Chapter Eleven
“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.”
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Ben watched Eve—Seven—pick at the demolished ruins of her chili crab.
Somehow, over the past hour or so, she’d grown more…vibrant. Her brown hair took on a lustrous sheen, glinting with licks of flaming orange and red even in the shadowed corner of the eatery. Her pale face glowed with rosy good health, as if her cheeks were permanently sun-kissed.
He could see a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Only there. Nowhere else that was visible. Which made him wonder if she had freckles where her skin was presently hidden from view.
And at that thought, a bolt of lust shot suddenly through his groin, making him harden in an instant.
He took a slow, shaky breath, trying to get his body under control.
This was madness. His physical awareness—sexual awareness—of another had never been so heightened before. Only around Michael and Eve. He’d enjoyed Ruth’s company too, in a different way.
He only felt this…connection around Seven, he realized. There was no way to conceal this truth, and Ben wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.
As if she could feel the intensity of his regard, she glanced up at him just then, meeting his gaze.
Those eyes…
Glittering quite literally with stars. Only a few, not an entire universe the way he recalled them before, when she’d been a god. Iridescent didn’t begin to describe them.
They possessed both a depth of knowledge accumulated over a length of time beyond his ken. But also, they held so much ignorance. Not willful. Not malicious. Simply a lack.
An innocence.
He remembered that too. In unguarded moments, she’d shown this side of herself to him. Never to others. Only him.
It was this purity and innocence that he’d wanted to protect in the past. Like a fragile seedling that only needed sunlight, water and care to grow and flourish. She had the potential for great things. A miracle waiting to happen.
Indefinable. Limitless.
Was it any wonder that he’d given her everything he had, for the promise that was never spoken, but that he knew was always there.
He had the same almost overpowering desire now. Looking into her eyes, he found her unutterably captivating.
“If it’s comparing notes you want to do,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to disturb the trance both of them seemed to be under, “I think it best to do it with Michael. He’s the brain, after all.”
They continued to stare at each other unblinkingly. He wondered whether she’d shift forms right then and there. He wasn’t sure he cared he was so lost in her gaze.
“At the moment I think Eve’s brain is complete mush,” she went on in that same reverent whisper.
“I think I could stare at you like this all day, until my eyes dried up like the Sahara,” she confessed.
Her concentration shifted slightly lower to his mouth, and the force of her stare was almost physical. As if she touched him there.
He parted his lips as his breaths grew heavier, making his chest rise and fall from the added labor.
She licked her own lips in reaction, as if her mouth had dried up like her eyes. It was then that he noticed how perfectly shaped her mouth was, small but plump, red with blood.
His wayward erection pulsed against the zipper of his cargo shorts, testing its confinement, as if it had a mind of its own.
As if it was imagining those perfect lips wrapped tightly around the plump head of his cock, her tongue licking delicately into his oozing slit, gathering up his nectar, milking him for more with insistent, yet lazy pressure.
As if she would suck on him like this, just his sensitive glans, for her mouth seemed too small to take more of him. She’d suck until her cheeks hollowed, the clasp tight and wet, as if he was a sweet dessert, his cream the perfect complement to the spiciness of the crab they ate.
She pursed her moist lips suddenly, the corners curled in a feline grin.
His eyes shot back to hers and saw the roaring heat within them. As if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
As if she thought the same.
“Michael,” she croaked.
Then cleared her throat and tried again.
“Michael is going to pay for lunch.”
She held up a hand when he wanted to protest.
“My treat. Even if this isn’t a date. I insist.”
He let it go and dipped his head in silent thanks.
“I will be right back. To, uh, change things up.”
She meant her form, he knew. Did she have control of it?
“You won’t disappear on me, will you?” she asked a little worriedly, the flames of her lust somewhat banked at the prospect.
“I will be here,” he said. “We can take a walk along the river when you’re back.”
She smiled with pleasure.
For a moment, he saw that flare of innocence again. A dazzling brightness that lit up her eyes. Her whole face.
He shook his head at himself mentally as she walked toward the front counter to take care of the tab, then picked her way to the restroom to “change.”
How could he have ever forgotten her face? It seemed impossible now. He had a feeling he’d dream of her at night, his hand on his cock, trying and failing to relieve the pressure she created with just a look.
He wiped a hand over his face and inhaled a bracing breath. He had to get a hold of himself.
But his mind was bombarded with memories of how they used to be together. How his body had responded to her endless demands. No matter her form or his, she’d been insatiable.
And so had he.
