Sacrifice

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Kles’ took my breath away regardless. Of course it did. It was as gorgeous as the man it was attached to, surrounding by auburn hair a shade darker than the ginger-blonde gracing his head. Best of all? It’d been desperate for me, me, and somehow I convinced myself that it would be mine forever.

  His zipper lowers and it’s bare skin that greets me, proof of how much we’ve both changed.

  I lost all my body hair upon becoming immortal, too.

  The top of that hard erection tenting his dress pants comes into view and that’s it.

  That’s all it takes.

  The succubus in me roars into the driver’s seat, obliterating every other part of my identity. Eyes glued to that cock, I drop my hands to his bulging thighs and begin to lower to my knees.

  Kles cups the back of my neck again, leading me. “That’s it, baby. Get down there.” He reaches for his erection with his free hand.

  I slap it away, all but snarling at him, and rip those pants open until it bounces free, throbbing toward my mouth as if it knows what’s coming.

  As if it’s more than willing to be my sacrifice.

  Considering what I’m about to do to this dick, it might as well be.

  I wrap my fingers around it, squeezing with every bit of my strength on purpose, wanting to cause him pain. Instead, he slams back into the wall behind him, chest arching, artery in his neck swelling with his rampant pulse.

  His tip is soaked with precum, the scent of it a vile lure to my senses, tempting me to dive straight for the source of it.

  I smear that silky wetness over his tip with my thumb, yet my eyes are locked with the pulse in his neck, the one I can hear loud and clear thrumming in his chest.

  Biting into his lower lip, he tightens his hold on my nape. “Get your mouth around it, succubus, since you’re so determined to make me come already.”

  Bastard.

  Sexy, delicious, infuriating, rank bastard.

  I despise anyone calling me by my species, have since I became this nightmare creature, but my inner thighs are sticky with my own arousal from hearing that split, demonic voice saying it.

  Growling in my throat, I somehow tear my stare from his heartbeat—why is it so fascinating to me all of a sudden?—and take the motherfucker into my throat in a single swallow.

  No preparing him. No warning. Just straight past my gag reflex in one shot.

  He wants the succubus in me? He’s about to fucking get it.

  That first hit of his taste slams into every cell, infusing me with energy.

  His strength.

  That sheer power of owning a being such as him through this act alone.

  Not that he lets me bask in it for long.

  Expression savage, he looks down at me, both hands around the back of my head now, one of them wrapping around my messy pony tail . . .

  “Feed hard, Meg. You’re about to get so much of it.” And he holds me in place while he starts fucking my mouth, hips thrusting, manhandling my head up and down in whatever way he sees fit.

  I’m instantly choking, eyes watering.

  Claws digging into his thighs.

  Pussy aching like it’s never ached before.

  I cry out around his dick, feeling it hit the back of my throat again.

  That’s when he starts talking, really talking, each word huskier, deeper, punctuated by his horny moans as he swells to bursting in my mouth. “No mouth ever compared to this one. The fucking best. Almost as good as those tight little holes. Remember how I took all of them, baby? How I filled you in each one? Gods, even back then you milked me like you needed it to live. So . . . fuck . . . hungry . . . shit, Meg, you’re eyes are lit up. Look at you. And you think you’ll get this from anyone else from now on?”

  I’m moaning almost as loud as he is at this point, thighs pressed together, limp to his animalistic face-fucking. Tears have drenched my cheeks, but I can’t tell how much of it is from him penetrating my gag-reflex, or the fact that I’m about to come from just rubbing my thighs together as he works me.

  He tenses beneath me, right on that edge, every muscle quaking as he tries to hold back.

  Pointless. He’s immortal now. Even as a demigod, he was able to keep going once he came.

  No fucking way is he denying this to me now.

  I let out another growl, feeling it vibrate down his pounding length, and tear at his pants once more. His balls are full, tight, as gorgeous as I remember them; spent hours licking them, loving on them. I wrap a hand around them, showing no mercy, my grip making my expectations obvious.

