Despite the Rforine being so young (Kuja was just shy of eighty years old), he carried himself with confidence and his emerald eyes were fierce and determined. He was a force to be reckoned with, especially if he thought his wife and son were in danger. Coming to Kuja’s home had been a mistake.
‘No!’ Rasson said, retreating a pace. It would not be enough to take him out of Kuja’s range, but hopefully it made him seem less threatening. ‘I do not mindlessly enact Fayay’s bidding, no matter what any of you think — well, no more than you do for Sandsa, your favourite.’
‘Sandsa is not…’ Sorrow washed over the Rforine’s freckled face. ‘Sandsa is lost to me. He suffers eternally, thanks to the Ine.’
Sandsa, the Desine, had married a woman who had insisted he live as a man because she couldn’t bear to be with a god. That had ended as badly as one might imagine, but the mortal served her purpose. The Ine (the name the sub-level gods used for their father) had created her to teach the desert god how to love so that he could better care for those who worshipped him.
And if Sandsa had refused to go back to his domain…his wife had borne a child that could easily replace him.
Fayay had found nothing wrong with their father’s plan, because he believed that the deserts should always have a god — one way or another. Rasson had been more than happy to help Fayay track Sandsa down. Together, along with several of their siblings, they had gone after the Desine, forcing him to become a god once more. It had all seemed just at the time.
But even after they had succeeded, Fayay had wanted to continue his attack on the Desine’s family. Out of desperation, Sandsa’s wife had made a deal with the water god; in return for her son never using the powers he’d inherited from the Desine, Fayay would leave her and the child alone.
Rasson swallowed. ‘Kuja, what happened…has never sat right with me.’
‘Don’t suppose you’ve ever mentioned that to Fayay,’ Kuja snapped.
‘No. I haven’t.’
Kuja regarded his brother for a long moment, a frown writing lines over his features. He was one of the many sub-level gods who could read minds, but he was also one of the few who possessed an endless well of sympathy.
Finally, the Rforine sighed, as if he pitied the Iceine.
Rasson did not appreciate that. He loved Fayay and supported him by choice. So few of their siblings realised that the barbs and violence were a cloak that Fayay threw over his true self to conceal his fears and his vulnerability.
‘Why are you here, Rasson?’ Kuja asked, his voice softening.
‘Ever since the Ine revealed that we are allowed to fall in love, I’ve seen the others start to develop feelings for specific mortals and I…’ Rasson trailed off.
‘You do not need to choose your words carefully with me,’ Kuja told him.
Rasson glanced around at the nearby trees, at the gaps between them, afraid that Fayay might suddenly appear and berate him for speaking to someone no less hated than Sandsa.
‘I…’ Rasson swallowed. ‘I want to know if it’s possible to find an eternal partner for myself.’
‘I take it Fayay has said it’s not something worth pursuing.’
Rasson kept his lips sealed this time.
‘And you have seen how happy I am, with Fei and my son,’ Kuja continued, clearly reading the thoughts that Rasson couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. ‘Rasson, it’s not easy. You can’t just pick someone and make them love you.’
‘But Father made it so that Sandsa fell in love with Callista,’ Rasson argued. ‘And he meant for you to meet your wife. That was all part of the Ine’s grand design.’
Shadows flitted through Kuja’s green eyes. ‘I won’t deny that. Yes, I was destined to meet Fei. But Father created her so that she could teach me to be a better god, not become my wife. Our love was incidental. Fei and I did that on our own.’ A small smile pricked the corners of Kuja’s lips, but then his gaze grew serious once more. ‘Rasson, listen, falling in love is the easy part. You have to work hard to maintain a marriage. And guess what? No mortal owes you their love. They can choose not to love you.’
‘But there must be someone for me,’ Rasson insisted.
‘Why…’ Kuja hesitated. ‘Why do you want this?’
Rasson turned away, icy shards hailing down around him as he prepared to teleport away. ‘I’ve been here for too long. Do not mention this meeting to anyone.’