He’d craved her just as much. He’d held back on the words of what he felt, for she didn’t seem to want them. She certainly never spoke of her own feelings apart from ownership and lust.
But he could never hold back physically. His body was made for hers. And when they came together, his heart, mind and soul wrapped around her too, desperate to join with her in every way.
He couldn’t stop the flood of memories and phantom sensations coursing through his body now. His cock throbbed as if it was squeezed within a ghostly channel, his balls drawing up tight.
Fuck, he could come right here in the back of the restaurant without a single touch, from the memories alone. He ground the heel of his hand into his groin, trying to distract himself with pain.
But his body wasn’t obeying his will anymore. It had been too long. His cock refused to stand down no matter what he did. If he didn’t release the pressure soon, he thought he’d lose his mind!
“I’m back.”
Ben glanced up at Michael’s voice, seeing the lean male dressed in a I-Love-Bangkok T-shirt and khaki shorts.
It didn’t help.
It didn’t matter that Seven was now in a male form. It never mattered what form she was in. Ben’s lust wouldn’t abate. His cock only jerked more pre-cum, wetting the front of his underwear.
Christ.
Michael’s nostrils flared, as if he could smell Ben’s arousal. His eyes homed in on Ben’s lap, as if he could X-ray right through the table that blocked it from view.
“Come,” Michael growled beneath his breath, his eyes burning with a predatory need.
There was no misinterpreting what he meant. What he wanted to happen, being in public bedamned.
Ben’s body locked up tight, fighting to hurl itself over the edge that blurred between pain and pleasure, even as he forcibly held back by sheer dint of will.
“No,” he rasped.
“You don’t command me in this life.”
Both startled and infuriated at Ben’s denial, Michael’s eyes shot back to his.
Taking another deep breath to ground himself, Ben got up from the table as smoothly as he could, despite the stone-hard erection trapped awkwardly inside his shorts.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he strode from the eatery at a sedate pace. Fighting the instinct to flee.
Or fight.
Or fuck.
God, he wanted desperately to fuck.
Pure soul or no Pure soul. Even the threat of the thirty-day excruciating demise wasn’t enough to deter him. He simply wanted to rut until his body was drained dry, until he collapsed and blacked out from exhaustion.
No more thinking. No more feeling. Just blessed release.
Was that too much to ask? After almost thirty fucking years of abstinence?
“Are you angry with me?” Michael caught up to him, the shorter man’s gait having to work double time to keep up with Ben’s longer strides.
“No,” he grunted, walking so fast he was all but jogging.
“You seem angry,” Michael unhelpfully pointed out.
“At myself. Not at you.”
“But why?” came the bewildered query. “Let’s go back to the hotel and get this out of our systems. I want it just as much as you do.”
Ben stopped suddenly and rounded on him, the powerful presence of his body pushing Michael back a step.
“That’s all this is to you, isn’t it?” Ben asked savagely, no longer in control of his emotions and thoughts. Not even caring that they were on a public walkway and people were milling around them, looking at them curiously.
“You lust, so you take. You fuck. You release. It’s never been anything else, has it?”
Michael frowned with something like confusion.
“Well, why wouldn’t I fuck when I feel the need? Why does it have to be more? You liked it too, I know you did. We were incredible together. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I wanted you.”
He gestured between them, both of them sporting obvious hard-ons inside their shorts.
“Clearly, nothing has changed. It’s just the way we’re built.”
Michael shrugged, and Ben wanted to punch him.
“I guess humans call it chemistry. Why fight it?”
Why fight it indeed.
Ben couldn’t answer the question for himself at the moment. He only knew that as much as his body would find pleasurable relief, perhaps for the first time—truly—in the whole of his human life, there would also be a painful emptiness in the aftermath.
He recalled that emptiness, that excruciating ache, almost more clearly than he recalled the euphoria and bliss. It was never just sex with Seven. He didn’t think it ever could be.
“I’m going to walk ahead,” he said quietly now. With a semblance of calm he didn’t really feel.
“Wait ten minutes before following, if you are still open to comparing notes.”
“Of course I am,” Michael said readily. He seemed far more comfortable with the state of things than Ben was, just going with the flow.
Happily out of control.
“I want to help. And I want to be with you as much as you will allow me.”
Ben met his eyes at that.
Michael shrugged sheepishly.
“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I like talking to you. Or just being around you. Even when I tried to avoid it, I was always drawn back to you. And since I’m human, with a limited lifespan, a veritable ticking time bomb, I don’t want to waste a single moment being apart. You make me feel…alive.”
