by S J Doran
Ziva looked down at him, her eyes shone with confusion to match his own. Kill him or kiss him?
“I…” her voice broke. “I don’t know?”
“I need to bring him home. He’s… not right in his head right now…” Jez crouched down beside Az, both of them glaring.
“Leave her… only doing as I asked.” He couldn’t support his head any more, Az grabbed the back of it, giving him a shake when his eyes started to close.
“Get him back to the Nessus.” Jez said, his tone no less than a command. “And you’d best let Amara go back with him if you want him to heal.” He stood up, looked down at Azadiel and rubbed his chest. “Because he really doesn’t want to.”
“Is she really here?” Cass mumbled, his words coming out a mess.
“Come on Z, before temper gets the best of the Warlock Queen,” Jez said as he led her away.
“Cass-” Azadiel began, he didn’t want to hear it, he wanted to see her. Mara. Forgive me.
“Don’t...” He wasn’t sure if he spoke out loud before he lost consciousness completely.
Three simple words
Her lips trailed along the cut marring his shoulder, the skin angry and rough beneath lingering kisses. It was only after his muscles relaxed beneath her caress that she eased back to finish tending the wound, quickly applying the last of the healing balm before her demon could think to protest again. In all fairness, the concoction did smell awfully pungent.
Purposely ignoring his baleful glare, she dressed the laceration with a clean bandage, reassured it was healing quickly now that he was regaining strength.
For two whole days Cassius had remained unconscious, his body weak, his mind delirious as celestial energy continued to try to purify his essence. Ziva’s sword had been imbued with celestial power, corroding his own infernal source. Only through the efforts of the mad monk Rasputin, and the Nessus’s continuous infusion of infernal energy had Cassius woken.
It had frightened her.
On the hour, they would get word from Azadiel. The disappearance of the Prince of Pleasures, Basileus and his sister Leira, along with the imprisonment of Archduchess Glasya having caused quite the uproar amongst the nobles of the demonarchy. Alas, that wasn’t all.
Her own Dominae were holding audience daily throughout the nine dominions of Asurim, trying to calm growing unease amongst the warlock and gargoyle factions when first rumors of their engagement, then tales of her demise began to circulate across the realm. Whispers of an unholy union, prophesied to bring forth the end of times.
“Stop scowling,” she whispered into his hair. “You’re still injured.”
“Only if you promise to never leave me.” His voice was no more than a rasp, yet it couldn’t hide the heavy note of relief in his tone.
A hiccuping sob betrayed the relief she felt when she saw hellfire warming his amber eyes once more. “Never.”
She pressed her mouth to his, gently cradling his head as she whispered against his lips,“you selfish fool, what would have become of me had you died?”
“I deserve no less for having failed you.”
This time it was her turn to glare at him. “Four hundred years, Cass, and you’re still an idiot...”
He gave her a most complacent grin, one which transformed the broody demon king he was into the cheeky princeling he’d once been. “But I’m your idiot.”
The way he looked at her filled her chest with a warmth, spreading to her body and deeper still, where it slowly cauterized the bleeding wounds within her soul.
“You’ll marry me now, amata.”
“I already have, or did you forget again?”
He caught her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger when she gave a mocking pout.
“I remember a dungeon hall steeped in shadows so dark that I could barely see your face. Hurried vows exchanged with no witnesses to attest to them. We can do better.”
A brow arched, her gaze even when she drew him to her. “Demon, we nearly burned all of creation to ashes just days ago, I suspect our big wedding might fall a little short on well-wishing guests. There are those who call our union an unholy one.”
Prophecy aside, the warlock masters would never willingly bend the knee to a Sarrum who was demon born, not after the suffering Glasya and Asmodeus had wrought upon her people. In draining Asurim’s life force, the demonarchy had nearly driven them to extinction. Over a century had passed since Glasya was dethroned, but warlocks never forgot those who’d wronged them. And they never forgave.
The soft rumble of laughter reverberated through his chest. She tried her best to push him back down upon the mattress, he sat up instead, pulling her against him while brushing his cheek against hers, the soft scrape of stubble against her skin a reminder that her demon desperately needed a shave.
“Unholy suits us just fine...” He leaned back and kissed her forehead. “Pass me the pants I was wearing.”
Her brows drew together. “You’re leaving?” Her heart sped up. “You can’t get up.” She knew their private time together would come to an end, just, not yet.
“No — I have something for you.”
She rolled onto her back and reached over the side of the bed, tossing his pants over him with a scowl on her face. He wrapped his arm tighter and pulled her back to him, searching his pockets with his free hand.
He pulled out her ring and slid it on the ring finger of her right hand.
“This belongs here. Don’t take it off until I can put it on the proper finger.” He kissed each of her fingers, then turned her hand over to kiss his sigil on her palm. “My very soul is yours.”
She’d promise him anything, would give him everything she had to give if it meant he’d continue to hold her like this, as if she were a treasure. As if she were loved.
