The Dark God's Bride

by Dahlia Lu

  Dark...

  Not the darkness.

  Not again.

  Silence...

  I hate the silence.

  I hate to hear my own voice.

  No.

  Soft breathing calming the night...

  Sweet voice blocking out my detestable thoughts…

  Where is her voice?

  Say something.

  Say something…

  Say something...!

  His blue eyes flashed open, finding his body where he had last left it; in the middle of the burial chamber. He gave his head a quick shake and then scanned his surroundings. His heart nearly stopped when he found her lying limp against the wall. She wasn’t breathing, but he could detect the faintest of heartbeat.

  Did I do this?

  He shifted to her and examined her fragile body. Her ribcage was broken. The back of her head was injured. Evidently, he had thrown her against the wall while he was in his trance.

  Noctis muttered a curse under his breath. He summoned crystal orb around her body to reverse the damage he’d caused. As long as there was still a heartbeat in her body, it could be done.

  Amara kept a constant glare on him as she devoured the large tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice-cream. She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t yell at him, but she sure as hell could intimidate him with her glare. It was her way of retaliating against him and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Must you eat sweets at this hour?” He finally said something. “The ants are going to crawl into our bed.”

  “I need to recover and ice cream is very important for the healing process.”

  “You have recovered,” he corrected her.

  Not even an apology.

  “My body, maybe, but mentally I am still pretty messed up. You flung me against the wall and broke most of the bones in my body. It was painful and my brain hasn’t been able to shake that off yet.”

  “Stop whining, mortal... It wasn’t even that bad.”

  She gave him a gasp of disbelief. “I couldn’t even breathe! I thought I was going to die!”

  “It is clear that you haven’t, but if it’s any consolation then proceed.”

  Amara was grinding her teeth with anger. She scooped out the melted ice cream settled on the bottom of the tub and smeared it onto his chest.

  “May the ants eat you alive,” she said with a challenging grin.

  He frowned at her. “You know what this means.”

  “What does it mean?” she asked.

  “You have to clean that up.”

  “No.”

  He raised his left brow at her defiance.

  She rolled her eyes. “Go shower.”

  “If you recall, I showered just before coming to bed.”

  She grabbed a piece of paper towel from the side table, but then decided she had a better idea. She’d make him apologize the only way she knew how. She had lessons from some of the most notorious temptresses in the realm of Hell, though she could not recall why specifically. They liked to teach her what they know and she absorbed whatever they brought to the table like a sponge.

  It was time to put those skills to practice.

  She dropped the paper towel and set the tub of ice cream on the side table. She wiggled a shoulders a bit, so that her nightgown would reveal more of her assets. She deviously smiled as she leaned toward him.

  “Would you apologize to me if I clean this up… with my tongue?”

  He stared back at her, dumbfounded at first, then his expression turned intrigued. “You want me to feel remorse over something I had no control over or memory of?”

  “It’s just an apology. It’s not that hard.” She leaned over him. “I’m waiting.”

  “You can wait until the world freezes over. Again...”

  “You forced me to do this.” She began with a slow, upward lick.

  “I did not…” He clutched her chin and their eyes clashed. He rasped, “Mortal, I am a man. You are playing with fire.”

  “Apologize to me,” she insisted.

  “No,” he said flatly. “If you want to get burned, then who am I to stop you?”

  “No apology?”

  “No.”

  Then I will make you regret it.

  “You won’t do a thing to me,” she said confidently.

  “What makes you say that?”

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “Because I am the wife of your arch-nemesis and you have bigger plans for me.”

  His eyes darkened with rage and she could see it as clear as day. There was no mistaken hostility. “Plans that I can change at any given time,” he grated softly. He seized her by the shoulders and flipped her onto her back. He mounted over her and pinned her against the mattress. The back of his fingers gently stroked the side of her face, causing her breathing to labor. “You know what I am capable of, mortal.”

  She knew and nodded.

  He leaned in to whisper into her ear. “You are treading on very thin ice and you never know when you are going to sink in. I won’t kill you, but I have other ways to deal with you. Don’t take any more chances. Now are you going to sleep quietly or would you prefer I tire you out first?”

  She hesitated a moment longer than she intended. For some unknown reason, she knew his threats were empty. She debated whether she should trust her instinct and play her cards right or quietly back down. She had nothing gain, but an apology and everything to lose.

  Amara knew better than to play a losing game. There was so much at risk. If he should find out that she was a virgin, he would quickly arrive to the conclusion that she was not who she claimed she was. That would put her mother on the direct path for danger. Amara couldn’t let that happen. Kali had done so much for her since she was nine years old. She owed the woman her very life.

  While it was true that he was the one who abducted the wrong woman, she did little to correct his mistake. If he should discover the truth, he would feel deceived. He would have her killed and then go after her mother. Amara didn’t care about herself. She was going to die anyways. Noctis was highly unstable and if he turned violence toward her mother, Amara would never forgive herself.