Yeah, Ben thought. He knew the feeling.
Michael shrugged again and hunched his shoulders, as if he was embarrassed.
“So there. I’ll do what you want. I’ll find you later, since you seem determined to run away from me now.”
“I’m not—”
“Not running away,” Michael amended for him. “Taking stock and taking control again, then, if that’s the way you want to think about it. Whatever makes that anguished look on your face go away.”
Michael rubbed at his sternum almost unconsciously.
“Gives me pangs to see it.”
Ben wiped a hand over his face again.
Jesus.
Was he so transparent?
“Seven…”
He didn’t know what he wanted to say. The name was almost like a plea to have mercy on his tortured heart.
Michael looked into his eyes directly, hiding nothing.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Benjamin. Both in the past tense and now. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. But I can see that you’re hurting. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I don’t want to. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. But maybe I’ve just been too selfish to see or care that I did.”
He took a breath and rushed on, as if he was afraid he couldn’t get all the words out.
“I want to be better. I want to try. You make me want to try.”
Ben’s head went back at that, as if Michael had delivered a knockout punch with those words. He closed his eyes and fisted his hands at his sides.
Because they wanted to reach for Michael. He craved the physical connection like it was food for his soul.
But he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t be broken again.
Something had to give.
Instead, his jaw flexing as he fought for control, Ben gave a nod and turned, letting Michael interpret it as he would.
Determinedly, he walked away from the embodiment of everything he’d ever desired.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
In the end, Michael didn’t follow Ben.
He walked with his head down, not caring where he was headed. He just let his feet lead the way.
Eventually, he arrived at a small waterfront park that was not as populated as the usual tourist areas. Maybe because it was in the poorer part of town.
He trudged to the river’s edge and sat down on the wooden pier, letting his feet dangle freely above the choppy waves. A couple of fishing boats dotted the water, as picturesque as a postcard.
It was another sweltering sunny day in Bangkok. Most people, even the locals, spent their time indoors where the AC was on full blast if it were public spaces like the malls, or outside in the shade. Michael could feel his fair skin burning under the relentless afternoon sun, but he didn’t care.
He was still reeling from the confrontation with Ben.
There was no other word for it. He felt like they’d gone a few rounds in a UFC match for the tension and ache in his muscles, and the pain from grinding his jaw as he fought for control. He felt bruised and bloody, though there were no visible open wounds.
He wasn’t used to denying himself. He’d never had to as a god. Ben’s past incarnations had never rejected him before.
Everyone else had though.
They taunted, sneered and jeered at Seven. They tried to take her down whenever there was even a sliver of opportunity.
But Byakko had always defended and protected her. She’d always assumed that it was because he owed the Twins his life. He was their creation, after all. But that didn’t explain all of it when she really thought it through.
Everything was the gods’ creation. Yet, living beings did what pleased them, especially humans. In modern times, many spurned beliefs of a higher power. Of magic. They cared not one whit for the gods.
So, why did Byakko treat her so well? Why did he choose her?
Michael tried to reason it out, without the distraction of a fluttery heart.
(Honestly, the heart was such a useless handicap. Those confounded flutters were the worst.)
But he simply couldn’t apply logic to it. It didn’t make sense.
What did Ben’s soul have to gain in giving so much of himself? Seven only required loyalty and strength. Mutually satisfying rutting of bodies. Physical release.
She’d never asked for love.
In fact, she’d been furious when he ended up dying because of it. How inconvenient! Her favorite pet just gone in the blink of an eye.
Her Twin seemed to feel something like remorse when she found out about Seven’s infraction and the consequences of it. Or perhaps it was simply a sense of justice at the destruction of something so beautiful and pure. Maybe her Twin was her conscience in those moments, cursing them both with the weakness of a soul.
No other gods possessed souls.
Souls were complicated. They wanted things.
Seven blamed her newly acquired soul for her final act in the War of the Gods. When she sacrificed her other half to save Byakko’s cub…
War of the Gods. Tens of thousands of years ago.
How had this happened? When did the dragons turn against them?
They were the Twins’ creations! Their ultimate weapons against those who challenged them. For hundreds of years the dragons led the Beasts of air, sea and land to victory after victory against the Goddesses’ foes.
What changed?
Seven blasted enemy gods with one hand while pushing back Rai’s dragonfire with the other.
The white sky dragon unleashed the full force of his power at her.
Her! His creator!