“Soon, Libbu shi.” My heart
There was much work to be done. First they would need to convince both Dominae and Demonarchy that their union would be a blessed event, not the heralding of their destruction. Next, their realms would need to be joined under one banner. This was sure to meet resistance from other realms who’d fear them raising an empire. And they would be. There were also a few more personal concerns to address.
“So what do you plan to do about the celestial Ziva? It’s my understanding that she can’t return to her perch in heaven.”
She’d not intended to ask, but the threat of the angelic maiden continued to unsettle. Not only because she’d planted a blessed sword in his neck, but also because of the way her fingers had trailed along his lips.
Ziva had wanted Cassius. And had it not been for Jez’Piel’s swift action, Amara would have set the lusty angel’s wings on fire for it. My demon, my lips.
“I could kill her still, it wouldn’t be a bother, really...”
His expression took a slightly more serious cast, even though she could clearly make out the glint of mischief within those pools of amber fire. She could drown in those eyes and never have need for air.
“I believe Jez may not be on board with you murdering his sister, no matter how much trouble she causes.”
She shrugged and pouted, “Oh well, it was worth a shot.” The plaintive gesture turned into a grin when his lips captured hers, placating her disgruntlement with an intoxicating kiss, breaking apart only after her lungs began to burn with the need for air. Her hot breaths brushed against his kiss-swollen lips, the sight of them beckoning for her to kiss him again.
“Cass, they’re going to keep coming for your head.”
His shaking hands cupped her face, his tongue running across her bottom lip. “They can try, Mara. Let them come. I will turn the world to fucking ash if they try to take you from me again.”
“Demon, you say the sweetest things...” she whispered on a breath as her mouth molded to his once more.
His fingers sank into the length of her hair as he pulled her tighter, her body pressing down on his until there was no room left for air between them.
�
��Enough celestial talk for now.”
No iron bars, no clothing, no barriers or bindings, no curses or danger. Just two beings, two bodies, two minds, and two hearts craving to become one at long last.
“Demon, we’re messing up your bandages.”
His answer came in the form of a dismissive grunt, the demon pointedly ignoring her as he reached for a lock of her hair and pulled it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“Hellebore? I remember sneaking in bars of Hellebore rose soap into your cell, I can still smell its scent lingering on you.”
With an uneasy shrug she relented and relaxed into him, Cass, cunning as ever, quickly making use of this advantage to pull her down onto the bed with him, settling her weight atop of his.
“Old habits die hard.” Truth be told she had never been able to give up the comfort of that scent.
As horrible as the dungeons had been, it had been home whenever he’d been with her. As such, the sweet scent of the Hellebore had always found its way into the soaps and perfumes she favored. She’d never been able to let him go, not even his scent.
His brows raised at her non-answer but said nothing at her evasion, the cocky grin curling the corners of those sensual lips revealing he’d already guessed the reason. She’d never been good at expressing her own feelings, mainly because she hardly ever understood them. But she knew for certain she loved him, and surely he knew this too?
“I will never again leave you, amata.”
“You better not, I don’t think I could bear the loss of you again.”
His thumb brushed along her bottom lip, for over one hundred years, that simple caress had served them as a kiss. Those iron bars always keeping them apart, but they had finally found a way.
“Never again.” Fingertips lingered against her lips as if to feel the words they exchanged, before sliding up her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes threatened to close as he cradled the back of her head, his thumb brushing along the rapidly beating pulse point at her neck, sending shivers of pleasure skittering along her skin.
“I want what they deprived us of Cass, I want you.”
“Yes, Mara.”
His breaths were growing as frantic as her own. His thumb coaxed her mouth open, her eyes opened to find him gazing down at her in awe. Before she could pull away his tongue invaded, his kiss severing the few remaining threads of sanity. With every languid lick and greedy suck, need escalated. She suckled his tongue and sighed in pleasure when he moaned.
She was being swept away in a tide of disbelief and euphoria. This happiness blooming inside of her far too precious, and much too frail.
“Cass?”
“Later.”
The heavy aroma of the lavender-infused bandages permeated her senses, reminding her of his injuries, the only thing capable or reigning in the desire flooding her body. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
With a lazy stretch of his body, he undulated, letting her know exactly how he felt about that notion. “I need to feed…”
Silence filled the space between them as he held her gaze, reading her expression as if it were one of his precious books. Her cheeks heated beneath his scrutiny, the beating of her heart too rapid, the rush of blood to her head, dizzying. He was going to feed, which meant…
“Breathe, assat shi.” His lips moved to brush along the curve of her ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive tip with a hushed laugh.
That small nip enough to send a shockwave rippling down her spine, forcing her into obedience as she instinctively released the breath she’d been holding. Those damned butterflies’ wings were fluttering chaotically within her belly. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding a punishing beat against her rib cage.
My Cassius. At any moment now was she going to wake now and discover this all a beautifully cruel dream? Not this time, this he’d truly come back for her. Just as he’d promised. Please, not this time.
“Mara?”
