by L M Adams
Finally I break for him, accepting that I have no control, that he can use me as he sees fit. That he is master, and I am slave. I fall down into the earth so I can cry into the dirt, “Please forgive me.” I beg him. “I won’t leave your bed again, Master.”
“There we go,” he whispers gently… “there we go. Give it to me.”
He presses his chest into my back, the heat of him setting my flesh ablaze. His strong hand grabs my hip, his other hand laces our fingers together tightly as he begins grinding into me softly.
“You know what I want, baby.” He kisses my neck gently… right where his mark is.
I reach out for the Vayrá, I reach out to her sweet and deadly call and my body relaxes into the pain; into the giving, letting him into my core so he can fuck my soul as well as my body.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I whisper obediently.
“I am your first, your last, your only.”
“Yes,” I nod, falling into the lie we both need.
“Don’t ever keep what I own away from me again.”
“I won’t, I promise I won’t.”
“Don’t you see… I will burn the world down before I ever let you go. I will curse this world to hell just as my father did.”
As it was said – as it shall be. His people have enslaved my people since the beginning of time; why on earth would it be any different now?
This is our curse; this is our stigmata and we both deserve it, we the sons of Horus and Set.
Epilogue - 3
Lucien - Hell
“Harder!” I rage at the man with the whip with a broken voice. My eyes filled with tears.
It falls again over my scarred flesh, tearing at my skin and my stigmata. The blood flows down my back. He lets the whip fall again and again and again… still, it will never be enough.
I brace myself against the cold hard stone of the wall before me with one hand as I stroke my cock with the other. The beating doesn’t stop until I’ve produced… it takes so long to produce when I’m being beaten.
The metal spikes in the whip dig into my flesh, rendering sinew from bone. But I deserve this…
My mind is filled with the memory of my people and how I let them all perish. How I could save nothing but my own wretched life.
Capaneus wishes to leave me, Jaevia will as well… soon enough. I have to be able to let them go, I have to be able to submit to the heartache of it. I cannot be like my father. Capaneus and Jaevia deserve better than me.
He cried so much when I raped him last night and I enjoyed it all. How could I do that?! I make him say consent, but it is a lie! How could he want me?! How could he desire me?! The son of the man who enslaved his people! That is who I am.
“Harder!” I cry out.
He begged me for forgiveness as if all of this was not my sin! This is my sin! He should not have to pay for it.
My filthy passions to have him in those ways!
Sin!
My sickness I call love!
Sin!
The way he cries when I come!
Sin!
The marks upon their necks!
Sin!
“Harder!” I cry out and my sack tightens with pleasure as I think of how good it feels to be with them like that… how good the sin always feels. I spill into the bowl and fall forward to lean on the wall as I cry.
“Leave me,” I order the man with the whip.
A man should suffer in the hell he builds for himself, alone.
Like father, like son.
Epilogue - 4
Zahra – The Young Lion
For the joining of Amunet and Amun-Ra will give rise to the gods of old and foretell the coming of the darkness as the sun and evening-dawn kiss him upon his lips and call him their Lord of the Blood, and they will know him as Anubis.
I look up from a scroll of prophecy to view the long grass of Serengeti. The moon is heavy and round, filled with power and I feel the majic of Nuit move within my heart and the majic of Ishtar move within my womb.
“Or are you just hungry, little one?” I ask and rub my round belly as I lean back on the tree.
A’pay will come to hunt for me soon, I smile. He desires me now as much as he desired me then. From our love we received a blessing, a son, and a chance to begin again.
Already I feel the power of the gods move within him. It fills me with fear, there are to be no more gods here. The gatekeepers will not loose the spirits of the old, they have made it clear. Will they look upon my son with fear? Will they entrap him in the stones of time?
I need to know, I have consulted the echoes with the power of the seal, but still the picture is elusive to my eyes.
“Nuit, guide your daughter.” I pray and close my eyes, searching for wisdom from within.
“Hello,” A voice rings out. I jump with fear opening my eyes, I have heard no one approach and my guard has not alerted me to anyone.
I look up to the sight of a woman half of this world and half not. Her hair in locs, her flesh the color of those from the north, but her energy is much like my own… Isis with Ishtar trait.
“Sister,” She smiles and for some reason, I relax. “Do you feel the power?” She nods towards my belly.
I smile, “The blessing of Ra moves within him already.”
“And for that, he cannot stay here,” she whispers, her green eyes glowing with power and knowing… an aching of time is within her.
I sit up, “What shall become of my son?” For she must have been sent by Nuit to guide me.
She smiles, “He shall love a woman, not of these lands, or of these times and his heart will beat only for her for a long time.” She looks away, “But there is another he must love, for that love will be the only thing that stands between the evil of our sins and the hope of our future. Your son will be the morning light and you shall call him Lucien.”
Author Note
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About the Author
Lark Adams is the international bestselling, dark urban fantasy author of the Twisted Eventide series, first novel titled Snow Covered Moon. Born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, Lark graduated from Polytechnic Institute in 1999, she received two Associates degrees, one in computer aided drafting and another in mechanical engineering. But her true passion and love has always been for the written word.
