess and they wished to show their respect, or because they were worried Finara would suddenly incinerate the closest patrons.
Mediaists had been banned from the restaurant and diners were being searched upon entry for vidcams to ensure they did not record any unauthorised footage. Grace had even heard a rumour that Ton Tinel himself had attempted to bribe his way in, but with no success.
‘So the superstition that suicide angers the Creator God and causes him to refuse us entry into the afterlife…?’ Grace prompted.
‘Completely false,’ Finara replied. ‘Dead’s dead, no matter which way you do it. The Ine — uh, the Creator God treats all of his mortal children equally.’
‘And you can’t die, correct?’
Finara frowned for a moment. ‘Well, not of old age. Us gods could kill each other if we were in the mood, but so far it hasn’t happened.’
‘What about sex?’
‘What about it?’ Finara mocked, grinning right at Grace’s vidcam, which was hovering beside the table. ‘Yeah, we do it. The lucky mortals don’t even know what they’ve had.’
Grace swallowed. ‘You’ve done it a lot?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. Or rough, if you prefer…’
‘Can you procreate?’ Grace interrupted. Finara’s voice was low whenever she spoke of sex and it always caused something to vibrate deep inside Grace. This wasn’t an unwelcome sensation, but it was distracting.
Finara paused, then performed an elaborate shrug. ‘I don’t know. Not sure. I guess we could always try merging DNA at one of those clinics. You know, like any normal couple does when they can’t reproduce on their own.’
Grace turned off her vidcam and caught it before it hit the floor. She set the device down on the table but had to quickly move it when a team of waiters brought out some sort of sea creature. Finara retched quietly but made no other comment, so the waiters scurried off once the platter was delivered, apparently not noticing the goddess’ displeasure.
‘You are sure and you do know,’ Grace said firmly. She was only guessing, but she had a feeling she was right. ‘I’m not recording at the moment, so you can tell me what you won’t say to the vidcam.’
‘I don’t want to mess things up for my nephews,’ Finara said as she poked the engorged fish on the platter with her fork. ‘I don’t think the galaxy’s supposed to know about them, especially the one who’s — no.’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t throw those kids into the path of some galactic shitstorm. They don’t deserve that.’
‘Do you want your own child one day?’ Grace asked.
‘Stark yes. I didn’t always want kids, but when my brother…’ Finara trailed off. ‘Nope, never going to happen. No one’s keen on the whole eternity thing.’
Grace arranged her cutlery neatly on the table. ‘But you don’t need a permanent partner. You could fall pregnant and not tell the father.’
‘That’s a shitty thing to do,’ Finara snapped. When multiple pairs of eyes flicked towards her in alarm, she twisted her lips into a smile. ‘I practice safe sex. Forgetting to use caution is what got not one, but two of my brothers into trouble.’
‘At least we won’t need to worry about that tonight,’ Grace murmured.
Finara’s hands found Grace’s on the table. The goddess’ touch verged on being too warm, but it was also oddly tender. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Alright,’ Grace replied, unable to think of any reason to pull away from her.
‘So I don’t get it,’ Finara said. ‘How can getting a bunch of people killed and losing your leg make you want to die?’
‘How can you call yourself a god when you’d rather dance at a resort than look after your domain?’ Grace retorted, deflecting her. This time she did manage to yank her hands back to her side of the table. ‘Your powers don’t make you worthy of our worship. They make you responsible for us.’
Finara’s forehead creased. ‘I love fire. Dancing in it, losing myself in the flames…it’s wonderful. Even a god deserves downtime because there’s a starking lot of mortals to look after. You’re all so exhausting, you know that? There’s always some problem I have to deal with. So I dance when I can. And I have a lot of sex. That’s fun. I don’t want to just live, Grace — I want to enjoy living. Like you mortals do.’
‘I don’t enjoy living and I don’t deserve to,’ Grace said quietly. ‘All I ever wanted was to become a mediaist. Because a mediaist gives a voice to the powerless. A mediaist helps people and sheds light on those who would prefer to conduct their activities in the shadows.’
Grace dropped her hand to her right thigh. ‘I lost more than part of a limb. I lost all respectability. Mediaists have to stand in front of a vidcam; text reporting hasn’t been popular for centuries. People want an aesthetically pleasing person on their vidscreens, not someone who can barely afford a prosthesis.’
‘I’d see the leg as proof that you’d do anything to get to the truth,’ Finara said.
‘It’s more than that! It’s a reminder to everyone, a reminder of what I did to those people. That I lived, when I should have died along with them.’ Grace stared down at the table, finding her fists anchored there. Her fingers ached. ‘I should never have shown the forcefield on my vidcam. Or the valley. The Creator God made a mistake in letting me live. So I’m going to rectify it.’
‘I could ask him if you were supposed to die that day,’ Finara offered. ‘If you’d like.’