  He’s going to come down the back of my throat and give me what he promised me.

  Or I’ll simply take it from him.

  Kles moans nonsensically, fractured eyes rolling back—

  Forget explosion; it’s a straight flood overwhelming my split-wide mouth, his dick twitching as if he hasn’t come in ages.

  I can’t take this anymore. I can’t. His taste, his scent, how he looks convulsing under me.

  How he freaking sounds.

  I press my thighs together tightly, hips rocking, and explode right along with him. Shame trickles along my flesh in a hot wave—not that it stops my orgasm, or how I suck for more of his seed, even as so much of it leaks out of my mouth.

  It isn’t until the last wave of that orgasm recedes that I realize what I’m doing.

  That I realize what he’s up to.

  Shivering beneath me, Kles tries to move me off his dick. His hands are sliding down my back, wrapping around me, and he tugs as if trying to force me to mount him.

  His words confirm it. “Get up here, baby. You’re getting this next one even deeper in your pussy.”

  He already shifted everything. I can hear the realignment of my beliefs. Can guess where this will lead if I don’t put a stop to it immediately.

  I won’t let it lead back to that. I won’t.

  Tearing myself away from his dick, I practically fly across the cavern. Taking a mouthful of the God of Power’s cum apparently has more benefits than usual for my nymph half; the infusion of strength is multiplied, ages-old fortitude sparkling off each nerve.

  I ram into the wall with enough force to set off the human Richter scale and it doesn’t phase me one bit. Not even as most of that wall rains down around me in huge chunks.

  “Megara!” Kles begins rushing toward me, completely unabashed with that glistening erection pointing directly at my face.

  “No. Stop. Enough. You’ve fed me.” I drag the back of my hand across my swollen, drenched lips. “You got what you wanted.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not done with you anymore than you’re done with me.” He stops, but only to rip the button down off.

  The extent of his “mutation” is on display for the first time.

  Black scars, like tribal tattoos, curving along his sides. No doubt around his back. The spiky end of one is cutting along his shoulder, stopping near his collarbone.

  The Greek pantheon’s golden boy in his vulgar desecration, changed into something that’s near unrecognizable.

  Especially with those fractured, unnatural eyes.

  His physique and features are made even more beautiful by the alterations, like seeing a monster peeking from beneath a glorious painting.

  I don’t think I’ve ever hated him more. “I am done with you. I’ve been done with you from the moment you were done with me”—yeah? Then why did you hunt him for over two-thousand years?—“Remember? You walked away. You. You don’t just get to walk back into my life and claim ownership!”

  “Dear gods, female. I get it.” His pants and shoes are gone next.

  More tattoo-like markings along those muscular thighs . . .

  No shame, I tell you. This male never had shame! Why should he? He’s art. A masterpiece we should rub all over. Drench every inch of him.

  Ride his face until he’s covered in it.

  Oh. My. Fucking. Gods. Someone get this bloody Succubus instinct out of me!
<
br />   “You won’t ever forgive me. I don’t expect you to,” he continues, throwing the clothing he just took off across the cavern.

  “You shouldn’t. Because if I had been the one to do it to you, Great One, you wouldn’t have forgiven my betrayal that easily!” The bitter truth.

  “Now wait. That’s not necessarily true—”

  I flash to my feet, changing into my armor and divesting myself of this stupid, skimpy outfit that I should’ve never changed into in the first place. Like, seriously. What the heck was I thinking? That you wanted to get at his dick? That you wanted him raving mad for a taste of your pussy?

  I hate that nymphomaniac sex fiend inside me.

  “You wouldn’t have, Herakles. You have never been that forgiving. Just ask your godly family. You left them to rot when the older gods came and razed through Olympus.” No one knows who these “older gods” were exactly, at least no one that’ll speak their names, and yes, they had it coming, but he did it nonetheless. “When you decided, for whatever reason, they no longer deserved you in their lives, you abandoned them to their fates. That brother you swear you don’t love is in that cell partially because of you.”

