Stigmata

by L M Adams

  How could I have ever doubted such a thing? Such a promise made by such a man? How could I ever think that he would betray me? Cheat on me? Search for the arms of another?

  Lucien is simply too fucking honorable for that.

  What a fool you’ve been Capaneus, what a fucking fool.

  I push through the bodies, determined to reach him. Once or twice I get disdainful looks until they realize that I’m Capaneus, I am the Raja’s prince; I am important, and he has set me above all others… then they bow their heads and shift out of the way for me.

  He’d done that, he’d proclaimed his heart as mine and Jaevia’s. He’d let the entire world know who he’d chosen. Would I have done the same if instead of here we were in Calloway? Would I have had the courage to stand in front of my people and openly admit that half of my heart belonged to this man?

  I will never know, because should the day ever come, I will climb to the highest tower of Calloway and shout it upon the air in light and in darkness, I know that now, I know that after learning this very painful lesson – love what you have when you have it, and never be ashamed of it.

  Finally my efforts payoff and I burst through the crush of bodies to the last table before the fighting sandpit begins. There’s a competition happening now, two women with long spears battling and people are enjoying the show, cheering… laughing.

  Everyone but Lucien, he’s sitting at the table a million miles away staring into his own cup… sad, horribly fucking sad. No one would know it, not an outsider, not really, but I do… because I’m his husband and I’m the one that broke his heart.

  I’d done that to him, to this strong beautiful creature – I’d stolen the joy that was his to have.

  “Goddess help me now,” I mumble and stride forward to the table.

  He looks up at me as I reach him, and I see the spark of happiness before his mind remembers how much hurt I’ve caused him, and then I watch as that spark dampens.

  “Capaneus,” he nods.

  Of course he’s not going to let on that anything is wrong… pride, stubbornness, who knows, who cares?

  I make a fist and swing for his jaw as hard as I possibly can. My knuckles meet bone and teeth with a crack; whipping his head to the side, his locs swinging wildly.

  When he turns to look back at me, touching his fingertips to the blossom of blood budding from the corner of his mouth; the entire hall falls silent. The laughter stops, the drums cease, all eyes are on me… or perhaps him – waiting to see what the king does.

  “Have you lost your mind?” I think he asks in all seriousness… still shocked I do believe.

  I shrug.

  He stands up, banging his hands on the table. “Get back to our rooms now,” his chest growls with warning.

  Nassor, never far from his king’s side, rushes to me, grabbing my arm. I yank away.

  “I am not a naughty child to be sent to my room, so either challenge me to a fight or sit the fuck back down with your busted lip and shut the fuck up about it.”

  The fire erupts in his eyes as his nose flairs. “You wish a challenge?”

  I nod curtly. He grins, not with an ounce of mirth. The Beast may actually try to kill me tonight.

  “Choose your weapon,” I demand now full tilt into this insane plan of mine.

  “Claws,” he rumbles low and my heart falls.

  I may have had half a fucking chance with swords. But I’ve never fought with their claws. I don’t know the art… but I have to win; this is my last fucking chance and if I don’t win, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  It is his right to choose the weapon, I was the one who extended the insult… a very fucking public insult. All I can do is bluster through it and pray.

  Seems tonight is a night for a lot of praying.

  113

  Jack - Fight in the Lion’s den

  In perhaps an odd turn of events, it is Nassor that chooses to stand as my warrior’s hand. No one else stepped forward when Lucien called for a volunteer.

  Perhaps everyone thinks I’ve fallen out of favor with their king and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong about that either.

  Both Lucien and I strip down to just our pants and boots in the sandpit. I sit on the small bench as Nassor sees to tying on the lion claw to my left hand. Four extremely sharp blades protrude from the hollowed-out lion fur mimicking the original claws that were once in their place.

  Around the edges of the square sandpit, people crowd in to get a good look on the stone stairs. Above us, the walls all the way up to the ceiling are carved with the mighty tales of Apedemak’s battles. In these sands, better warriors than me have fought, have bled, and have probably died.

  I look up into the crowd, trying to figure out if word has reached Jaevia and she has rushed to the lion’s den. I don’t want her here; I can’t be sure she wouldn’t try to intervene. Lucien and I… we have to work this out between us, it has to be about us; as selfish as it sounds. I need him to know me and love me without her magic and influence.

  Perhaps I do have a bit of luck; after a thorough scan of the faces in the crowd, I don’t see Jaevia, I don’t feel her magic either. Maybe no one ran off to tell her.

  I look back at Lucien, well he looks like he’s going to murder me. Fuck, this was stupid.

  “I did not take you for a foolish man,” Nassor mumbles under his breath as he wraps the cloth around my palm, securing the hollowed-out lion’s claw to the back of my hand.

  “Then you don’t know me,” I say calmly not taking my eyes from Lucien as he sits on the bench also having his claws being tied on.

  “Perhaps not, perhaps not at all, I did not think you had this in you,” he sounds sad, or surprised.

  “I’m not a weakling,” I frown up at the man.

  “I never thought that, no weakling could claim Hari’s heart. Of this I am sure – but I did not think you a complete fucking idiot.”