Grace stared at her, aghast. ‘No! No one should question our Creator’s grand design.’
‘But you just said he made a mistake.’
Unable to muster a response, Grace stayed stubbornly silent until the seafood platter was replaced with a mountainous dessert. Finara lit up upon seeing the ‘volcano’ cake that oozed molten chocolate from its summit. Grace watched, amused, as the goddess took apart the dessert with relish. Finara had told her that gods did not need to consume food to surviv
e but clearly they could still enjoy it.
‘Do you get periods?’ Grace asked suddenly.
Finara set down her spoon. She looked irritable. ‘Yes. Every Old Earth month. I’ve had more periods than any human.’
‘And yet you are happy to live forever.’
Finara winked. ‘I don’t have a period now, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
Grace laced her fingers over her lap to keep them from trembling. ‘I’m scared. Should I really be having sex with a stranger just to satisfy my own curiosity?’
‘You should figure out the answer to that before we do anything,’ Finara told her. ‘I can easily amuse myself elsewhere. Like the Enocian Harem. What a place.’
‘No,’ Grace said firmly. ‘You gave me an exclusive, Ms Fire Goddess.’
Finara smiled and the flames in her eyes faded, leaving them entirely hazel.
• • •
Finara watched with increasing impatience as Grace hung up her pantsuit, aligning it just so on the hanger. The mortal then moved restlessly through the room and adjusted the lighting no fewer than five times, apparently incapable of acknowledging her companion. Finara lay on the bed, already nude. Bored, she began to play with her nipples, pinching them until they sat upright. When Grace’s gaze finally skirted towards her, Finara ordered, ‘Come here.’
Grace sat on the edge of the bed, carefully lowering her prosthesis to the floor without bending over; she had a towel wound tightly around her body. ‘This isn’t fair. No other mortal has ever had to contend with the knowledge that they are sleeping with a god.’
Finara snickered. ‘My brothers’ wives would disagree with you.’
Grace remained very still.
The Firine sensed her hesitance, her reluctance. This was something that Grace had always wanted but had never known how to take; to her it was as unattainable as the label of ‘wealthy respected mediaist’. Being suddenly confronted with the opportunity to have sex was hard for her.
Finara quashed her raging desire and said, ‘Hey, we don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle if you like.’
Grace’s shoulders slumped. ‘Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of shedding our clothes?’
‘Not if I get to see and feel you in all your glory,’ Finara told her with a grin.
Grace visibly steeled herself, then pulled the towel away from her skin. After some gentle coaxing, Grace moved onto her side and allowed the goddess to spoon her from behind. Finara drew the sheet over both of them then lay her hand on Grace’s abdomen, her other arm sliding beneath Grace’s pillow. When she pressed her wet desire against Grace, she heard the mortal’s sharp intake of breath, felt the shiver run through her. Finara’s fingers trailed down a soft thigh, hidden from view but revealed beneath her touch.
‘Can we…start and see if I’m willing to go further?’ Grace whispered.
‘Sounds good to me,’ Finara agreed. ‘Just relax.’
Easier said than done, she thought. Grace was stiff beneath her ministrations, but the mortal’s thighs clenched in anticipation whenever Finara’s touch skated over the wiry hair at the apex of her legs. Disturbed by Grace’s thoughts, which were filled with shame whenever the goddess’ fingers came too close to the stump of her right leg, Finara swept a hand over Grace’s ample backside, curving her palm against each cheek and making soft noises of approval as she went.
‘Stark, you’re beautiful,’ Finara murmured.
Grace arched against her, as though stretching, then abruptly grew lax and soft. Encouraged, Finara rolled Grace onto her back, then leaned over and kissed the mortal softly, sweetly. Though Grace kept her lips sealed, her eyes were wide and dark with lust.
Finara braced one hand against the bed, the other dancing along Grace’s side before it grasped the mortal’s thigh, firm and possessive. Finara lowered her mouth — she kept her gaze on Grace’s — then flicked her tongue backwards and forwards across a dark nipple. There was nothing complicated about what Finara was doing, but a light touch done consistently could drive anyone to the edge. And she sensed that it wouldn’t take long…
The mortal’s stubborn lips parted, releasing a gasp.
Finara licked her way up to Grace’s throat, then over to her ear. ‘This is how I like it done to me. So take notes. Now, before I get any lower — and I will — let me know if you’re comfortable with this.’
‘Put me out of my misery,’ Grace moaned.
‘Not for six more days,’ Finara whispered right before she captured a vulnerable earlobe between her teeth.
‘That’s not what I meant!’ Grace cried, indignation swelling alongside desire in her mind.
Finara grinned. She knew exactly what Grace had meant, what she wanted. As for the Firine…she wanted, even if only for one night, to erase all dark thoughts from Grace’s mind and instead fill it with pleasure.
