Sacrifice

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Her nails sink into my neck next, holding me in place.

  Eyes light up with that violet, unholy glow, she gets in my face again . . . and proceeds to start bouncing that ass as she rides me with perfect expertise. “Shut the fuck up, God of Power. You can take it. Give me more.”

  Ah, fuck. I love you. Even with half my brain blown, another orgasm steadily building in the pit of me, I’m not stupid enough to voice that aloud.

  Dying between her legs is the hope, I’ll admit, but not today. Need to stay alive to have this as many times as I can before she finishes me off.

  She presses her lips together, trying to curb her moans.

  My stubborn nymph. If this helmet wasn‘t in the way, I’d have my tongue in her mouth to the beat of my thrusting dick in her cunt. She can try to keep her distance all she wants, it’s pointless.

  I circle my hands around to her ass, cupping a jiggling cheek in each one. “Stare into my eyes while you come for me. I dare you.”

  “What would . . . shit. What would that a-accomplish?”

  “Give me that. Prove it means nothing and let me stare into those pretty eyes while I give you my next load.”

  Meg rises until it’s just my tip in her, then proceeds to fuck herself with it, teasing me even more. “You‘re going to give it to me anyway.”

  She isn’t lying about that.

  Groaning, I tighten every muscle as I try to hold it back. A weird trickle flows across my skin, an almost familiar sensation.

  It is. One I haven’t felt since becoming a god.

  Gods don’t share the same bodily functions as mortals. Not all of them, anyway. Sweating is one of them. As moisture gathers along my brow and begins dripping down the sides of my face, another layer of razor sharp panic is added to this entire experience.

  I’m sweating.

  I’m inside this female, feeding her, and even as I do it, her effect on me continues to fucking grow.

  How much you want to bet it’s not just regular sweat, but the infamous blood sweat that afflicts the poor, unfortunate victims of their kind?

  Megara notices it, too, and loses her concentration at the sight of it. Whimpering, she slides back down my length, twitching. Pupils dilating further. A haunted lust floods her expression.

  The beat of our hearts echo in my ears, growing stronger with each thrust.

  Encircling her neck with my hand, I lick my lips beneath the mask, running my thumb up her pounding pulse.

  For her part, Megara jerks my head to the side, losing any semblance of control she was going for. While riding me hard enough to break a mortal male, she lowers her lips to my throat. “Why does this look so good to me right now?” Her tongue runs up the length of my artery.

  The sound that leaves me is almost humiliating. I arch beneath her, eyes lost to the back of my head. Thumb rubbing up and down her own artery, mind soaking in that heartbeat as if . . . as if . . .

  “Gods, I’m about to come all over your cock, Kles.” She purrs again, the vibration leaking from her chest and into my own, making goosebumps break out on my slick skin. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to drench you as I take more from you?”

  “Yes, baby, yes. Fucking do it,” I pant, sounding lost.

  Because I am.

  There’s no logical understanding of what’s happening.

  “Fuck.” Mewling in that way that I remember, the same that I’ve spent eons replaying in my darkest hours without her, she runs her nose along my artery—

  Her blunt, little teeth sink into it, not hard enough to break skin but definitely with enough force to hurt.

  I shout at the top of my lungs as I drain into her, my mind spinning at this nearly vampiric desire that’s gripped us both.

  Megara screams into my neck, biting harder, and her entire body clenches as she begins to come.

  She doesn’t release her bite until the last ripples tear through her.

  I’ve wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight, jerking in the aftermath.

  We go limp, intertwined with each other, and I’m almost too far gone to notice the lightening of the helmet around my head. How it slowly dematerializes into energy before dissipating entirely.

  I can kiss her now, is my first thought as the breeze hits my bared face.

  And I go to do just that. Fisting her slightly drying, auburn hair, I lift her away from my neck and turn to seek her lips out—

  True to form, she’s out of my arms faster than sand leaking through my fingers.