  The truth will die with me.

  “Quietly,” she answered softly as she closed her eyes. The tears seeped through her thick lashes and slid down the curvature of her cheeks. She cursed herself for letting him see them.

  He promptly released her.

  Noctis needed a way to release his rage and he needed it soon. A cold shower did nothing to cool his mind or wane his frustrations. He wanted release, and he would take it in any form – blood, gore, or sex. It didn’t matter. They were all equally attractive.

  Alcohol is a lesser substitute.

  “Another?” the bartender asked.

  He didn’t know what bothered him more – the thick cigar smoke in the poorly ventilated area or the woman in a short blue dress sitting across the bar trying to catch his attention with her large breasts.

  He nodded.

  The bartender poured him another shot and he gulped it down in a single go, just like the fourteen other shots since he had entered the bar. The bartender gave him a hesitant look when he demanded another.

  “Do you have a bigger glass?” Noctis asked as he tipped over the empty shot glass. “I find these little ones won’t do.”

  “You sure can handle your liquor,” the bartender said as he reached for a glass from under counter.

  The woman came closer to sit next to him.

  “Do you need company tonight?” She asked seductively, as she rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, giving him a better view of her breasts. The amount of perfume on her body was ludicrously offensive to his acute sense of smell.

  “No actually, I have a little lady waiting in my
bed as we speak.”

  Crying...

  He drained another glass.

  “Then what are you doing here… alone?”

  Could not control my strength... Made her cry...

  He gave the woman a predatory smile and told her, “I’m looking for trouble.”

  She was looking at him with admiration in her hazel eyes. Her chest rose and fell with each of her strenuous breaths. She sensually shifted her sitting position from one leg to the other and lured his eyes to follow the generous curvatures of her body. He didn’t need to read her mind to know that she wanted him.

  Finally a normal reaction from women…

  Commotions from the other side of the bar called for his attention. Noctis observed four brawny looking men cornering a young blonde against the wall. He could hear their conversation very clearly. Apparently the blonde’s father owes them money and couldn’t pay the amount with interests. Their hands were sexually harassing her despite her protests.

  “Oh dear,” he heard the bartender muttered.

  The blonde scanned the room, found the most intimidating male in the bar, and ran straight for Noctis. She hid behind him, expecting him to be her shield. Her emerald green eyes beckoned him to be her hero. Her childish expectation was beyond amusing. It was uproarious.

  On a normal occasion, he would have turned a blind eye, but he hadn’t lied. He was looking for trouble and trouble found him. He wanted nothing to do with saving the blonde damsel in distress. She could be raped and murdered for all he cared, but it appeared to be her lucky night.

  Ignoring the girl, he turned his attention to the four men and approached them with unmistaken hostility.

  “I think we should go,” the woman in the blue dress said as she urgently tugged on his jacket.

  He should restrain himself and savor the situation or it would be over before he could draw any satisfaction out of it. A devious smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

  Blood and gore it is.

  He returned sometime late at night.

  Amara didn’t know the specific time and she hadn’t bothered to look at the digital clock on the side table. She heard him take off his jacket, drop it on one of the chairs, and watched him going into the adjoining bathroom. In the light, she could see red spots on his white collar.

  Blood…? He went out to kill?

  He took a third shower that night and then climbed into bed next to her. She drawled in a deep breath when she felt his arms around her waist and he pulled her toward him. His body was still damp from the shower. She couldn’t help but think that those were the same arms that took lives only hours… maybe even minutes ago.

  “Sleep,” he commanded softly. Somehow he knew she was awake.

  Instead of sleep as he commanded, her body trembled from revelation. Lying next to her was a cold-blooded immortal killer who takes what he wants and he would do it by any means necessary. He’d left this room in the heat of rage and some poor, unsuspecting souls out there suffered for it. He’d said that he couldn’t kill her, but there were other ways of dealing with her. Was this what he had meant? If she disobeyed him, others would suffer for it?

  She’d never truly feared anyone. She was truly and genuinely afraid of the man whose arms she was in.

  “Mortal, you are shaking.”

  She was shaking violently against her will. Her body recognized fear. Her brain was producing adrenaline.

  This is not me.

  The last time she felt like this was when she was face to face with a subway train.

  “Do you need to be taken to a hospital? If you die without my permission, I will drag you back from the realm of the dead and I promise you it will not be a pleasant experience for either of us.” He turned her around to face him. His hand cupped the back of her neck. “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m not hurt,” she choked. His piercing blue eyes made her body shuddered.

  “Then why are you shaking?”

  It’s because my physical body is learning to fear you.

  She couldn’t tell him that. She would rather die than tell him that.

  “I’m… I’m cold,” she lied.