She didn’t have to look down to see her Twin battling the other gods’ monsters as well as Kai on land. The earth dragon rained heavy boulders on top of the Dark Goddess from the blasts of his dragonfire. She prevented them from burying her with a forcefield, but it sapped her strength and concentration, making her vulnerable to the other gods’ attacks.
Mass chaos exploded all around them. It seemed that Heaven itself was crumbling.
Is this what you want, Papa? Seven stormed in her mind.
To see how much I can withstand? To see how strong I really am?
Then, watch me, old man. I will destroy everything to prove myself to you. You can’t imprison me any longer. I won’t be contained!
There was no answer from the all-mighty deity. Nor from his Mate.
But then, Seven didn’t expect an answer. The Jade Emperor had never interfered before, never helped her when the other gods hurt and bullied her. He didn’t care.
And neither did she.
With an adrenaline-filled roar, she redoubled her efforts and pushed her attackers back. Rai, too, was forced into retreat, his dragonfire no match for the intensity of her blast. A fiery eagle warrior flew beside him, adding his strength. But both of them together were still no match for Seven, weakened though she was after fighting for so long.
Then, just when she thought she had the white dragon cornered, he abruptly changed tactics, diving toward the earth to join his brother in the assault against her Twin.
Seven immediately dove as well in a streak of blinding light, the fire bird hot on her tail. But before she hit earth, another scene caught her eye.
Some distance away, Goya, the young Tiger King, was fighting off demons and giants. He was wounded and surrounded, cut off from the other Beasts of land.
She didn’t know whether he fought for the Goddesses or for his own Kind. It didn’t seem to matter. He was on the verge of being defeated.
Sister! I need you! I cannot hold them off any longer! her Twin called out in distress, shouting in Seven’s mind.
In the split second before she hit ground, Seven had a choice to make:
Save her Twin or save the cub. There could only be one.
As if time froze in that instant, her mind whirled through the possibilities.
If she didn’t aid her Twin, she’d be weakened forever if she somehow survived this battle herself. Her power would be effectively halved.
If she didn’t save the cub…
Who cared? He was just a Beast. She could create countless more. The choice seemed so simple she wondered at her own pause.
But then, unbidden, she recalled the miniature version of Goya bounding after Byakko in the forest. How father and son played together. How happy Byakko looked as they mock wrestled and growled, the poor cub so eager and confused, he ended up gnawing on his own tail in the skirmish while Byakko chuffed with laughter.
The image was replaced by another. She recalled the look in Byakko’s eyes when he released his Nourishment inside her one last time. It was love, she knew. Though she didn’t understand it and didn’t feel it herself. Yet, it was infinitely beautiful and precious. Hopeful yet bittersweet.
And finally, she recalled how he bade her to watch over the cub as he breathed his last. A creature borne of their bodies. Him and her. A piece of Byakko that still thrived.
She made her choice.
She called upon all her strength and power into a single blast of light, intercepting all of the attacks directed at Goya from every direction. She absorbed them all as she surrounded him in a protective embrace.
The first time she’d ever done so since he left her body.
No!
Her Twin’s bellow thundered through the skies. Seven didn’t know whether it was for her or for the Dark Goddess’s own defeat.
In another moment, the world disappeared. Her Twin was gone.
An untold stretch of time later, she awoke beneath the Dome of the Celestial Palace, transported to another realm.
It was her new prison, she understood without being told. She could feel the invisible shackles that caged her powers. Or perhaps she’d consumed most of it in saving the cub.
Her eyes glittered and swirled as she lay upon the stone floor gazing beyond the sky-high Dome.
It was so quiet here. So peaceful. There was no one else around. She didn’t sense other gods. Had they all been destroyed, or did they simply not exist here?
No matter. She was used to being alone.
She didn’t feel the presence of her Twin either. Was the Dark Goddess being punished too? Hadn’t they both been punished enough being cursed with souls for upsetting the Universal Balance?
If she knew then where she ended up now, would she still have made the same choice in the beginning? Would she still have lain with her Beast?
Yes! A part of her shouted. Even though her intellect told her she’d been unwise. It had been glorious. But extremely stupid.
Another part of her argued that it wasn’t even her fault. The Beast had grown his own soul. No one cursed him with it. He’d made his own choice.
Regardless, she didn’t regret anything. Now that she no longer had him, she realized belatedly the magnitude of the loss. If she’d known he could die… If she’d known their time together was limited…
She would have treated him better, she thought. She would have…
Cared.
At least she saved his cub. If the Universe was fair, Goya would be alive and well wherever he was. Running free with his clan of Beasts.
Seven gazed beyond the Dome to the infinite darkness.