When he returned to his domain, Rasson dove into his duties rather than wait for Fayay to arrive. The Watine rarely visited his brother, but he always brought with him the love and companionship that Rasson craved. It was generous of Fayay to spend any time with the Iceine when he didn’t need to…and yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough.
Rasson needed someone to fill his loneliest hours.
• • •
‘I have chosen you,’ Rasson declared. He knew his companion could not hear him, but the words erased the awful silence that Fayay had left behind. ‘You should be very grateful.’
Rasson kept a hand on the mortal’s frigid coffin, ensuring that it did not drift away while their new home was being built. The skyscraper-sized iceberg knew exactly what Rasson wanted; it was hewing rooms and tunnels inside itself so that it could provide a palatial fortress, one worthy of the Iceine’s consort.
The mortal’s skin had taken on a blue tinge, but Rasson knew that with enough care and devotion it would return to its normal tan colour. He found himself admiring that solid frame, those strong firm hips —
Rasson looked down at his slim build and frowned. ‘You will find me pleasing. I’m sure you will.’
When the last piece of their crystalline home boomed into place, Rasson teleported inside the iceberg, his consort at his side; a position the mortal would hold for all eternity.
Rasson shivered with anticipation.
CHAPTER TWO
The warmth was almost stifling.
It swarmed over every limb and every piece of meat clinging to his bones, cooking him from the inside out, but Dom was unable to wriggle away from it. He wondered if he was in the throes of sleep paralysis, as he sometimes was at dawn. He had learned to lie quietly during these moments of fright, forcing himself to remain calm until his body no longer refused to obey his mind.
Sometimes he would pass the time by studying the ceiling of his hotel room. But this didn’t look like any hotel decor he’d ever seen. The gentle curves and swirls reminded him of the organic caves on the planet Nanlis, over on the Orion Spur. Given enough time, the caves would hollow out and grow steadily more translucent, until they eroded into white sand that eventually formed entirely different catacombs.
Dom made a mental note to pay the right amount of compliments to the owner of this hotel, whatever its name was. But for now…there was nothing to do but wait until the paralysis faded.
Something shifted in his spine.
‘Ah!’ Dom gasped.
‘Did that hurt?’ a gentle voice asked him.
Dom wondered if the grimace made it onto his face. ‘No, it — it felt wrong.’
Soft laughter swept over him, like a caress. ‘I’m not surprised. You broke your back in that fall. I am knitting your vertebrae together again.’
Galactic Gods! The panic was like a lasbolt to the heart; when it struck, Dom’s chest compressed and he fought for air. His lungs gave an even greater spasm when sensation abruptly came flooding back into his limbs. Dom writhed.
‘Stop struggling!’ The voice was firm now. ‘You will interrupt the healing process and I do not wish for your body to break again. I have put much effort into repairing it.’
Dom might have obeyed had he not realised that there were restraints on his wrists and ankles. These weren’t the usual lascuffs favoured by the Galactic Law Enforcement Agency (and he’d worn a pair of those during one very lascivious evening with a GLEA agent) — no, these were like ice, cold enough to burn. He yanked furiously at his restraints, but they were hard and unyielding. He’d
definitely be counting bruises later.
‘Hold still or I will throw you back to the waves!’ the voice snapped.
Dom went very, very still.
When a few minutes had passed, he cautiously tilted his head forward, his chin grazing his chest. He was naked, but that wasn’t the strangest thing about his situation. There were two pallid hands with long, thin fingers hovering over his torso; they seemed to be the source of the white haze that was smothering him. Dom knew, somehow, that this was for his benefit. The cuffs though…they definitely weren’t. Dom figured he must be hallucinating because they really did look like they were growing out of the slab of ice that formed his bed.
‘Look, if you’re hoping for a ransom, you won’t get anything,’ Dom warned. ‘The Graphic Stock Collection hires thousands of footographers. They won’t care if I go missing. I’m expendable.’
‘I have no need for coin-chips.’ Another laugh, one that sounded like the tinkling of glass wind chimes. ‘Do you have any family?’
Dom couldn’t help it. He snorted. ‘Same deal. I’m one of fifteen. My parents never had the time to notice me when I was there, let alone when I wasn’t.’
