Chapter 1 Isha #2
Her eyes, no longer denying me, seem to cut into me to trace my gold-lined veins all the way to my heart, stabbing it through, reading the bleeding truth written within my flesh.
To not have to take, but to be given what I’m owed.
And yet how can she see this desire buried so deeply inside?
Feeling exposed makes a long-held rage build within me, but I keep it under tight control, letting nothing show on my face.
Desire and control. Always in balance. I allow only a sardonic curve to my mouth. She stares at my lips.
As for her, her desire is plain—out of control. Ready for my control.
“You’re not what I expected,” I admit, a hint of approval in my tone. I thought she would only come kicking and screaming, but here she is, giving herself to me.
Not that I trust such a gift.
Her cheeks flush a delicate pink hue with her red mortal blood, and yet her own words are appraising. “You’re not exactly what I expected, either.”
“And what did you expect?” I ask, curious rather than disapproving of her audacity, even as I loom over her.
She purses her lips, and it’s my turn to stare at her mouth. Her tone is light, despite what she says. “A terrible countenance? A fearsome disposition? Dreadful seriousness, at the very least.”
Oh, I can be terrible and fearsome, but only in their proper place, so it’s the latter I address. “Why would I be so somber?”
“You do realize where you live, don’t you?”
My laughter in response is genuine. Even locked in the confines of my arms, she smiles tentatively up at me.
How she’ll amuse me before I’m done with her.
“Then you must realize I might as well enjoy myself wherever I am, especially since I have all the time in the world. As for you, I also expected less agreeability. But are you truly willing?” My voice sharpens with the threat it holds.
“Why should I believe you wish to hurt him, save for giving me the ring I’ve already taken? ”
She shrugs and seats herself upon the counter, such a casual gesture in the face of my presence, akin to tossing a handful of petals into a bottomless pit just to see how they fall.
I can’t help but admire her even as I feel the urge to consume her.
At least she treads carefully with her words—a balancing act above a deadly drop.
“I don’t exactly wish to hurt him, but… Perhaps I’m tired of his attempts to play a god when the daemon fit him so much better.
Perhaps I crave the darkness that he relinquished.
Darkness, I see, you have in abundance.” Her gaze now traces the length of me boldly, no longer cutting but caressing, and then flutters around us like a bird in a cage.
If it’s an act, it’s well done. “I feel trapped by this simple life he’s built for us.
These walls don’t fit either of us terribly well.
This is comfortable, yes, but bland. Pain is pleasure to me. It’s flavor.”
She likes strong flavors. I heard the whispers, even among the gods, and now I know it to be true. She’s right to suspect that I do as well.
But pain is also power, for her. And if she honestly believes Deonyus has fled his darkness instead of fed it, she’s a fool. And I don’t believe she’s a fool.
All I ask is, “So you would exchange your walls for mine?”
“I imagine yours are bigger,” she says with another smirk. It drops away, and she adds in seriousness, “While he’s merely playing at godhood, you’re not—however charming your smiles.”
I shake my head, only partially managing to cast off her compliment. At least I don’t grant her another smile. “No, Sadaré, I’m not playing. But what game are you about, hm?” I chuck her under the chin with the fold of my knuckle.
She holds my gaze evenly. “None. You have more to offer me. More than even the daemon he once was.”
I’m well aware of how much more luxury I could afford her than this simple stone house, decorated as it is with woven rugs to lend it paltry warmth and surrounded by rows of heavy grapevines to mask its smallness.
How much more pain I could give her. How much more power, though it would be entirely subject to me.
I could even give her back her arm. Complete with another cuff.
And if I were also a mortal fool, I might be convinced of her willingness, even eagerness, to belong to me.
A part of me still wants to believe her—the part that’s all too godlike, vain and susceptible to obsequious flattery.
Perhaps it’s for the best, then, that I’ve long been despised as a god and learned to distrust such things.
“I’m more to your taste, you mean? But I must warn you, as an old god, I’m quite particular myself—an upholder of the divine order, if you will. The very antithesis of your boy god.” I pause with heavy meaning. “I have rules you must follow.”