There were very few stars out, blinking weakly. Depending on how long she was incarcerated here, perhaps she’d create some more to join them. Keep them company.
She closed her eyes and wished, concentrating hard.
When she opened them again, the Constellation Byakko shone brightly in the cosmos, the White Tiger of the West. Was it her imagination that put him there? Or was it a gift from the Jade Emperor?
Didn’t matter. He was there. Watching over her as he always did.
For the first time since his…abandonment, she didn’t feel lonely anymore. She didn’t even chafe at her prison as she used to. A strange calmness settled over her.
With a smile on her lips, Seven slept.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Dear Benjamin,
I write to you as Michael, because he is the most clear-headed part of me. (Though he’s no less attracted to you than Eve. I think you’ve seen the obvious evidence of that).
In deference to your need for space, I did not follow you yesterday. As much as I wanted to.
You have no idea how much. I am not in the habit of denying myself the things I want.
I know what you’re going to say—it doesn’t matter what I want. It’s all about free will and choice. And you choose to deny both of us.
I know you want it too. I’m rather jealous that your “evidence” is significantly more substantial than mine.
Logically, it makes no sense to me, this practice of denial. Even humans live in the age of instant gratification. Your ancient soul seems to be an anachronism in this time.
But maybe that’s one of the reasons you’re special. One of countless reasons I am eternally fascinated by you.
Well, logical or not, I suppose I must respect your decision and desire for distance. I no longer command you, as you pointed out. And I find that I no longer want to.
I wish you would choose to close the distance between us. I would eagerly meet you halfway.
As to the more serious matter of comparing notes—
Yes, I have been helping the dragons on these quests. Initially, I didn’t do it for them. I did it because I was bored, and the quests were a new game to be played.
Don’t judge me. If you exist for tens and hundreds of thousands of years, see how you feel. And if that existence is relegated to a bland, limited sphere…well, I should feel fortunate not to have gone stark raving mad.
Side note: this is how gods die. They grow tired of their interminable existence. It’s why they create so much drama and chaos. To dispel the boredom. They’ve seen and done it all. Tried everything a thousand times. But what’s the one thing they’ve never experienced?
Death.
I think I’ve come close to death a time or two. Enough to know that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, there’s relief from the endless sameness. But then you miss out on those rare errant sparks of interest.
Like these dragon quests.
But after a while, I became invested. Perhaps the interest arose when you started joining, then taking over, the quests. What really intrigued me was how the dragons broke out of the Celestial Realm. Starting with how the Black Dragon, Erebu, broke in.
It’s unheard of. It’s supposed to be impossible!
And then I thought: what else is impossible that is actually possible? If dragons can break the Jade Emperor’s rules, why can’t I? (Without the dire consequences for once).
So, I found the Jewel of Dreams; I already had the Song of Destiny. I made them into rings so I could disguise their power and easily take them with me when I made my own escape.
I didn’t know that leaping through the Mirror Pond would turn me into a mortal. And in three separate bodies! Plain, average ones to boot. The gall of it. The Old Man must be laughing his ass off.
Well, my powers had dwindled precipitously after everything that happened across our long acquaintanceship. Losing the rest of it barely phased me at all.
You asked me whether I am friend or foe.
I want to be friend. I want to help. I don’t know exactly why. I just feel I should.
Tomorrow, if you agree, I can show you the rings. Maybe they will impart wisdom to you that they haven’t yet to me. They did inspire me to guide you and your friends on your quests, however. The two rings worked in tandem.
I can also answer any other questions you have to the best of my ability. We can put our considerable intellects together and debate more theories.
And I know this will be business, not pleasure, but…
I still have to ask: Will you grant me a date tomorrow? In between the theorizing? There’s no reason we can’t kill two birds with one stone.
I crave you to the depths of my world-weary soul.
Emphatically,
Seven
(P.S. I dreamed of them last night. Running free in an ancient forest. I wish I had a way to capture the beauty of them at play. Please accept this humble attempt.)
Ben picked up Seven’s gift that was laid right outside his door, just like before.
It was an entire tableau of paper origami trees, grass and exotic flowers. Two white tigers were suspended in mid-leap in the middle of it. The big one looking indulgently back at the much smaller one, who tilted its head up with a happy grin.
It must have taken her hours to construct this. And Ben spent at least an hour himself simply studying the miraculous creation from every angle.
At last, he sat on the couch with his head back, eyes closed, the origami theater held reverently in his lap.
It was getting harder and harder to resist her.
To resist his own needs and wants.
Something had to give.