Forsaken Fates

by S J Doran

  The things he had done in front of his Mara… he swallowed hard and jumped out of the shower. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole. He had enough guilt.

  Gut-gnawing, never-letting-up sort of guilt.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and lay across his bed, picking up a book and hoping he could get lost in the story.

  His entire body jerked—awake—he hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. Jez’s hand rested on his chest, and his towel had been replaced with pajama pants.

  He couldn’t think. He was so fucking hard it hurt — whatever he had dreamed about—he’d woken before he’d finished.

  He jumped out of bed, and without a second thought, cut open a gate…

  Right into her bedroom.

  There could be a way for them. She needed to know.

  How could he continue to stay away?

  He just needed to hold her. To reassure himself that she was real, that she had healed. And he could touch her.

  How many fucking years had he spent yearning to just be able to wrap his arms around her?

  His heart was racing. He wasn’t sure that this driving urge would ever lessen, this all-encompassing need to be near her. Where it was heartache for both of them.

  He couldn’t see her at first, she was right in the center of her bed with blankets completely covering her, deeply asleep with a peaceful expression and parted lips. Her skin was back to pearly health, no more than a scratch to mar her perfect throat.

  He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the ache, and slid under her blankets, slipping his arm under her neck and pulling her onto it with his other arm before circling them both around her and tucking her up to his chest and resting his cheek on her hair. She was real, she was healing, and she fit like she was made for his arms.

  She sighed and began to stir, her belly brushing softly against his erection… he could barely stifle the groan. Didn’t want to wake her...

  She brushed against it again, rocking her hips to press against it harder.

  Hells.

  He ran his hand down her hair to her hip and gripped gently, trying to keep her still—cause he was fucking going to lose it.

  She rubbed her legs together with another sigh, nuzzling her nose right against his neck, her hot breaths tickling.

  Mistake. He couldn’t do this — he wanted her too fucking much.

  With a soft groan, he eased himself back, only to find himself trapped when she threw her leg over his hips.

  “Demon. What are you doing in my bed?” Her voice was raspy with sleep, the heat from between her legs pressing against his throbbing erection.

  He groaned out loud. “I just needed… to hold you. To make sure you’re okay. No one sent word...”

  She sucked in a sharp breath; her palm coming up to cup his cheek, her eyes sleepy and sad.

  “You’re worried for me?” Her brow knitted. “But you left before I woke. Agate had to tell me where you’d gone.”

  “I don’t want to keep making things worse,” he said, his hand tensing against her waist, then moving to grasp her flesh. Hells. She felt so right in his arms.

  She ran her hand down his jaw, pressing her thumb to his bottom lip. “You sure that’s all you came for?”

  He closed his eyes and growled out, “damn it all, I just woke up and needed to have you in my arms. Some part of me still can’t believe I can finally hold you. I can’t keep staying away, I need...”

  “Cass…” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest. “When’s the last time you fed? You can’t just starve yourself.”

  He flinched back, moving his head so he could clearly see her face, looking directly into her eyes. “I don’t want anyone else. Not anyone but you. I promised. I won’t break another, never again.” He rubbed his cheek across the silk of her robe, the fabric snagging against his unshaven cheek, parting just the slightest. Enough that he could see…

  “You don’t think this is hurting me too?” She jerked back, pulling her robe tight to her body. “You can’t say things like that. I’m dreading the loss of you all over again demon.”

  He turned his face away so she wouldn’t see the devastation her words carved. “My sweet amata.” He wrapped his arm around her head and tugged it down to his chest. “I promised you the world and I can’t even take care of myself.”

  She went pliant against him, twining her fingers through his. “I never wanted the world, Cass. Only you.”

  His throat burned, his chest was tight. She fit so perfectly. “Only ever you.”

  “Can you keep your power contained?” Her thumb found the crown of his cock and circled in whisper-soft caresses.

