by S J Doran
“Yes, it has.”
Empty
“You’re keeping the two of us apart,” he addressed Levistus coldly. “How am I supposed to take it?”
He smelled like her. How long had he stayed in his apartment with his Mara?
“The two of you were about to destroy everything. You can’t be together.” Levistus carried on, ignoring the underlying tension.
He was especially angry that Levistus and Azadiel were once again complicit in controlling their lives. His lingering resentment over the confrontation with Namtar was coming to the fore because of it. Not to mention their treason.
“She’s going to be my consort, so I suggest getting used to the idea.” He had no idea how they’d manage, but they would. He’d spent the entire sleepless night going back over every kiss and caress and the only conclusion he could draw was that if they had thought to keep their powers in check, it wouldn’t have merged, wouldn’t have escaped their control.
“I don’t foresee that ever being possible Cassius.”
Cass growled, leaning forward on his seat. He’d come out here to his throne room at Levistus’s insistence, hadn’t thought he’d be sitting here listening to him nattering away at him about all the reasons he couldn’t have his Mara. He was out here only to remind his people who was King.
“We’re going to be together. She will be sitting on a throne next to me. I’ve waited too damned long for this.”
“If you still have a throne to sit upon,” Levistus hissed. “You’re playing at being a King, treating this like a game when your entire rule is at stake. You come out and make a display of your power with no true concept of what your people need.”
“What about what I need?” Cass cut over his domineering speech.
“You’re a King, Cassius.” Levistus’s voice lost its edge. “Your kingdom has precedence over your personal life. Get used to the idea or you’ve lost the throne before you’ve even established yourself as a true monarch.”
He seethed, wanting to come back with a blistering retort, but damn it to the depths, he knew his Advisor was just advising, as he should. As unpalatable as the advice was, he was right. The crown sat heavy on his head, as the old adage warned.
Still, all the demons milling about in his throne room weren’t there for kingly guidance, they were there to see just how low their King was brought down.
Levistus sat in the seat normally reserved for his Herald, but since Jez was still indisposed the seat had to be filled. They were already spreading too much dissent, the demons placing bets and taking sides on who would replace Asmodeus’s line as high kings. Mephistopheles was firmly in the lead.
The throne room was full, the voices kept to a murmur, the occasional sideways glances let Cass know he was still the main topic of conversation. This wasn’t going to be as easy as merely putting in a public appearance.
They all believed he and Amara were going to end the known realms. It was prophesied, so it must be true.
With an exhausted sigh, he leaned back in his throne, the heavy twists of iron that made up the base of his crown digging in. He reached up and righted the custom fit circlet which wasn’t meant to be worn laying back. No such thing as rest for a King.
“All this because of some ridiculous prophecy spouted off by some prehistoric mystic probably high on the same shitty mushrooms Barbatos fed us,” he mumbled more to himself than Levistus.
“I lived that prophecy, Son.” Levistus’s eyes lit up, finally showing something other than apathy. “My love was taken from me to prevent that apocalypse — the two of you still live. Consider yourself fortunate.”
He couldn’t dredge up the proper amount of fury. He did still live. His Mara still lived. They couldn’t be together without ending the known worlds; that should excuse him for not having much sympathy for his advisor. It might have been less torment if one of them had died; then there could be grieving and mourning and eventual moving on. She hadn’t after his destruction, but that didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t possible.
There was nothing to mourn but the future that they had imagined as children. Hopes and dreams and nothing more.
“Fortunate.” He nodded his head. “I suppose you would consider it so to see your Benzosia and not be able to touch her? To have her at your side to look at her and hear her heartbeat, but not feel the warmth of her body? To not be able to give in to the yearning in your soul?”
He hoisted himself from his throne and shifted from foot to foot, wanting to pace but not wanting to show any of them just how out of control he was feeling.
He was healed. Physically.
He no longer knew who he was. Continually off-balance with feelings he hadn’t even known himself capable of.
“Yes, I suppose I should be grateful,” he said, leveling his gaze on Levistus. “To find my rule in question. My life in danger from an admittedly inept celestial, but they made it pretty damned clear they want my head.” He gestured to the still healing wound at his collarbone.
“I have defectors through all of the Nine Hells and it’s whispered even my loyal advisor mistrusts me.”
Her sigil was burning his chest. Acutely.
Not a reminder she needed him. She was in pain.
“I did what needed to be done.” Levistus clenched his jaw and planted his feet. “It wasn’t my intention to undermine your authority.”
“That is precisely why I can’t trust to have you here.” He swept his hand around the room. “They all scrutinize every move I make. Having those closest to me taking action against me as though I were out of control doesn’t speak well of my ability to rule.”
Levistus’s face dropped. He understood that Cass was no longer merely discussing what happened in his bedroom, but the events leading up to that.
“We did what we had to do to prevent a war from erupting. Cass, you disappeared right after they felt Amara die…” his words cut off and his head dropped, he developed a sudden interest in his fingernails.
“The High Priests and Dominae of Asurim saw her alive. You let them take her, against my orders. Made me look weak.”