  Kles must have some level of common sense; huffing out an exasperated he wills on his own armor. “I left them because of you. You.”

  “Bull. Shit.” I turn away.

  “One day, before you take my fucking head, I’m going to prove it to you. And until then, you’re mistaken if you think this is over. You can kill me when this is done, but not before I fill every hole on your body, Nymph.”

  Vulgar motherfucker.

  Not that I’m any better.

  “Hades!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “You got what you wanted! I sucked your nephew’s dick! Now let us the fuck out of here already so I can go freaking kill something!”

  HERAKLES

  “You covered us in a shield again, didn’t you?” I watch Meg pause in her pacing on the Sempiternal Road and she proceeds to bang her fist against the ebony wall, screaming for Hades to let her open the door.

  In a hurry to proceed to the next step of our quest so that she can be finished with me that much sooner.

  After gagging on so much of my cum she couldn’t even swallow it fast enough.

  And she tried.

  Holy hell, did she fucking try.

  “Yes I did,” the god she’s searching for says, unperturbed by his assassin’s growing wrath.

  “What are these shields called?” Surely they must have an actual name.

  “It’s an ancient language, from long before your time. One you’ll eventually learn . . . if miracles do turn out to be real.”

  “Are you saying there’s a chance I survive what’s ahead?”

  His eyebrows rise and he gives me this half-nod, half-shake of his head. “Eh . . . I said if miracles do exist. The animosity runs deep in that one.”

  I’ve noticed. “I had a dream about you while I was healing.”

  “That isn’t weird,” he mumbles. “At all.”

  The Lord of the Underworld possess a dry sense of humor. Something I would’ve never guessed prior to returning here and being set on this course. “Those two statues in the passageway to the throne room. The ones that look like you.”

  “What about them?”

  It was stupid of me to believe he wouldn’t play the vague-game. Probably even dumber of me to push forward and try, but . . . “I want to say the one with the horns and wings is a representation of you as the Judeo-Christian devil, but that statue was here when I came two-in-a-half millennia ago. Those religions hadn’t caught on worldwide, yet. I suspect it’s been here much longer.” Perhaps even prior to the birth of Judaism.

  “And?”

  “Who are they representing? And why do they look like twins of you?”

  “You have bigger things to worry about, boy.” He half turns to poke my stomach above my armor. “Namely, that hunger you felt in that dream. It’ll be back, and you must be prepared.”

  “The hunger . . . what the fuck was that? It was almost . . .” I’m at a loss for words how to describe it, perturbed by my fascination with her blood.

  “Vampiric?” Hades supplies nonchalantly.

  My gut drops with sick dread. “Yeah . . .”

  “You’re a babe when it comes to the knowledge of our world. Some of that is your fault for isolating yourself to such an extent, yet the other half was always beyond your control. Lies were spun, Kles, long before you were born.”

  So similar to what that disembodied female voice said in the dream. “The lies spread farther that you could ever imagine, young one. I watched them spin the tale, as I watch everything else . . .” I shake off the memory. “You do realize none of this is making any sense right?”

  “Of course. And, for now, that is by design. As for that hunger, one thing you do know is that there’s many drugs to beings of our kind. As well as many enslavements. Bonds, connections, the like.”

  “So you’re saying I’m going to . . . what am I going to become? A vampire hungering for her blood?”

  “It’s a common misconception that only their ilk can be owned by such a thirst.”

  “So it has to do with her succubus pull on me?”

  “That’s another beast entirely.”

  “Damn it, Hades! You’re talking as if the dream I had is somehow real instead of a side effect.”