  “Mara,” he grabbed her hand and held it still. Didn’t move it away though. He was in agony. “I’m barely holding onto what little control I have… I woke up from a dream… oh hells.” He wrapped his own hand over his erection, the thin cotton of his pants adding a bite of friction.

  She sat up and pushed the blankets off them and burst into giggles.

  He peeked open his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?” He blinked, unsure.

  “What are you wearing?”

  He looked down. All the hells and all the pants Jez could have put on him? Fucking happy face clowns?

  “Jez… got me dressed.”

  Her bright smile wavered for a moment, then slowly it turned heated, her eyelids growing heavy. “Let’s get those offensive things off.”

  “You first.” Her silk nightshirt hid nothing. He could see the peaks of her nipples and the shadow of her cleft… it wasn’t enough.

  He rolled up onto his elbow and pushed the negligee up her thighs, over her hips, finally baring her breasts. She pulled it off the rest of the way, and he just looked, his pressing need for release subdued by the feeling blooming in his chest.

  He brought his hand up, using the tips of his fingers under her breast he lifted it as his thumb scraped across a hardened peak.

  “You know how many times I got myself off, imagining touching these beauties?”

  She moaned softly and swayed towards his touch. The scent of her desire hit him about the same time as her lust.

  His nostrils flared as he took in a steadying breath.

  “Mara… I can’t. I don’t trust myself to keep it reined in.”

  Her hands pushed his pants down, the cool night air painful against his cock.

  She looked up at him, then back down. “I don’t know if I can either. Maybe if we don’t touch?”

  He growled. “I need to touch you.” His hand ran from her breast to her hip and he squeezed. Hard. “Just… a bit?”

  They were skirting a really fine fucking line.

  He was ravenous. Barely in control.

  He slipped his fingers through her folds, parting the way for access to her center. He dipped one finger into her wet sheath and she whimpered, rocking against his hand.

  His hand was shaking terribly as he pulled his finger back to her clit, circling slowly before delving once again. He pushed in two fingers, his thumb on her clit, her moisture leaking into his palm… pooling.

  She sucked in a shuddering breath, her fingers twisting into his hair. She clenched around him and his breath came out in a huff, his forehead dropping to her collarbone.

  “Mara. You’re so wet for me.” His body was burning. “I can’t… I’m going to lose it.”

  She pushed gently at his shoulders. “Let me watch you.”

  He nodded, falling back to the bed, his thoughts scrambled, his power reaching — feeding off her lust — no more. Had to keep control…

  He wrapped his wet hand around his shaft, giving himself a rough stroke before opening his eyes to look at her. She lay beside him, her eyes following the movement of his hand, her own hand buried between her thighs. Her face was flushed right down to her chest, her eyes barely open, her teeth pressed on her lip…

  He eased off. He was getting there too soon…

  She cried out, her back arching…

 
; And he came, spilling against his own belly.

  He picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, and holding it to his chest, right over his heart. Trying to catch his breath. To think. This had been madness.

  “We can’t keep doing this.” Her voice was breathy, but he could hear the resignation.

  He swallowed hard, closed his eyes harder.

  “Az… Andrus.” He took in a deep steadying breath and tried again. “Andrus mentioned being able to find my mother in Kur. Az told me my father used the Ruby Rod as a conduit for his own power. That it might help contain mine. I think Az meant that she might know where he hid it.”

  “If he didn’t take it with him.” Her eyes were no longer closed, her expression turned calculating. “Kur is slowly fading, but it is accessible amongst the underworlds. Do you think she’d help us?”

  “Do you think she’d even see me if I asked for her?” There it was. The real reason he didn’t want to entertain this mad scheme. They’d have better luck just tracking down the Rod, without trying to ask favors from goddesses who’d abandoned him…

  “Are you ready to give up on us based on the small chance she won’t? You’re her only child, as far as I know. It would be a simple matter of ego that she not let you suffer.”