‘Perfect,’ the voice said, a surprising amount of satisfaction filling that single word.
‘Perfect…perfect for what?’ Dom demanded.
When the voice did not immediately answer, he dropped his head to the side. A dark blur swiftly darted around behind him, evading his gaze, and the white light dimmed for a moment as the man — at least, it had sounded like man — readjusted his position. Dom tried to wrench his neck around to catch a glimpse of his captor, but he felt ice — definitely ice — grow up and over his temples, sealing his head in place.
‘You’re not human,’ he deduced.
‘My mother was a human, like you.’
‘And your father?’ Dom nearly laughed at himself, for being distracted when there was a much more pressing matter to deal with. ‘Forget I asked that. What are you going to do with me?’
There was a distant boom, like thunder. Dom felt the ensuing vibrations in the firm surface beneath him and wondered if a nearby ice shelf had collapsed.
‘I plan to ensure that your stay here is a very pleasant one,’ that voice said lowly.
More vibrations, but this time they came from inside Dom. He shivered and wasn’t sure why, because the light encasing him was still close to becoming unbearably hot.
‘But first you must rest.’ The stranger released a regretful sigh that never quite settled, like feet skidding over a frozen lake. ‘You mortals are so fragile. I’m not sure how you survived without me.’
The strange light cut out. Dom tensed, expecting to feel a chill, but thick furs were pulled over him and stuffed beneath his back. Dom would have thought this a tender gesture if he hadn’t been secured to the bed. But he kept his complaints to himself while thin strips of cloth were carefully inserted into the cuffs, separating his skin from ice.
‘Sleep well, mortal,’ the voice said. ‘I will return once you are rested.’
As his captor’s footsteps padded away, Dom found that he could barely keep his eyes open. He didn’t fight the darkness, couldn’t fight it — and he figured that if he played along for now, he’d be able to attempt some sort of escape later.
If he could just figure out where the stark he was.
• • •
The vidcam yielded more treasure than Rasson could have hoped for.
After he retrieved it, he sat for several hours in the spacious antechamber, flipping through the footage on the small playback screen, entranced by the many landscapes, seascapes and skyscapes that had been captured by the device. Some mortals were happy to live their whole lives on the one planet, but it seemed his consort — Dom Zhang, according to some voices that had spoken off-screen — had seen hundreds of different horizons in his three decades of life.
Rasson had never thought the waterfalls in Kuja’s rainforests anything special until he saw them lit perfectly by a star winking its way through the treetops. And he had never admired the barren desert dunes belonging to Sandsa until Dom had made them look like precious mounds of gold.
‘Beautiful,’ Rasson breathed, but not at the scenery. It seemed the vidcam also contained a cache of footage showing Dom sleeping with various men. ‘I’ve chosen so well. But of course this philandering will need to stop now that you are mine.’
Rasson set the device down and instead studied his unblemished palms, envisioning the binding scars that would appear there after he married his consort. Giddiness descended, threatening to swamp him — but no, he couldn’t celebrate, not yet. He first had to make sure that Dom knew the price of marrying a god.
The Iceine worried his lips together. Immortality. He would be passing it on to Dom once they were bound. It might be difficult for a mortal to adjust to the concept of living forever. Rasson wished he had asked Kuja how he’d helped his wife come to terms with it.
No matter. Dom would have all of eternity to adjust.
But right now, the mortal was awake and calling out for assistance. That husky voice would soon caress Rasson’s name, those gold-rimmed chestnut eyes would fill with adoration and those travel-worn hands —
Rasson ran to the door dividing him from his consort, but his footsteps faltered before he could reach it.
‘What if he does not like what he sees?’ Rasson wondered, opening his dark silksein robe and looking down at his too-thin, too-pale form. He had always been naked beneath it and would have gone without the robe entirely, except that Fayay…
Fayay is not here, Rasson reminded himself.
