Chapter 17
Seeing a young Agnes was more than a little startling.
Everyone at the dining room table froze when she walked in.
Clearly, it was her. She still had the same features and facial expression and voice, but she was now a stunning beauty.
Even her grandson hadn’t known what to say as he looked at the woman who had to be his grandmother.
Jessamine had watched food fall out of the poor man’s mouth before she’d caught her laugh with her hand.
Sybil had been no better, and when the two of them looked at each other, it made their giggles all the worse.
But then she’d seen Elric’s expression and all of it felt… strange. He was smiling at them, certainly. There was a grin on his face as he’d lifted his mug of coffee to his mouth, but there was something off about his eyes. As though he wasn’t entirely there.
Jessamine followed him for the better part of a day after that before she realized what was wrong. And she was going to do something about it.
Elric wasn’t himself. Not after adding Agnes to the coven and not after Elissa either.
She’d only seen a few of his memories regarding witches, but she knew they weren’t good.
His own power had tried to sabotage him by forcing her to see some of his history, as though what he’d been through made him weak.
And that wasn’t something that was all that easy to get over.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she knocked on the door to his bedroom. It took a few knocks before she could hear him rustling about, and then the door opened. “Nightmare,” he said, his voice pitched low as though he’d been sleeping. “What are you doing up?”
“I want you to come with me, if you don’t mind.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
His gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing on her. She knew she’d piqued his interest, now she just needed to get him to agree to do whatever she wanted. Which… really wasn’t that hard with Elric, if she was being honest.
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her. “You know I don’t like surprises, nightmare.”
“Well, I think you’re going to like this one. It will be good to get out of the house.”
“And here I was thinking Agnes had told us not to leave until she’d gotten all the details figured out. And aren’t you supposed to have a fitting this evening with some fancy dressmaker to make you look like you fit in here?”
“I genuinely couldn’t care less.” Jessamine reached for his hand, tugging him out into the hallway. “Besides, no one tells us what we can and cannot do. You’re a god. I’m your gravesinger. If we want to head out onto the streets, then we will.”
He followed her with that bemused smile on his face, and she never let go of his hand. Together, they snuck out of the back and onto the street. It was late, and very few people were still about, but they stuck to the shadows just in case.
“Jessamine,” he started.
“Not yet.”
“Where are we going?”
“My favorite place in all of the Pleasure District. I was so excited when I found out it was still open, and I just had to bring you.”
His hand squeezed hers, and he let out a huffing laugh. “If you wanted to bring me to a brothel, you only had to ask.”
“Elric.”
This time he did laugh, and the sound bubbled out of him with such mirth that it spread to her as well.
At least he could still laugh. At least he still found some hilarity in all that they had done, even if he was nervous about giving people more power as well.
She had given him that, and for now it would be enough.
Finally, they slipped from the streets to a massive building stretching high above all the others, surrounded by white columns. It was a monolithic beast compared to the other buildings around them, overpowering everything in size and stature.
“What is this place?” he asked, staring around them in awe before following her as she headed up the stairs.
“You’ll see.”
“Jessamine.” His tone was cajoling now.
“You really don’t like surprises, do you?
” She was slightly out of breath from running up the stairs, but turned her back to the door to give him one last look.
Bright red flushed his cheeks where he showed only the slightest state of exertion.
His lips were parted with surprise, but his eyes still watched her, just staring at her as though she was the wildest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“I hate them,” he said, bracing his arm on the door above her head and leaning into her. “But I have found that I very much enjoy your delight, gravesinger.”
“Good.”
Jessamine shoved the door open and sent all the prayers she could think of that the temple would be empty.
It was, after all, quite late. Very few people brought offerings to the gods at all, and this place was mostly used as a museum rather than an actual temple these days.
She was lucky enough that it was empty, although there were still a few incense bowls burning with sacrifices.
The temple was exactly as she remembered it.
Eight-foot-tall carvings of all the gods lined the entire room.
A wall of them, all twenty that had once existed.
Each one had a massive space around it, with individual mosaics on the floor that were hand laid with tiny chips of gems. Every single god had one, each with their own sacrifices from people who visited them.
The first was, of course, the God King. He was massive and tall, wearing his armor like in every depiction of him that she’d ever seen.
But in this carving, he had laid his sword at his feet, and instead stood with his arms crossed over that barrel chest. He was lit by braziers that hung from the ceiling.
They filled the room with a strange flickering ambiance that made it feel as though one needed to be quiet when entering this space.
Jessamine breathed in the scent of incense and felt the warmth crawling up her arms. The temple had always felt peaceful to her with its silent halls, like the building was holding its breath.
“Is this where you came to worship?” Elric asked, his footsteps echoing as he started down the line of statues.
“My mother worshipped more than I ever did. She was the one who had the proclivities toward the gods. I…” She paused when he looked back at her with a bemused expression. “I never found the right god to worship.”
“Interesting.” He arched a brow before meandering again. He clasped his hands behind his back, pausing to look at every single statue.
Jessamine let him take his time. Part of her wondered how long it had been since he’d seen a depiction of his siblings while they were still alive.
After all, the other statues were usually destroyed when a god died.
Even the witches had removed part of the statues and filled the remains with flowers or moss.
But these statues were pristine. They were exactly how the gods had looked when they were alive, if the artists were to be believed.
“Who did your mother worship?” he asked.
“The Wizened Crone.” She paused in front of the old woman’s statue. She was a bent-backed lady with a cane who stared down at everyone with a disappointed expression on her face.
“Ah, the mother of wisdom. It is no surprise the queen worshipped her. Her followers always thought themselves better than even the scholars of my sister the Inquisitive One, because their knowledge was boundless and unending.” He snorted.