He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the burning ache. Where the hells was she?
“And then we brought her back to you and the two of you nearly did end it all. I make no apology.” His arms crossed his chest.
“Yes. That’s been made clear. Every occupant in my fortress eyes me warily and looks at me with fear when I make my way toward the portal. Having you here chasing after me is not helping anything.”
“So what is my fate to be then?” Levistus’s voice went hushed, his body stiff and bracing for impact.
“I need you in the Malebolge.” Cass turned and took a moment to run his hands down his face. Too many loose ends to keep track of. His mind was barely keeping up with the changes within himself. “I need someone loyal to secure that realm and to report back any movement acting against my crown.”
“You would entrust that to me?” He looked floored. He’d obviously expected the worst.
Cass shrugged. “I trust that you’ll do what needs to be done to keep my father from the throne.” He exhaled a long breath and slumped back into his throne, resting his forehead on his hand, his other hand pressed to her sigil. She was calling him — did he dare go?
“I’m humbled that you’d ask this of me,” Levistus said, bowing his head.
Had he truly thought Cass could kill him?
“Yes. Well. I asked Az first, so don’t be too flattered. I hadn’t realized he had his own rift to maintain.”
Levistus nodded. “I’m sure he’d rather stay closer to you, son.”
Cass nodded sadly. Having Az around was a comfort. Since remembering everything, he realized he did have some happy memories. The majority featured either Az or Mara. No one but Az had known how entwined the two of them were. Az was the only one who knew how long they had been whispering their secrets in the dark.
“How was she?” he asked, tired of Levistus s
kirting around it and pretending as though he hadn’t just seen her. “And Jez?”
“Your Herald was,” he hesitated, averting his eyes from Cass, “healing. Amara has Rasputin with him.”
“And Mara?” His hand closed into a fist over her sigil. Why wouldn’t it stop burning?
Levistus cleared his throat, his burning gaze returning to Cass. “She was well enough when she left. All fierce temper and condemnation. The two of you are well-matched in that.”
Cass blew out a breath, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Well-matched. Yes, perfectly matched. Made for each other.
Why was his chest burning so badly?
“She left?” Cass shook his head, the rest of Levistus’s words finally registering. “She’s not in my apartment?”
He wanted her there. He liked thinking of her sleeping on his bed, twisted up in his silk sheets…
“Tore open a portal back to her home.”
He jumped to his feet. She left?
Hells, and he’d been hearing nothing but whisperings of fear even while still in his bed recovering from that magical backlash. Fear brought out the worst in any creature.
He rubbed at his chest even harder; the burning remained insistent.
“She needs me,” Cass said, hands balled into fists, already moving toward the portal. Alarm rang through him. Danger. She was hurt-
“Don’t you go to her,” Levistus shouted, running to catch up.
Cass stopped and turned on his advisor, “She is in danger. I feel it in every cell in my body. You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m not going to go to her when she needs me.” He pulled down his shirt, leaving the raw-looking sigil in plain view. “We are bound to come to each other’s aid.”
“Going to have to remedy that,” Levistus mumbled and Cass snarled with rage, his wings bursting from his back.
“Don’t try to stop me.” He turned on his heel and got up a brisk pace toward his bedroom, yelling back over his shoulder, “you’ll regret it.”
He tore open a hell-gate through to Asurim and into silence.
The type of silence that followed a death knell. Tolling the end of life — was he too late?
Panic flooded his chest, his heart racing hard, his hands trembling as he fumbled open doorknobs. Her sigil still burned, her life force was still there. How would he survive losing her again?
He wouldn’t.
Berith stood guarding her doorway. He took one look at Cass, and his arms dropped loosely to his sides, his feet spreading to brace himself. Cass could taste the magic he was calling up, an aftertaste of ozone on the back of his tongue.
He pulled up his own power, uncaring, willing to raze through whatever and whoever to get to her. They didn’t kill them all. Didn’t end the known worlds.
They had made the choice not to and that should fucking be enough to be trusted.
They had their opportunity — and Cass was still hurting with regrets over not taking it.
He hadn’t smiled since. Doubted he ever would again.
“I cannot allow you to pass.” Berith made no secret of the magic gathering in his palms.
“Not asking permission,” Cass shouted, “move.” He made a cutting motion with his hand as he closed the distance. Mara would be pissy with him if he cut down the Dominus of the Temple she resided in — his temple — a shrine to his own power…
He pulled the seething power into him. And more.
He felt her distress so clearly.
He growled and lunged, Berith stepping out of the way at the last moment and speaking softly to him, “I will let you pass as my Sarratum wishes, but I’ll not be far.” The warning was clear in his glare.
Back to him and Mara being within touching distance, unable to touch…
She opened her eyes as he got to her bed, pain and sorrow shining bright. Her body was covered in crisscrossed burns, a bandage across her neck that nearly caused his heart to stop… is that how she’d felt? Too close.
She was weak, hurting and he hadn’t been here to help her. He’d left her to deal with this.