  Would love to say that my dick deflates with sadness, but she ends up back near the shore, bent in front of the water. Is she oblivious to how that leaves her ass and drenched pussy on display for me? Or is she too distraught to notice?

  By the way her shoulders shake as she bends over the water, I’m guessing it’s the latter.

  Great. This female just blew my mind. I was finally inside her after millennia of fantasizing about having her again.

  And she’s fucking heartbroken about it.

  Everything is so gods damned messed up between us.

  MEGARA

  My reflection stares back at me from the semi-calm water, barely visible due to its clarity.

  If I had to guess, I’d say we’re somewhere in the Caribbean. Water that color is only found in certain places of this world.

  What the fuck does it matter? the lost, ravished female in the water asks.

  Just as fast, the reflection seems to morph, becoming the very picture of satisfaction. We got what we wanted. That’s what matters.

  Perhaps I’m hallucinating, too much immortal jizz on the brain and all that, but I’m pretty sure that was a manifestation of that new voice inside me.

  My previous conversation with Kles about his double godhood, the one that somehow ended with me riding his brains out, comes back to me.

  With it, a chilling premonition.

  “Megara?”

  “There’s something in me and it’s talking to me,” I say on a rush.

  He’s silent for a bit. “I . . . I know. Madness and Power have sensed its presence.”

  So that’s why he was there, urging me to tap into it, insisting I could do things I didn’t even know I was capable of. “Do you know what it is?” I ask, staring back at him. His helmet vanished after his second orgasm; a reminder that he had the nerve to try and kiss me.

  As if we’re still intimate like that.

  He was deeper in you than you want to admit. That intimacy ship has sailed, girl.

  “No. But it’s powerful. Insanely so,” he admits solemnly. “And when I was under, healing from Hydra’s dream, I had a dream. One of those dreams.”

  The kind caused by deterioration due to a nymph’s pull. Half-hallucinations, half-messages from a being’s subconscious, they’ve been known to serve as premonitions. As infamous as the Oracle at Delphi once was. “What did you see in the dream?”

  “A lot of crazy shit, obviously, but when it comes to you? You were like some kind of empress in a room, overseeing the wants of an entire universe. And I kept being told I have to figure out what’s inside me—which we now know—but also . . . what’s inside you.”

  I fingers sink into the sand beneath me as I search for something to hold onto. “You said it’s powerful. As the God of Power, have you sensed anything like it before?”

  A drying, blonde and ginger curl falls over his blue eyes, and he stares at me with trepidation.

  Which is how a male stares at a female he’s about to impart life-changing news to.

  “Yeah, Meg. I have.”

  I swallow to clear my dry throat. “When?”

  “Whenever I’ve encountered my own kind.”

  Gods. Or, in my case . . . “I can’t be a—a—”

  “A goddess, Meg? But I think you are. I really do.”

  I whirl away from him at that, leaning over the water again, only to see my gloating reflection staring back. What does it matter? it asks me. When you’ve already weathered so ma
ny changes and won? Or have you forgotten what we are?

  Just who the hell are you? I wonder.

  That smirk grows larger, eyebrow arching higher. A fucking empress. Ruler. Take your pick.

  Of who?

  Please, succubus. You know what you control. What we control.

  As I’m lost in my unhealthy internal struggle, the wind picks up around me, tugging me backward.

  Like when we were dragged here.

  It picks up strength, becoming impossible to ignore, but it isn’t until Kles speaks that I realize it’s freaking happening again.

  “Meg? We’re about to get moved against our will.”

  No chance to respond to him. The suction is undeniable, yanking us right off the shore of that island.

  I only have a split second to materialize a pair of pants.

  Then we’re transported once more.

  HERAKLES

  I land amid a copse of Japanese cherry blossom trees, city lights sparkling above my head.

  Separated from Megara.

  Where is she?

  Humans. Everywhere. That warning from Power is both welcome and concerning.