  “It’s both, boy. Both. That’s what their effect does. The dreams are feverish, yes, but they’re based on facts deep in your subconscious. That pull reaches into the fibers of a being’s brain and rips out every tidbit of information held there. There are things you know that you aren’t even aware you know, yet. You’ve been searching for answers so long that you possess more knowledge than what you’re aware of.”

  He does have a point. On my quest to find some clue of where Meg’s soul ended up, I stumbled upon too much. Suspicious stories. Tales that made me question what I thought I’d known as a mortal.

  I might not know the true story of the gods, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that most of what we were told was a crockpot of bullshit lies. “Let’s stick to her blood”--because I have a feeling that unraveling everything else will take way more time than we currently have--“What is that about?”

  “Connection, Kles. One of the most vicious ones there is. You will understand once you unravel who you really are and how that ties into who my assassin truly is. That’s the first key of the puzzle. Nothing else is meant to make sense until you figure that one out.”

  “Too many questions. Too many answers. And before you can know that one, you first must find out: what’s inside you? What’s inside her? What part are you both meant to play?”

  “Your connection to her goes deeper than you imagine. Far removed from simple love. Once you figure that out, everything else will fall into place.”

  My fucking head hurts.

  To make matters worse, the object of our conversation materializes in front of the shield. Her auburn hair falls in a disarray around her black-armored shoulders, strands dangling in front of her incensed purple eyes.

  Meg slams a fist right into the shield—shit, she’s caught onto us. A fact that’s proven when she points at me, scowling even harder. “He’s in there, isn’t he?”

  Shit. Definitely onto us.

  “Good luck with that,” Hades says, jerking his head toward her. “Has to be the first succubus in history this angry after being fed.”

  Because she fed off me.

  He leaves, taking the shield along with him. As it dissolves, Megara crosses her arms. “What the fuck are you two plotting behind my back?”

  “To be fair, Hades is plotting on his own and even I don’t understand what it is that he wants.” Hey. It’s the honest to gods truth.

  “You’re done meeting with him without me around. Understand? If we have to team up for the rest of this disaster, I refuse to do it while you’re busy exchanging information without my kn
owledge.” She spins on her heel and heads to the sliver of light finally showing within the road. “And he finally just sent me our next location, so let’s get this freaking over it.”

  Talk about exchanging information with the God of the Underworld without my knowledge.

  Although, I’m not stupid enough to bring that up. Trust me, I’m not.

  CHAPTER 15

  – Ancoats, Manchester, United Kingdom

  MEGARA

  They’re scheming when I’m not watching.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. Peas in a biological pod. At the end of the day, two of a kind. Neither one of them worthy of an ounce of my trust.

  I never fully believed in Hades, more like we had a peaceful agreement to get along as I killed whatever he aimed me at, yet my nerves are on fire with indignation.

  What? Is he giving his nephew pointers how to get me on my knees more often? What could he possibly have to gain from bringing this about between Kles and I?

  The male following me through this portal has the answer.

  I’m too incensed to ask him outright. Not now, at least.

  We arrive on a walkway facing a body of water. Behind us, a complex of industrial revolution era mills sit silent in the night.

  I switch out of my armor and into another pair of dark jeans, boots, and a thin, dark trench coat. Kles approaches, scanning the mills with his gaze, and he’s switched into regular clothes as well. Graphite long-sleeved, tactical pants in the same color. Those laced-up combat boots that somehow make his fucking feet look sexier than the rest of him.

  I still want him.

  Want him to make good on his oath to fill every hole.

  And I called him the vulgar one?

  Disgusted with myself, I drag my eyes back to his face. “What are you seeing?”

  His pupils enlarge and in the night lights, it seems as if the specks of gold within his black markings begin to shine like glitter. “They are one, now. Male.”

  Scylla and Charybdis. Two monsters of very differing origins and natures, both once working together to kill thousands of Greek sailors and heroes alike. Thus, their names became synonymous with a saying equivalent to today’s modern “between a rock and a hard place.”