She blinked rapidly, still trying to come to terms with the barrage of emotions the moment carried within. Relief, fear, desires and insecurities, they were flooding her. Confusing her. Emboldening her.
“I love you, Cassius. I never stopped.”
Shock struck the moment the confession was spoken, her hand clapping to her mouth in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”
He spared her not a second, preventing her from taking back her words by crushing his mouth to hers. His kiss unforgiving, scorching away every hesitation, his mouth devouring her confession with the fervor of a sinner tasting salvation. Hungering for her.
Promises kept
He was surrounded with her scent, her arms cradling his head, clinging tightly. She was safe; she was here. He would never let her go again. He moved to wrap himself around her, groaning at the twinges of pain that shot through his body. He didn’t care.
Her hands were wrestling with the blankets around his waist so he shifted, moving back up to take her mouth once more, frantic with need. He kept the kiss slow and deep, lazily sucking, savoring. As though he hadn’t craved this for his entire existence. They had all the time in the world.
His fingers traced down the faint scars on her back and he pulled back to look at her, his chest heavy with emotions he was only just beginning to recall.
“They won’t hurt us again.” She tried to move his hand away, he stubbornly gripped harder.
“I remember when this happened.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, “Hells I was such a stupid kid. I should have done more.” His eyes stung, tears prickling.
“Cass, you saved me…” Her thumb trailed across his cheekbone, her lips brushing across the top of his head. “And we can’t go back. Don’t you think I wasn’t forever wishing I could have done more, to somehow protect you from his wrath?” Her fingers rubbed across his brow. The scar so faint you would never know the injury to have nearly cost him his vision. He’d been so young, and his father so very cruel.
A humorless chuff escaped him. “What could you have done? You’re the one who was locked away with no access to the resources I had.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I will never be that powerless again.” She caressed his cheek, ran her fingers into his hair. “The things they did to you…”
“I healed. Broken bones heal.” He kissed the tip of her nose, moved down so his lips hovered over hers. “I can never give you back all those years I’d forgotten about you.”
She frowned. “More than bones. You never did fully regain your full sight, Aza and I both have tirelessly protected that weakness. Jez’ Piel is beginning to suspect...”
His breath caught in his throat, memories flooding in with the force of a tsunami. “Right,” he managed to croak. “Lot of stuff makes sense knowing that. You hid that from me?” Irritation stung, leaving a lingering bitterness. “You kept a lot from me.”
She gave his shoulders a decisive yank, her eyes flashing with anger. “He took your soul Cass. I watched you being torn apart. Of course I kept things from you, I was trying to preserve the little of you I had left. Had you realized the truth... there would have been no way to save you.”
He kissed her roughly, silencing her distress and calming his own churning thoughts. She hadn’t known she’d held a piece of his soul safe, all those years. Forever his keeper, his salvation, his Mara.
“All those years.” He pulled back to look up at her, those mesmerizing cerulean eyes of hers having turned a dark shade of indigo. A storm brewing within her gaze. “Every time you saw me, you knew. How did you…?”
He wouldn’t have survived, had it been the other way around.
“I have died three times Cass, the first when he took you from me,” she whispered urgently, her lips moving over his, “the second when you came for me and didn’t know me. And a third when you returned.” She sucked on his bottom lip, panting against his mouth. “I couldn’t break away from you. Even after I’d lost you.” She was sucking at his mouth, he was trying to concentrate on her words…
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He gave in to their kiss, the moment still feeling surreal. Actually holding her. His wife in his arms. He needed her with an intensity that frightened him. Desperate to be closer, he pulled a slender leg over him, hands grasping bare flesh. Not close enough. Her body and her mind, her love, her grief, her pain, he would absorb it all, imprint them deep within himself so he could never lose her again. He’d imprint her too, ensuring she’d always find her way back to him.
He jerked forward when she nearly pulled away, only to groan in approval as she eased the shirt over his head, soon followed by her own. His mouth went right to her breast, his tongue circling her tightened nipple before sucking it fully into his mouth.
“Ahhh...”
Fire flooded him at the sound of that small whimper, her lithe body moving closer, her naked breasts pressing against his chest, her hands digging into his hair, holding his head still.
He growled and pushed her hands down. He wasn’t done. Hungrily he moved to her other breast, his hand replacing his mouth. His first erotic dreams had been of her. She’d been everything he fantasized about, the thought he retreated to when the choice had been taken out of his hands.
His Assat. His wife.
His hands were magnetized to her body. Couldn’t stop touching her. Her skin was soft and supple as he’d always imagined, her body remarkably responsive to his touch. Their mouths devoured each other, mindless while arousal built beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
His soul felt whole.
Her hand gripped his shaft, his breaths stopped, a groan torn from his chest.
“Mara.” He kissed down her neck. “My Mara.” His hand ran across her hip, pushing aside the silk which separated his fingers from her center.
“Umf,” he gasped against her neck as her hand squeezed his throbbing erection, her own intake of breath hissing by his ear. “So fucking wet for me.”