Grace clamped a hand down over the one Finara had left on her thigh, trying to shift it higher. ‘Please. I want this. I need this. Please, give this to me.’
Finara flashed her a mischievous smile. ‘Don’t worry. I promised you an exclusive. I intend to deliver.’
• • •
The goddess’ lips left what felt like trails of fire down her stomach, which Grace would not have been surprised to actually see. Grace tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling and clenching the sheet beneath her, hard enough to tear. The anxiety that had lined her stomach had vanished, leaving room only for excitement. When lips caressed the skin beside her hip, so gentle and tender, she gasped and looked down at the goddess. Finara’s eyes, peering back at her, were filled with flames — and something much more potent.
Finara ran a quick finger down the moistening crease between Grace’s thighs. Grace whimpered, somehow unable to feel embarrassed by the sounds she was making. Smirking, Finara stroked the very edges of Grace’s core, a teasing touch that failed to firm, her fingers drifting over more hair than skin. Grace twisted to the side, begging, thrusting forward. But Finara continued to deftly avoid Grace’s most sensitive areas.
At last, when Grace thought she could stand it no more, she felt Finara’s fingers pressing into both sides of her labia — and then they pulled her apart, spreading her open for the goddess’ gaze. There was a very human hunger on that ageless face. Grace’s abdomen gave an impatient clench.
With agonising slowness, Finara extended her tongue and bent forward to graze it over the sensitive nub before her.
‘Ah!’ Grace cried and attempted to grind against Finara’s mouth.
The goddess held her down, hands grasping Grace’s hips. ‘None of that, Ms Lucky Mediaist. I’m going to have you and I’m going to take my time about it. You’ll just have to suffer.’
‘Oh God,’ Grace managed.
Finara tsked, running her fingers up Grace’s folds. They met in the middle, rising, rising — then darted away before they could touch Grace’s aching clitoris. ‘Try again.’
Grace writhed. ‘Please, please.’
‘Not until you correct yourself.’
‘Fine — oh goddess!’ Grace exclaimed.
Finara wrapped her lips around Grace’s swollen nub, suckling lightly, oh so lightly, but it was enough to send bolts of lightning coursing through Grace’s unprepared body, bolts that seared her skin and slammed into every finger and toe.
Grace arched her back. She couldn’t see. Her eyes refused to open.
So close, she was so close, and they’d barely begun —
Finara’s mouth abandoned her.
Grace cried out.
When she felt Finara’s weight shift on the bed, Grace frowned down at the goddess who was now propping herself up with an elbow. Finara arched one fine brunette eyebrow; it didn’t match her dark hair and Grace wondered why she had not noticed before. With calculated languor, Finara licked the pads of her fingers before pressing them to her own nipples, sighing in pleasure as she began to work the moisture in.
Grace’s clitoris gave an insistent throb.
‘I’m considering taking my pleasure from you first,’ Finara declared.
Grace’s eyelashes fluttered as she pictured what the goddess would do to achieve that goal. Perhaps she’d sit astride Grace’s face, her slick lips delivering a kiss far more intimate than any Grace had ever experienced. Perhaps the goddess would demand more than one release before she was willing to let Grace finally tumble over the edge.
‘Mmm, you have a good imagination,’ Finara said.
‘You saw that.’ A statement, not a question. Then Grace rushed out, ‘Do you want to sit on my face?’
Finara’s chuckle was low, sensual. ‘I’ve got my own unfinished business, mortal.’
‘Then get on with it!’ Grace told her.
‘Oh, I intend to.’
Her grin wide and wicked, the fire goddess gave her full attention to Grace once more. She alternated between licking Grace’s nub and sucking it, somehow knowing just the right rhythm to use to push her lover closer to climax. Grace was already preparing to succumb when a firm finger eased its way inside her — and pressed.
Pleasure stabbed into Grace, sudden and overwhelming and impossible to resist. She pushed down hard, clenching and firmly capturing Finara’s finger. Grace’s entire being was reduced to the sensations exploding between her thighs and she felt like she might die from the intensity of her orgasm, but she didn’t care. She would gladly die in rapture than in the path of some volcano.
After a glorious eternity, Finara’s finger slipped out of her and swirled around her clitoris, eliciting an unbearable spasm.
Grace sobbed and squirmed. ‘It’s too much. It’s too much.’
Finara released her.
Dimly, Grace was aware of the goddess rolling her back onto her side. They lay there together for a time, locked in an embrace, the room’s climate-controlled air frigid against their heated skin. When Grace finally regained her senses, she took Finara’s hand from her hip and brought one digit up to her mouth. Grace hesitated, wondering if she should go ahead with this ridiculous idea of hers, but then she dismissed her doubts and suckled her way from the tip of Finara’s finger down to the first knuckle.
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 3