“She only let them gather information about the things she didn’t care if they knew.
She kept her secrets for only the most loyal. ”
“All the gods seemed to have their favorites.”
“All of us did.” Then his expression turned sly. “Do you know where my statue is?”
Of course she did. It was the first thing that she had looked for when she entered all those years ago. The Deathless One had always intrigued her, or perhaps scared her. A god for only witches, very select in who was even allowed to worship him.
“I remember there were many who refused to even walk by your statue,” she said, striding past him down the long rows.
“They had to move it, you know. You were in the middle for a very long time, but then they placed you all the way down here because people were afraid to speak in front of your visage.”
“You know how I love flattery.”
“I thought you’d like that.” The smile on her face felt permanent as she walked over to his statue.
It was obviously much larger than he was, but his features were very similar.
The artist had done a good job capturing his smirk.
They’d carved him with his hand outstretched, as though he was waiting for someone to take it and allow him to draw them into the darkness.
He had longer hair then, though. The statue’s hair was tied behind his neck, a few locks falling around his features, just enough to barely hide the eyes that had been carefully chiseled to place obsidian chips in them.
“Here you are,” she said, staring up at the statue. “Do you know how many women I heard walk by this statue and claim that you were the most handsome god here?”
“I’m sure my brothers rolled in their graves every single time it happened.” He leaned closer to her, his breath fanning across her neck. “Take my hand.”
“Elric. It’s just a statue.”
“Then it shouldn’t mean anything to take its hand.”
But that childish part of her that was terrified of the statue trembled. Yet, it was him. The statue was only an extension of the god she trusted, and she had no reason to fear it. Still, her fingers shook as she reached up toward the outstretched hand.
“Why do you want me to do this?” she asked, her palm hovering over the cold stone.
“Trust me.” His words seemed to echo around her. The brazier above the statue flickered with power, as though the shadows were already threatening to drown the flame out. What light should ever exist when he was here?
Her palm came down on the icy stone. For a moment, nothing happened, but then she could feel the stone take life. Fingers curled around hers, and the statue straightened. It pulled her toward the hard visage of the man she adored and spun her around.
Gasping, she found her back pressed against the statue with its arm firmly locked around her chest. She couldn’t move.
Not if she wanted to. Her arms were pinned at her sides, and she was forced to look down at where the living Elric stood with his hands in his pockets.
He looked up at her with hungry eyes, and she knew he was about to desecrate this temple.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“I just like seeing you pinned.” He stepped up the small podium at the base of the statue, putting her at eye level with him. “Now what am I going to do with this nightmare I’ve found in my temple?”
“Elric?” she breathed.
She had no idea what he was going to do with her now that he’d quite literally used himself to hold her in place. But her heart fluttered with excitement and her breath was ragged as she watched his eyes trail over her entire body.
“Delicious,” he murmured, before sinking to his knees before her.
How sacrilegious it was to see him kneel like that, worshipping at his own altar as though he had forgotten he was the god.
Elric shoved aside a few burning bowls of incense and a bundle of crumpled flowers a pitying soul had left a few days ago.
They tumbled onto the ground, the metal bowls clanging and rolling for what felt like forever, until silence descended upon them.
“There is no greater worship of a god than giving him your body.” He reached for her ankle, drawing her skirts up slowly to reveal first one long leg, then the other.
She could feel his breath against her inner thighs. The panting puffs of air let her know he was just as affected by this as her. She gripped the stone arm wrapped around her chest, breathing out slowly as he lifted one of her legs and braced it on his shoulder.
“Elric—”
“If you are going to say anything, it should be to grace this temple with the cries of your pleasure, Jessamine. Anything else I will punish you for.”
She pitched her voice low as he pressed a kiss just to the left of where she wanted him most. “Won’t the other gods be able to hear? Even if they are dead?”
He looked up at her from beneath her skirts, their gazes meeting with passion and heat. “I want them to hear, nightmare.”
And then he devoured her.
With lips, teeth, and tongue, he sank into her body without mercy.
She might have held on for a while, drowning in the pleasure without having a single cry drop from her lips.
But he didn’t give her the chance. From his hands gripping her thigh wrapped around his neck, to the plunging tongue that sank into her body, she could hardly stand.
His stone figure kept her upright, though. And when she tilted her head back, she stared up into the stone face and knew there was no other god she would ever worship.
He sank his fingers inside of her, curling them just so, and she saw stars behind her eyes that only a god could have birthed. No temple had ever been desecrated so thoroughly, and yet she found prayers still dripping from her lips.
Prayers for more.
Invocations of need.
Moans that fell from her lips like hymns.
Supplication in the form of spread thighs and whimpered desire as the sounds of their pleasure filled the temple. Wet, slick sounds that were just as sacrilegious as they were the purest form of worship.
His stone statue shifted again, and she barely would have noticed if she didn’t hear him grind out, “Open your mouth, nightmare.”
She did, tilting her head back without question before fingers slipped between her lips. Cold, stone fingers that slowly felt warm as she sucked on them, and he groaned with her at the sensation.
She tightened, every muscle in her tensing as an orgasm rippled through her in wave after wave of excruciating pleasure that had her babbling out his name. And then he rose, standing from between her thighs as she shuddered in the endless pleasure that still ran throughout her entire body.
His face was wet with her desires. The statue shifted, freeing her mouth from its grip so Elric could grab her by the hair and pull her in for a searing kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, and the hunger that still ran throughout his entire body.
“Perfection,” he growled against her mouth. “Absolute perfection. Now, you will give me more.”