  It remains, even while Madness continues to gain a foothold.

  But, shit. Humans? Where the fuck am I?

  The structure and sign with its Japanese letters up ahead answers my question.

  The sign reads “THE SIRENS DEN”, and I feel my shoulders tense.

  That isn’t glaringly obvious. Not at all.

  Humans! I’m reminded, by two voices this go-around, not just Power.

  Knowing what awaits inside that restaurant, I cover myself with a shield and will my armor to return to me.

  Failure.

  Of course.

  Somehow, these beings were given weapons I cannot even begin to understand. How does that polluted energy they keep sending to destroy our minds work, exactly? How do they steal our ability to flash? Keep us from summoning our weapons and armor?

  Questions that might never be answered.

  Not that I give a damn at this moment. Where the fuck is Meg? I change into regular clothes and am surprised to see a pair of dress slacks and form-fitting button down shirt appearing on my body.

  What in the . . .

  Jesus Christ, to borrow a term from the humans. This next opponent has the power to control what I change into, too?

  Considering who it is, I shouldn’t be surprised.

  The sweet, haunting strains of her voice glide through the air from within the two-story pagoda themed establishment.

  My original thought is that she’s somehow altering her tune so that only immortals can hear it.

  Until I see the waves of mortals—mostly male—making their happy way toward that already packed restaurant.

  Inside, happiness. Revelry. Food and drink flowing. Glasses clinking, laughter overflowing. Conversation rises in a raucous roar and it isn’t long before there’s a line of people waiting for their turn to her inside.

  Somehow, we’ve managed to hide our previous battles from mortal eyes.

  That’s not happening with this fight. Impossible.

  The humming rises in volume, one of the most melodic sounds ever created in existence. An auditory drug that’s lured millions of males to their doom.

  I’m enticed to follow it to its origin, but not by my male biology.

  It’s surprising. I recognize this siren’s song. Thelxiope. The most prolific killer and seductress of Achelous and Melpomene’s daughters.

  Yet, it’s really not. The female I’m suddenly anxious to find has a hell-forged stranglehold on my soul. I’d doubt I’d be able to get hard for a palace full of naked, writhing nymphs and sirens alike, let alone give into the demands of Thelxiope’s song.

  Either way, it’s not her enticement to come within that gets my feet moving. It’s the two voices in my mind, their whispers zeroed in on the same goal as I.

  We’ll find her within.

  Did Meg somehow land on the other side and has already snuck inside?

  Only one way to find out.

  I walk past the line waiting to get inside, hidden within the shield, and Thelxiope’s humming changes to a harmony of delight. My navy blue Ferragamo’s slap into the stairs as I make my way to the entrance—and, shit, what’s her plan? Get me all done up to just kill me?

  Correction: get me all done up, conquer me, do what she wants with me, and then kill me.

  It’s how these Sirens operate. Similar to Succubi, but ruled by a delirious need to dominate and undo all males, not a biological necessity that extract nourishment from the act of sex.

  She wishes to dominate the God of Power.

  No, shit.

  Thelxiope is in for a nasty surprise. This god’s already been owned to the point of immunity against her kind. Never heard of this happening in the past, yet as I step foot inside the restaurant, that hum growing even louder, it’s proven as a fact.

  I’m suddenly immune to the siren’s song.

  My entrance is like a ripple effect among the humans, whether I’m unseen thanks to the shield, or not. The hush that falls over the inhabitants is eerie. A crush of obedient, well trained robots, that’s what these mortals are. Their merriment dies out with a promptness that’s disturbing, glasses and eating utensils lowering. Laughter fading into blank nothingness.

  It’s not that they see me, or sense me, but how the siren alters her melody to command them to rise.

  These mortals don’t know I’m here, but she does.

  And still, that maddening question remains. Where the fuck is my Meg?

  In a single motion, the humans either stand to leave or swivel in a unified motion to begin making their hypnotized way out the door.