The door, which was a sheet of ice, slid aside and became one with the wall, allowing Rasson to tread tentatively over to his consort. Still restrained on the bed, Dom twisted around as much as he could in order to see Rasson. The Iceine quickly cinched the robe tighter around his body and sent a mental command to the cuffs. They withdrew and vanished, absorbed by the colossal structure.
Rasson threw a similar silksein robe at his consort. Dom was still belting it on as he stood up, his eyes trained directly on the god who was approaching him. Rasson wet his lips. What he wouldn’t give to be able to read minds, the way his sister Isabis could —
‘Let me go,’ Dom ordered.
Rasson glanced down at himself. ‘Is my form that displeasing to you?’
Dom blinked once, twice — and ignored the question entirely. ‘Look, I’m grateful you healed me. I get that you might want something in return. But I won’t be your hostage.’
‘You are not a hostage,’ Rasson assured him.
‘Like I said, I’m grateful — ’
The ice cracked beneath Rasson’s feet, sending tiny crevices sprawling out in all directions. Dom hastily retreated to the bed.
Rasson drew a deep breath, then slowly released it. The fortress stilled.
‘I will never hurt you, Dom,’ he told his consort. ‘But I was remiss in not explaining myself. I apologise.’
‘I’d get right on that if I was you,’ the mortal said flatly.
It wasn’t until he attempted to move closer that Rasson realised that spikes of ice had crept up around his ankles, holding them in place. He shot a look down at the floor and switched to mind-speech. What are you doing?
You have frightened the mortal, Master, the ice replied. We think it would be wiser if you stayed where you are.
‘Oh,’ Rasson said out loud, feeling foolish. Now he could see that Dom was shivering and it wasn’t entirely because of the cold. ‘I chose you as my consort.’
Dom’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his shaggy russet hairline. ‘Don’t I get a say in that?’
Rasson frowned. ‘I will not perform the binding before obtaining your consent. But I chose you and you will bow to me on this matter.’
The mortal’s eyes raked over him, lingering in a way that made Rasson tremble with excitement. ‘You’re a sub-level god — the god of ice, I’m hazarding.’
&nbs
p; ‘Yes,’ Rasson said, pleased. An intelligent mortal was going to make things so much easier.
Dom took another step back and collided with the bed. He quickly sat down, as though to keep himself from falling to the floor.
‘I will never hurt you,’ Rasson reaffirmed.
‘No, you’ll just hold me hostage and demand I marry you,’ Dom snapped, then his face immediately blanched. He looked as deathly pale as he had been mere hours ago. ‘I don’t mean any disrespect, but the Creator God — your father, if the rumours are right — gave us mortals free will when he created us. So I choose to exercise said free will.’
Rasson’s lips parted but no sound escaped them. He could not win that argument.
‘I won’t marry you.’ Dom crossed his arms. ‘So let me go.’
‘But I saved your life,’ Rasson tried.
Dom’s stare did not wilt, but his bravado was clearly fading. He was now shaking violently and goosebumps were spreading along his bare legs. Rasson desperately wanted to drape the furs back around Dom — or perhaps use his own arms to warm his consort.
‘Are you hungry, Dom?’ Rasson asked, keeping his feet still even after the ice encasing them had thawed. ‘Are you cold? Tired? Do you — do you require entertainment? I’m not even sure what you mortals do with your time.’
Dom gave a short snort of laughter. ‘That’s obvious. Well, here’s my daily routine. I wake up. I go to the bathroom. If I’m lucky, there’s someone in my bed I can screw. Then I eat. And then I leave.’
Rasson decided to overlook the jibe. ‘Leave to do what?’
‘Work, earn a living, see the galaxy,’ Dom said. His shoulders abruptly straightened out of their slump. ‘My gear — did you see what happened to my gear?’
Rasson attempted to hide the answer from his face.
Dom’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have my gear. Or at least you have my vidcam. That wouldn’t have fallen in with me until its battery ran out.’
Rasson allowed a smile to infuse his cheeks with warmth — and subtly increased the temperature of his body. Usually he kept it close to freezing but that wasn’t likely to entice Dom into his personal space. ‘Yes. I enjoyed perusing the footage on it.’
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 7
