Chapter 2 #3
Without warning, and without brains, Love and Andrew do the same.
The goddess abandons her weapons and jumps on him.
He catches her against a body hewn from marble—physically he’s one impressive human—the pair checking each other for bruises.
Satisfied that the other is in one piece, their mouths crash together.
Based on that ferocious kiss, if they were alone Love’s skirt would be hiked around her naked hips by now.
Seriously? Malice and Wonder too?
By the time Sorrow glances their way, they’ve already puckered up.
Wonder has vacated her branch and relinquished her longbow in favor of a smooch that’s simultaneously vicious and possessive.
Malice grasps the roots of Wonder’s hair, and Wonder clutches his nape, the wildflower scars on her hands straining as she and her demon go at it.
Their tongues wrestle so deeply, they must be licking each other’s tonsils.
Although these embraces are sexy as hell, they’re also unnerving.
Affection is a contagion, each couple in attendance proving that when opposites attract, they turn stupid.
It must suck to love someone that much, to become sick with worry, to become so protective it leads to foolish actions.
It makes zero sense, this sentimental bullshit.
And yet. It’s… nice to see them happy.
A piercing sensation assaults Sorrow’s gut, the weight of Envy’s gaze not helping matters.
As someone who gets off on all things smutty, that he’s not ogling the spectacle around them is a testament to the altitude at which he’s hovering.
The pre-sex fondling between each pair must be difficult to register from such an elevation.
However, that doesn’t justify why he’s fixating on Sorrow. A quick glimpse reveals his pupils flaring like storm clouds, the discovery producing a feverish itch across Sorrow’s flesh. She clears her throat, then does it again.
Finally, the lovers untangle themselves.
Molars clenching, Anger swipes his bow off the ground and jabs it toward Sorrow’s naked tits. “Do I want to know?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she dismisses. “I went skinny dipping.”
“And unfortunately, I went in the same direction,” Envy remarks before jumping off his branch. “Alas, fate has a perverse sense of humor.”
“Gracious, how romantic,” Merry swoons. “A rendezvous in the midst of our quest. A secretive, unbridled moment between—”
“We should be so lucky, dearest,” Wonder quips.
“Speak for yourself,” Envy objects.
“It wasn’t a booty call,” Sorrow stresses. “It was the passionate equivalent of a fender bender.”
Nonetheless, Wonder ceases listening. She tilts her head toward The Stars and consults their pulsating light as if something is hiding within the constellations.
Malice coils a lock of the goddess’s hair around his finger. A raspy tenor slithers from his lips. “Hmm. If you ask me—”
“Only if we have a death wish,” Anger bites out.
“—we should all be fighting with our cunts and cocks exposed. Imagine how much added destruction we could do if we fought like bare-assed heathens. I’d like to be a heathen for a day.”
“As opposed to your angelic self?” Love quips, wiping dirt from her plumage.
“Tsk, tsk.” Malice raises a digit, his taloned fingernail stabbing the air. “Didn’t you know? Devils are wingless cherubs in disguise. It’s the ones with feathers we need to be careful around.”
Love narrows her maroon eyes. “I’ll show you careful.”
“I certainly hope you will. Now that I’ve been accepted into the crew, I’m having withdrawals from the lack of hostility.”
“Guys,” Andrew draws out while peering at the woods.
Wonder hands Malice his leather jacket. “Get dressed, Demon.”
“Only this once, Wildflower.” Dutifully, he thrusts his bare arms through the garment, the open flaps displaying more abs than a titan, then waggles his brows at Wonder, who suppresses a bashful grin.
“That goes for you as well,” Anger barks at Sorrow, sweeping his hand up and down her form. “Do something about this situation.”
“I second the motion,” Envy says, a subtle bite to his tone.
“Guys,” Andrew hisses, raising his bow.
What the hell is his problem? Sorrow would ask, but the way Envy grimaces at her breasts and pussy drives a knife through her tongue. “Aww, I’m sorry,” she singsongs. “Are you prudes talking to me?”
“No, we’re talking to the invisible goddess behind you,” Anger grunts.
Envy puffs himself up like a thoroughbred, his chest expanding all over the forsaken place. “I’m no prude, I’m a whore. Get your facts straight. Now do as Papa Anger said and put on those drab, witchy clothes of yours.” He gestures at her hair. “Without them, you look like a gray sewer rat.”
“And you look like an asshole, dressed in the suit of a prick, with the grin of a dickhead,” Sorrow compliments.
“That’s more words than you’ve said in nearly three thousand years.”
“And it’s more words than you can spell.”
“Make them stop,” Wonder pleads to no one in particular.
“No!” Love objects. “Let them keep going. Look what’s happening.”
Happily, she indicates Anger, who scrubs his face in abject misery. Go figure, since the goddess has always enjoyed antagonizing him.
It would be effortless to point out how often Envy has relished tearing those “drab, witchy clothes” off Sorrow. But that would remind him of their affair, a bygone era she doesn’t plan to reminisce about.
Sorrow snaps her fingers, a cloud of badass black instantaneously wrapping around her body, outfitting her in a vest, shredded skirt, and combat boots. Envy can think what he wants. She likes her style, and she doesn’t need anybody’s approval to wear—
“For fuck’s sake,” Andrew snarls while aiming at the forest. “Guys, tell me you know how things usually happen in threes.”
When the crew squints, he elaborates. “In fiction—especially in fairytales—events occur in counts of three. Herons that come out of nowhere. Children who come out of nowhere.”
“Clues in plain sight,” Malice and Wonder interpret.
“I was going to say repetition,” Andrew corrects. “Which implies foreshadowing.”
“So?” Anger and Merry question.
“So while I’m shit at math, I have some practice writing fantasy. In which case, herons and children only count as two.”
Alarm grips Love’s features. In a flash, she follows his lead and nocks her longbow, along with Wonder and Sorrow.
“Let me put it another way,” Andrew murmurs through his teeth. “Deities can’t have kids. However, kids birthed from The Stars have mentors. Just a quick reminder of your own world-building.”
Silence. Awareness. Idiocy.
Leave it to an erstwhile mortal who pens fiction to call their culture into question.
Therefore, Andrew is the only one who hadn’t let his tactical guard down, who’d pointed out the obvious.
Their crew had been arguing like novices, when they should have been fleeing. Or at least targeting the woods.
The forest shifts in tandem to an army of swiftly moving bodies charging this way. Whether innocent or not, those children had been exploring the woods, toying with a band of insurgents. And like all youths, they do indeed have mentors.
Guardians who eventually go looking for them.