He sat on the edge of her bed, holding his body stiff at her wince of pain.
“Mara.” He brought his hand up to touch her face, couldn’t find a spot to touch her and settled on her hair.
“Don’t,” she sighed and looked away. “This is what we get for letting them live. Villains aren’t supposed to show mercy.” She smiled lightly, the shine in her eyes making him realize she had taken something.
Of course she’d taken something, she had to be in so much pain.
He closed his eyes, hanging his head. Why did he waver? He could have her right now, the two of them, nothing in their way...
Instead he took off his uncomfortable crown, sat it on her nightstand and picked up the jar of salve, opening the lid and giving it a quick sniff. Lavender, hints of calendula and honey with back notes of magic. Her skin still looked shiny from a recent application, but he pushed the blankets off her anyway.
Wounds wept, her beautiful skin a mess of burns on every bared spot, her hands were trying to cover the worst of them. He picked up her hand where his sigil was imprinted, twining his fingers through hers and pressing their palms together.
“Berith wasn’t going to let me see you,” he whispered sadly, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the inside of her wrist, the least damaged part of her body. “I think he’s right outside the door, waiting to barge in.”
“He was nearly too late,” Mara said, her voice slow and thick, drugged, as she feebly gestured to her throat.
“Why did you leave my home?” He lifted her arm over her head, pressing their hands onto the pillow.
“Jez was safe there with Agate.” Her eyes met his, her pupils pinpoints, but focusing. “Have work… our path to clear.”
“You came back here alone. They’re all afraid.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, trying to get his own trembling insides under control.
They would have killed her.
He let go of her hand and dipped his fingers into the jar, focusing intently on painting the viscous liquid over the open wounds all over her body.
She was his to care for. He’d left her undefended. Again.
His hand shook as he set the jar back down, the rattle of the glass hitting the nightstand stirring Mara awake once more.
No words. There was nothing more he could say to her. Couldn’t keep apologizing for breaking promises.
He ripped his shirt over his head and took off his belt and socks and eased into her bed beside her, laying next to her and pulling her close to him, ignoring her hisses of pain.
“Sleep. Heal.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll watch you this time.”
Every time he let her go, he ended up regretting it.
“Cass it hurts,” she whispered, so softly he almost hadn’t heard.
“You need something for the pain?” He pulled back to look at her.
“Hurts being in your arms, knowing I can’t have you,” her voice trailed off as her breaths deepened.
Leaving him with the aching void of knowledge. This was killing them both. They couldn’t stay away from each other, couldn’t be together. There was no easy way out of this.
Heal with a side of regret
He walked out of her rooms without looking back. If he looked back, he’d stay. He never claimed to be a strong male. He was a survivor. And sometimes survivors had to gnaw off their own paws to keep on living.
A life with three paws was still worth something. Perhaps. Maybe eventually?
He’d held her through the night, held her tight until her body stopped trembling from the overstimulating healing magic. Until her breaths evened out and started caressing the bare skin of his chest. Until her skin became warm and pliant against his; until her scent started tickling his senses, overriding the smells of the healing balms.
He couldn’t stay with her without taking her. His ring on her finger was a statement of ownership. His clai
m on her. She hadn’t claimed him in any way, he was starting to think she was letting him go. But he didn’t want freedom. He would willingly be bound to her side if they could be together and just be left alone.
He should go home. He knew there were rebellions brewing, talk was rampant, new alliances being made, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back there without Jez at his side. He needed someone in his corner, dammit.
So instead, he took the first portal back to the Material Plane, right to his apartment on the Mont. The front door was ajar, he tamped down the gut clench of annoyance that his most personal space had been invaded.
The runner in the foyer was bunched up, preventing the door from closing and causing an involuntary tic in his jaw. Which got worse when he saw dishes on his counter. Dark Gods but he hated washing dishes. Hated having dirty ones even more, because bugs.
He shook off that thought and pulled his rug straight, closed the open cabinet doors and walked through his empty living room, ignoring the open blinds, right into his bedroom.
The curtains were drawn tight, casting the room in a dark burnished glow from the bright sun trying to fight its way through the fabric.
Jez was passed right out, one arm over his head, the other under the blankets, his wings spread across the width of the bed. Peace settled in his chest, just from being in his presence.
He’d almost killed him.
Jez had put himself at risk to keep the realms safe and Cass would have continued destroying everything and would have killed his best friend. Dead. No longer to exist.
It hadn’t bothered him at the time, and likely if he were to weigh all the pros and cons, he’d still choose his Mara, but the thought of losing Jez had his chest feeling heavy. Not yet. Just… not yet.
He stripped back down to his boxers, uncaring that he was still covered in the scent of Mara’s healing salves, and crawled into bed next to Jez, making himself comfortable on one of his shining black wings. Jez didn’t deserve to be ostracized by his people. He was the most unselfish being he knew.
He woke up to being pushed off his bed, the sea air and familiar presence of Jez easing his racing heart. It took him a couple breaths to realize someone was tugging the blankets from under him.