  Good little robots, indeed.

  Solves the problem of how to hide this battle from the mortals’ eyes, I supposed.

  Once the very last human shuffles out the door, I turn to see that the line of homo sapiens waiting to get inside is also gone. We’re somewhere in Tokyo, I recognize that by the bustling streets beyond the open, sliding doors, yet the sidewalk directly in front of the restaurant is now devoid of life.

  As she wanted it to be.

  Her tune switches yet again and I’m smart enough to admit that, if it wasn’t for Megara’s unnatural hold on me, even I, the God of Power, would be on his knees for this siren.

  It raises in pitch as she gets nearer and it isn’t hard to pinpoint what direction she’s coming from.

  Second floor mezzanine. Fast approaching the light wood railing.

  I flex my stained fingers at my sides, hearing them crack one by one.

  The light off her glasses precedes her—covering half her face and made of glass, streams of projected data fly across the surface; the source of that glow surrounding her head.

  Her brown hair falls down her shoulders, nearly to her knees. The half-smile on her face is that of a seasoned vixen used to getting her way. “I can see every bit of you thanks to these.” She first motions to the length of my body with her clawed index finger, then taps the same claw against her glasses. “Everything you now consist of, Madness.”

  Not everything, Power assures.

  What is she missing then?

  She walks along the floor, running her finger along the railing in a soft caress. I can barely see her incandescent, aqua and blue eyes, but there’s no mistaking the way her body moves. The intention beneath that grin.

  Thelxiope believes I’m already hers.

  She can’t see that my biology has been forever damaged by a female ten times more dangerous than she is.

  Speaking of said female . . .

  “I would love to know exactly what’s going on here.”

  Meg!

  I spin in a jerky motion, proving what a lovesick moron she’s turned me into, searching her out with the same yearning I felt upon first seeing her in my penthouse.

  Like that beach was centuries ago and I haven’t seen her since.

  She�
�s dressed to the nines herself, white heels, a sublime little white number that stops mid, thigh, and a tight leather jacket left open to show how great her tits look in that dress. A thick, silver necklace encircles her neck, reminiscent of the ancient Greek style. Her hair’s held up in a half-ponytail, wisps highlighting her face; another throwback to our past.

  Fuck yeah, I’m getting her fully naked next time I’m in her.

  Also getting those thighs on either side of my head.

  “You can’t be serious,” the siren grouses, staring Megara down with disdain.

  That’s nothing compared to the sour mien she’s sporting. “I figured I’d match since you decided to dress him like that.” She stops next to me, her hand sweeping up and down my form; her smaller claws are painted white and, shit, what an inconvenient time to remember those nails sinking into the side of my dick. “Now . . . what’s the purpose of this, exactly?”

  Her tone is near a whisper—a soft, deadly promise of tragedy, delivered with a stoic, curious gaze.

  I tense from head to toe, every male instinct on blast. Is she . . . no, she can’t be.

  I’m going to fuck her up against one of these walls, in front of this siren, if she is.

  “I think it would be obvious. Every meal should be prepared adequately, shouldn’t it?” Thelxiope sneers at Meg, convinced of her station.

  Confused, more like it. She thinks herself above my little nymph, one of Hades’ Erinyes, and a goddess in her own right, if our theory holds.

  Megara laughs, a dry, humorless sound. “That sounds like you’re trying to have him, Thelxiope.” That infamous eyebrow arches, her head tilting slightly. Violet irises sparkle, beginning to glow with an influx of energy. Of bloodthirst.

  “There’s rumors going around, Succubus, that you plan on destroying him anyway.”

  “You listen to me very carefully, Siren.” Meg steps forward, a heel clicking against the waxed, wood floor with the finality of a guillotine blade reaching its goal. “Whether I decide to kill him, or keep him, he belongs to me. Let me find out you’re trying to take what’s mine.”

  CHAPTER 20

  – Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

  HERAKLES