  Her words trailed off as comprehension dawned, he arched a brow in response.

  “Right.” She sighed and lay her cheek against his chest. “I can petition her, in my sanctum. You never know, she might have a way to help us without having to track down anything that belonged to your father.”

  “We have to try everything. I won’t give you up.” He curled his arm around her shoulders, resting his hand on her hair.

  “Cass.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “I don’t know if I can give you up.”

  He hugged her back tightly to his chest. “Can I sleep with you? For tonight?” He couldn’t face her. He didn’t want to see that look in her eyes.

  “Not if you’re wearing those creepy clown things.”

  He laughed, turning to look at her. She had a mischievous grin on her face, but she wasn’t making a move to kick him out of her bed.

  “Naked it is, then.” He pulled her back on to his chest and tucked the blanket back over them, and fell asleep, his mind completely at ease.

  And woke to blistering anger radiating through the room.

  His eyes snapped open, landing on Jez, who had pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and was sitting there, hands behind his head, glowering at them. He looked down to make sure Mara was still covered, the damn blanket hog was twisted right into a silk sheet. He smiled and ran his hand down her hair; only to be interrupted by a loud throat clearing.

  Mara blinked open her eyes, and he turned to face Jez, a.k.a: the firing squad.

  “Playing one fuck of a dangerous game, Cass.” Jez snarled. “You snuck out of bed. Am I not supposed to sleep?”

  “You dressed me in clown pajamas.” He smirked, delicately avoiding the subject at hand.

  “Because you’re wearing yourself down to the point of not even taking care of yourself.” Jez dropped his hands, leaning forward. “Does she know?” He notched his chin towards Mara and Cass shot her a look, shaking his head at her silent question.

  “Enough, Jez. I just needed to hold her.”

  Jez averted his eyes. “I know, Cass. I can feel it too, remember? I also know how much more this is going to wreck you. You’re going to go home and it’s all going to be fresh again. I’m trying to help.”

  His chest tightened to the point where he couldn’t catch his breath. Jez was right. He wanted her too badly. It was an acute pain dragging across his heart, a constant slow digging…

  He looked over to Mara, who was avoiding his eyes.

  He pulled on his pants and stood, swiping his hand down his face, trying to breathe properly.

  “Herald,” Mara finally spoke. “We’re going to need a sacrifice to gain entrance to the underworld. We need Basileus.”

  That stole what was left of his breath. Was he ready to see Basileus come to his final end? Were they ready to declare war on his father?

  He pressed a kiss to Mara’s forehead without another word, leaving Jez behind as he cut a gate back to his room, collapsed onto his couch, and sat staring at the empty fireplace.

  Sanctum profānum

  Amara woke, again reaching for that enticing scent of sandalwood and aftershave that teased her nose, his scent lingering upon the sleek silks and soft furs, sleep forsaking her as a sense of longing crept through. Would he return tonight? Tomorrow maybe? At all? What reason did he have to come back to her?

  Insecurity was an unwelcome emotion, and so was the onset of jealousy which accompanied the sentiment. She envied the Herald. Ever since seeing the regret in Cassius’s eyes, she’d genuinely began to resent his attachment to his friend. She was just being selfish, of course, she realized this too.

  But who could blame her for feeling a little unbalanced? She had nothing to offer her demon that would serve, nothing worth the price that their love would demand. What was the value of her love compared to power gained from lust? Or to the comfort offered by his herald?

  “Worthless...” The thought unsettled.

  Her gaze found the fire burning inside the hearth, locking upon its flames, observing the tragedy of their dance as they fused together before again falling apart.

  Once upon another life, she and her demon would have run away together, built their cottage amongst the mortals, and lived a life bound only to each other, subservient to none. But they hadn’t run fast enough that night, and fate had caught up to them. Now that small, precious dream didn’t fit reality anymore, because that same fate had seen a crown placed upon both their heads.