  His eyes traced the contour of her face as if he was contemplating something. She had no doubt that he was trying to think of the next insult. Instead, he surprised her by pulling her closer to his rock hard body. She could feel his fingers dig into her hair and find a happy home there.

  Unfortunately, so did she...

  “I will take pleasure in killing you, mortal,” he said under his breath.

  Her heart rate spiked again. She’d never been this close to male before and she dreaded that it had to be him. The reminder that he was only doing this to keep her alive so that he could kill her later was no comfort either. If she could see the color of his heart, she’d bet it would be black. Pitch black.

  She didn’t know how she could fall asleep in the arms of a man she felt nothing but contempt for, but she did.

  Chapter Ten

  Noctis woke to the sound of chattering teeth.

  The mortal was clutching tightly onto him. Her small body was shivering violently in his arms. Her face was chalked pale and her forehead was covered in large beads of sweats.

  His hand flew to her forehead and his lips tightened at the abnormally high temperature. She was running a high fever. He left her on the bed and called for his staff. He knew nothing about caring for a mortal. He had forgotten how.

  The head butler and three young maids knocked at the door several minutes later. He rushed the girls in, while blocking the butler’s way.

  “I will call for a doctor,” the butler said as he left.

  Noctis closed the door behind him.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked impatiently.

  One of them replied, “She’s running a high fever, sir. We need to get her out of those drenched clothes and wipe her body down until the doctor comes.”

  He gave them an approval nod.

  They pulled her silk nightgown over her head and worked quickly to wipe her body with damped towels. His lips parted at the sight of her full breasts and he immediately directed his gaze elsewhere. After they finished, they dressed her in another nightgown and tucked her in two layers of blankets. A damped cloth was placed on her forehead.

  The maids’ eyes followed him across the room.

  He stopped himself when he noticed that he was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

  “I will let you know when you are needed again,” he said warily.

  “Yes, sir,” they replied as they left the room, one after the other.

  He stalked to the side of the bed and stared down at her. His blue eyes focused on her labored breathing. Inexplicable anger simmered inside of him. He had never hated her weakness and vulnerabilities more than he did this minute. He hated them as though they were his own.

  He sharply turned when he heard a knock.

  He shifted to the door and opened it. He grabbed the man, whom he assumed to be the doctor, and dragged him into the room.

  “Fix her!” Noctis demanded, as he shoved the doctor toward the bed.

  The man frowned at his violent behavior, but wasted no time in examining the girl. He removed the damped cloth and briefly touched her forehead, before pulling out his instruments from the bag he carried with him. Noctis watched each movement carefully and let out a low growl when the doctor pressed a strange looking instrument against her chest.

  “Young man,” the doctor said to him, “you are making me very nervous.”

  “As you should be,” Noctis replied.

  “I know you are very worried about your wife, but this behavior is unacceptable. Would you please wait outside?”

  “I will stay here,” he said firmly.

  The doctor heaved a deep breath, shook his head, and t
hen resumed his practice.

  “What is her medical history? Is she allergic to any medication?”

  “I don’t know,” Noctis responded with a look of impatience, “just fix her.”

  “106 degrees,” the doctor muttered, “her fever is dangerously high. I will need to…”

  “Do whatever it is you need to do!” He snapped. “Just make her well again…”

  The doctor gave him a disapproval look. He searched his bag for a syringe. When he found the right one, he uncapped it and pushed out the air bubbles out before injecting the liquid into her arm. The doctor left instructions and was escorted out by the head butler.

  The sound of her uneven breathing filled the quiet corners of the room, giving an unsettling rhythm to the night.

  Her dark eyelashes quivered and fluttered open.

  He shifted to the bed and seized her by her thin shoulders. “You will not die without my permission,” he rasped. “Do you hear me?”

  Her small body was trembling in his hands as she attempted a nod.

  He released her. He ripped open his shirt, sending the frustrating buttons flying. He dropped it on the ground and then joined her on the bed. He nested her head on his shoulder and she instinctually clung onto him for warmth.

  Amara felt an icy chill pass her body at set intervals. She shivered so violently that her teeth chattered out loud. Her head felt as heavy as lead. Her left arm was stinging and aching at the same time. Nothing about her body felt right.

  Her throat felt as dry as chalk. Amara slipped out of bed and a few steps later, realized it was a mistake. A dizzy spell claimed her. Her vision darkened. Her balance was off.

  A pair of strong hands kept her standing. She was being carried back into bed.

  “Water,” she pleaded with a hoarse voice.

  Not a minute passed before she had a glass in her hand. She drank it greedily and drained the glass in one gulp. The glass was retrieved from her and she flopped onto the pillow, panting. Once again, she drifted back to sleep.

  Amara was awakened sometime later at the light touch. There were two young women in the room with her in maid’s uniforms. One of the ladies helped her sit up while the other one placed a breakfast tray – oatmeal , rolls and butter, sliced apples, and a glass of orange juice – over her legs.