  I look back at Lucien, firelit eyes in dark flesh, muscles rippling, the power of Ra rolling off of him in waves – of course I’d do this on solstice eve – of course.

  “Yes well, I am an idiot; but not for this.”

  “Then what?”

  “For not fighting sooner,” I smile up at him, sure he doesn’t understand. But again something shifts in his eyes.

  “Often we wait too long to fight for the things that matter.”

  “He told you?” I whisper.

  “He did not have to, the heartsickness in the both of you shows.”

  I sigh, “I’ll make him listen – sometimes you have to talk in a language the other person understands.”

  “Oh aye, but you are still an idiot – this was the absolute worse night for you to challenge the son of Ra.”

  I huff, “God looks out for fools and babes.”

  “Oh aye, which god is that?”

  I open my mouth and close it, suddenly not remembering which one… “Jaevia says it a lot.”

  He huffs, “I hope this god answers you, Capaneus; because even a babe would not have been this much of a fool.” He bows and steps back, done with tying the claws on both of my hands.

  I nod my head in thanks and stand, taking a deep breath. I flex my hands around the bindings. They’re tight but not overly so. He did a good job.

  Another man steps into the center of the sand pit. “Winner goes to last one who can stand.”

  If the lion’s den was crowded before – it’s a madhouse now. A massive cheer erupts, and Lucien moves to the center of the pit.

  The… referee? For lack of a better word, moves out of the way. That’s it, no rules of conduct, no outs or fouls, just who can take more of the beating and keep going. The one thing I’ve always been good at is taking a beating, but tonight… tonight I mean to be the one giving it and making Lucien mine by right and by might – tonight Capaneus claims his man.

  We start off slowly, circling one another…. It’s harder than I thought to keep balance in the sand. It’s not packed down. This is about more
than strength; this will also be about balance and speed. I may have a chance… a slim one, but a chance.

  He’s tied back his locs, leaving his features bare and covered in a grimace, he’s baring his teeth at me, his eyes studying me like a beast to hunt.

  I can feel his anger, and his satisfaction, he wants to fight, he needs to fight. And I’m the person in the world he wants to fight the most.

  My right foot sinks in the sand as I shift my weight throwing me just a bit off balance, he springs forward… he was waiting for me to make a mistake.

  But it wasn’t a mistake, I let my right leg take my weight and spin quickly on the ball of my foot, his body comes within inches of my own, his momentum still carrying him in the direction he thought I’d be in. I take my opening, slashing him across his back quickly.

  He roars with rage and pain as I slide back in the sand and bringing up my guard again.

  As Jaevia says, I’m a graceful beast.

  But Lucien isn’t stupid.

  He doesn’t fall for that move again, he brings the fight in close, it takes all of my energy just to bat his claws away, slapping his forearms away when those deadly blades come within an inch of slicing my chest of face wide open – he is not holding back. Without distance between us, my more graceful style of fighting is lost. I can’t move my body the way I wish.

  My feet slide in the sand as I move backwards, but I’m out of room… if he gets me up against the pit wall – I’m done. I have to take the chance, and so I do… he reaches out to slash me and I spin again to try and move back into open ground.

  The burning pain of my shoulder being cut open makes me grit my teeth… I accept the pain; I deserve this pain – not because I’m a slave – but because I forgot that I was a king.

  The crowd roars with cheers, their Raja has bloodied the naughty slave.

  He looks at me smiling, my blood on his claws dripping down to the golden sand, “give up and I won’t punish you too badly.”

  “I’ll never give up,” because you don’t know what I’m fighting for… but you will.

  “Have it your way… Bloodsucker,” he sneers and lunges forward, taking a swipe at my midsection, I jump back and do a perfect backflip, he slashes my thigh, but it’s a shallow cut… the crowd goes wild as I run forward yelling… he wasn’t expecting it and steps back, raising his claws in defense as he loses his footing in the sand. I jump and wrap my legs around his middle, grabbing his wrists and grappling him. I use my moment, and his bad footing to swing us both to the side, I use my right leg to keep his leg from turning right and he stumbles… that’s all I need as I let gravity take care of the rest and we fall to the sand.

  We roll and he ends up on top – not good for me, but this is what I want… his body on mine, my heart beating for him… he has to remember – he has to.

  He and ye and she – above all others.

  He grips my wrists tightly, crushing the bone, on the verge of shattering them completely. His legs grip my waist firmly, his weight pressed down on me.

  From my soul to your blood and my body to your spirit – bound in time yet without form.

  I watch his lips curl back from his teeth as a low growl rumbles from his chest. Logic demands fear, it demands that I fear this man. But love is not logical, it is by very definition illogical. The heart wants what it simply wants. And I want Lucien Hari Ramzia as my husband.

  You are the peace that I needed.

  “I will fight for you!” I scream into his beastly face of rage with no fear.

  “Every minute, of every day, of every week and year… until I take my dying breath, I will fight for you.” I promise him with all of my fucking heart.

  He blinks slowly, seeming confused. His weight shifts from his left and gives me an opening. I bring up my right foot, placing it in the sand… digging it in as I push, god help me I push. I give it all that I have, and some that I do not. I feel the tendons of my muscles spasm as I roll him over, screaming in pain and determination.