“I can follow rules,” she says with a touch of defiance, the irony of which seems to escape her.
“Can you?” My doubt makes her lips slant in a frown.
Good, she wants to prove herself to me. Which is a step closer to wanting my approval.
She’s already seemed to respond well to it, so I’m happy to give her smiles and praise if she obeys.
And if she doesn’t, I’m equally happy to give her more pain than she could ever want.
But one step at a time. “Very well, here’s a rule: If I accept your trade and take you instead of him, you must forget this life. You must drink of my waters.”
The trade is unfair since I already intended to take her in place of Daesra, and she would have to drink anyway. But she’s offering me what I already have, so I’ll repay her with equal consideration.
Her body recoils once more, even though her voice is fierce. “I’ve already been forced to forget myself once. To become someone else—him—in a god’s game. No games between us. If you want me to come willingly, I keep my memory.”
I bark a laugh. “Once again, you reveal how little you have to bargain. If I made you forget, you would soon become willing anyway. I can tell.” I quote her own words back at her with dark amusement.
“It’s in your nature. And all of us—from mere mortals to the highest of the gods—must adhere to our own natures. ”
“That wouldn’t be true willingness on my part,” she insists. “You can’t make bow what you’ve already broken in half. It wouldn’t be me. And I would want to be myself… with you.”
The resistance, as well as the promise in her words, sends delicious anticipation rippling through me, though I chase it with calm.
She’s not lying, exactly, but she’s not speaking the full truth.
“A pretty plea, but all who pass into my realm must forget their lives unless they’ve earned remembrance.
” I tilt my head to the side as if pondering what I’ve already decided.
“But to forget yourself entirely would be to lose your flavor, indeed. And perhaps it’s one I would like to taste.
You can earn the preservation of your memory from me. By serving me.”
Her voice is breathy as she says, “I thought I didn’t interest you. I thought you only wished to hurt him.”
I duck my head at her. “Come, Sadaré, allow me to possess two desires in one. Did you think I would bring you to my realm and grant you free rein, with the sole goal of tormenting Daesra? I may be an old god, but trust that I’m neither carved of stone nor simple in my design.”
She’s only one more step in my path to Daesra—if nearly the final and most critical—but there’s amusement to be had in toying with one’s food.
“No. You’re not simple.” She bites her lip briefly, and I can almost feel it under my own teeth.
Soon.
“A rule bent, then,” I say, my fingers tracing up her arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake, “just for you—just this once—in return for your willingness to bend to me. After which you must follow all my rules obediently or face punishment.” I pause, letting her attend me.
I would have her waiting on my every word.
“And here’s the first rule: You must forget him, at least. Not immediately, but eventually. ”
When she hesitates, I say, my voice lightly mocking, “A blessing, no, since you were forced to become him? Since you just complained of his too-light touch? If I’m to believe you truly no longer care for him, if I’m to truly taste you in return, then I want your unadulterated flavor sooner or later, unspoiled by him.
” I cup her cheek, lifting her chin into a less stubborn tilt and her eyes to mine.
I lean in close, my own lips nearly touching the lobe of her ear, the delicate rim of flesh tempting my tongue as I whisper, “Face it, my dear. You’re mine already.
You know what I will do to you to taunt him. What you will allow me to do to you.”
Her eyes flash up to me, a flare of anger overcoming that deeper current of pleasure that I glimpse once more in those green depths. “Who’s to say what I’ll allow?”
I pull back only enough to stare down at her, a smile spreading slowly across my face. “You’ll beg me for it.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, which she quickly swallows. “Knowing me…” She doesn’t finish, but when she meets my gaze once more, unflinching, still defiant, there is a pull between us, drawing her toward me as inexorably as a river to the sea. “Fine,” she says. “I agree.”
I surprise myself by speaking the words aloud this time. “I may very well enjoy this.”
She squares her shoulders. “Then take me as you wish.”
And so, I do.