  Being a Queen regent, a Sarratum, came with perks of luxury and the power of authority. Enjoyable as they may be, the perks failed to make up for the burden of rule. In many ways, it trapped her as effectively as those iron bars and mystic chains once had.

  If Callista were still alive, she would be wearing the Asurian crown in her place, as her sister had been meant to.

  Would life have been any easier this way? The notion gave her pause.

  Things had moved so quickly, between victories and losses she hadn’t given thought to that which had been gained. Vengeance for her sisters deaths had been claimed through the downfall of a god. She was in possession of a spirit crystal, one which contained a highly pissed off Sumerian death god. Namtar.

  This meant she was currently holding a weighty bargaining tool in her dealings with deities. Three souls in exchange for one God would surely be considered a reasonable deal.

  I can bring them back.

  She’d need three living bodies to house their spirits, of course, but sacrifices were always at her disposal. With her three sisters alive and guarding the Asurian throne, she’d be set free from its demands and expectations. She could return to the palace of the Nessus to be with Cassius, though a poor substitute for their cottage it was.

  It could work. If there was even the slightest chance of bringing back her sisters, she wouldn’t, no, couldn’t hesitate.

  This, however, wouldn’t remove the main obstacle keeping her and Cassius separated. Their power would need to be contained somehow. After all, it would be rude to bring back her sisters from the dead, only to kill them during her wedding night. Too bad there wasn’t some sort of barrier they could use to shield their power. A magical condom, of sorts.

  They were going to need more allies if they wanted help diffusing the fears and superstition attached to the prophecy. She had none in the Nessus. Jez’Piel made no secret in his wish to see them apart, and Levistus was proving more of a challenge to bring to heel than anticipated. Vows and deals had failed to secure the loyalty of the Prince of Secrets. Fortunately, he possessed a weakness, one no one but she could exploit. Benzosia. It was worth a shot, and she’d always preferred blackmail over treaties anyway.

  Four souls, one god
. Still a good deal…

  Then there was the main reason for traveling to the underworld, The goddess Avrogale. She owed Cassius in every way a mother could ever owe her son. She’d failed him, had abandoned Cassius to his father’s cruelty when he was but a defenseless boy. Her demon deserved answers.

  Maybe she’d speak with Azadiel. Their former tutor had served the Nessus when Avrogale was queen consort to Asmodeus, so he’d likely know where to best apply pressure to get the goddess of strategy and war to acquiesce.

  Come right down to it, the goddess could stand to repay Mara herself for all the years of dedication and offerings. The majority of the Sumerian pantheon survived the fade and existed solely because she’d willed it so, her offerings sustaining them through the passing of time, the mortal realm long since forgotten their names.

  Already she’d abandoned the comfort of her bed, rushing through warded doors, and down a familiar path towards the inner sanctum. Torches sprang to life as she moved through dark corridors, the beams of three purple moons diffused through stained glass windows, their light too faint to even reach the ground.

  She followed instinct blindly, and blinked when suddenly finding herself already standing before the imposing entrance of the Sanctum. The Zigurat e’Zagmi, the temple of the High Priestess, containing the shrine of Asurim itself. The altar in the sacrificial hall she served to honor the Gods of old. It was there she harvested their blessings and their power, and it was here, in the Inner Sanctum she surrendered them. Feeding it their divine energy to the essence of their dying realm.

  The large doors rumbled as they slowly fell open. The wards chiseled upon the stone surface serving for guardians when locked inside its crystal walls, keeping her safe and tethering her to Asurim.

  It was within the privacy of this sanctum, away from prying eyes that she’d long ago erected a second altar, one dedicated to the Sumerian pantheon.

  One by one, candles were lit while incense burned in offering. Neither Inanna nor Avrogale had ever deigned to answer before, realistically there was no reason to expect them to do so this time. But they possibly held the answer towards changing her fate. Their fate. So she would continue to call.