  “I will not give up!” I cry out as I gain the upper position. The lion’s den falls completely silent.

  He’s still gripping my wrists and I bear down on them to hold him down. But his body relaxes beneath mine.

  “That’s all you wanted. You didn’t care if…” I inhale as the floodgates open… “you didn’t care if I couldn’t win the fight every day, all you wanted is to know that I would fight. I couldn’t see that you loved that broken man trapped in the obsidian prism and all you wanted was to fight with him, side by side. Fight the pain, fight the self-doubt, fight the memories and the hurt, fight the things that kept me from giving you my heart. You knew I wouldn’t always win, but it wouldn’t matter, as long as I never… never gave up on us.”

  His features become a haze in the tears.

  “Oh god, Lucien, I promise to fight every day, win, lose or draw, I will fight for you… for myself, for the man I wanted to be – every day. Please… please don’t give up on me. Goddess help me, I need another chance. I love you.”

  I collapse on him, letting his arms go, completely spent, emotionally, physically, spiritually – I’ve given him all I had to give. But I know, even if he turns away from me today – tomorrow I will fight again for him, every day I will fight for him.

  “I cannot bear it Lucien, I cannot bear it… let me show you I can fight, let me show you how much you mean to me… please, I need another chance… oh please my goddess, Isis please hear me, Ra hear me.”

  The feel of his arms coming around to grip me loosely breaks my heart.

  “Okay,” he says simply.

  Push up to look down at him. “Okay?” I whisper in shock my vision still a haze with unshed tears of love and frustration that I still don’t think my words were right… it is hard for a man to explain his heart.

  He nods, “Aye, okay… you may have another chance.”

  After all, I’ve just done… all I get is okay? No professions of love, or words of commitment to me? Just… okay?

  Then he grins, that way he does when he knows he’s pissing me off but doesn’t give a shit – because he’s Lucien.

  He turns his head searching for someone, “I forfeit!” He yells towards the pit guardian… “I forfeit… Capaneus, has won.”

  The hall is completely silent as we get to our feet and our claws are removed. I’m guessing not too many bouts end with the Raja forfeiting and declaring the guy that was just getting his ass kicked the winner.

  But when he takes my hand in his and holds it up, declaring me victor of the bout and his heart, the hall erupts with cheers, shaking the building. He beams with pride as he shows me off. Now they understand why he chose me… everyone wants someone that will fight for their love – even if the enemy you’re fighting comes from within.

  Lucien drags me back up to the table area, people want us to stay, Nassor most of all; but Lucien just smiles and keeps moving, ignoring them all.

  “Enjoy the night, but my husband means to claim his prize,” he proclaims loudly, grinning from ear to ear, a certain swagger in his steps. God, I feel that rush of embarrassment, even still, even now. But this time I just squeeze his hand a little tighter and bear the discomfort with grace. Because this time it is more important for Lucien to feel claimed than it is for me to wallow in feelings of inadequacy.

  His body is healed from the damage of our fight before we make it to the hallway. I am, however, in horrible fucking shape. The shoulder where he slashed me burns with ferocity, my thigh isn’t fairing much better. My muscles are aching, my body bruised and battered… yet none of that matters, I went to war and I won the only thing that mattered – Lucien.

  After we’re out of the limelight, I let my shoulders slump and my face break down in pain.

  “I can carry you, if you’d like,” his voice holding a bit of laughter.

  I straighten my back and keep walking, “I’d rather crawl.”

  His booming laugh echoes through the halls. God he’s an asshole, bu
t I wouldn’t change a thing about him. How in all of the heavens did I fall in love with a man like him?

  114

  Jack – Meets Saabir

  We make it back to our rooms, my pride being the only thing keeping me on my feet at this point. I’ve lost a lot of blood and I’m fucking hurt and I miss my fucking powers! Yet for some reason I don’t feel less than. I’m not sure what changed but I don’t feel resentful as Lucien gets me to one of the large chaises in the bedroom and helps me ease down. Instead, I’m just thankful for the help.

  I groan low as I settle back on the sofa.

  “You need to feed.” He rumbles low.

  “No,” I grunt as I try to readjust myself and take some pressure off of my shoulder.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I want to keep these scars… as a reminder.”

  He raises an eyebrow, “Of me kicking your ass?”

  I huff, “I won, if you don’t remember.”

  He smiles and kneels at my feet nodding, “Aye, Bloodsucker, you won.”

  We both know he let me flip him over, we both know he forfeited. We both know he let me win – we both know he’s not the kind of man you conquer, he’s the kind of man that gives you his heart – you just have to be strong enough to claim it.

  He begins untying my boots, “If you will not use magic to heal, you are going to need stitches.”

  “Oh, what fun,” I dry pan as he slips off my boots.

  “Have we finally found a kink you’re not into? I would’ve thought you liked needle play.”

  I laugh as I look down at him, “I don’t know, maybe I’ll like it with you.”

  He huffs and stands, “You’re as bad as the Wench.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugs as he turns away and goes to the table with the alcohol. “You make my loins stir with things I never thought to desire.”