Chapter 12 Envy
Envy
Another marvel occurs. The goddess blinks, her eyes widening with intrigue.
Like everything that has transpired in the past twenty-four hours, Envy hadn’t expected this. Rejection is Sorrow’s forte, and being on the receiving end of a brush-off is an uncommon occurrence for Envy.
By Fates, it takes fossils less time to develop than it does for his companion to reply.
In the meantime, pins and needles jab his skin.
In the past, Envy wouldn’t have given this interlude a second thought.
Tonight, it has a gravity that makes no infernal sense.
But thankfully, he’s got reserves of pride to rely on when she inevitably refuses him.
At least, Envy hopes he’ll be able to recover. These days, he’s not as confident.
Yet she doesn’t snub the offer. Nor does the goddess jump to her feet. Rather, her face crinkles as if he’s giving her no choice.
“Sure,” she says. “Whatever.”
“Well, well, well,” he congratulates himself. “Did I just provide you with an enticement? Fabulous.”
“Envy, I’m tired. Are we going to this ‘place you know’ or not?”
“Liar. You haven’t been tired since I joined you.”
“You’re something else, you know that?”
“Originality was the plan. But that’s a rhetorical question, correct?”
Also, he’s not that colossal of a fool. Trained in the art of covetousness, Envy knows the signs of feigned indifference when he hears, sees, smells, tastes, and feels it.
Many humans conceal this defense mechanism behind masked dismissal, and while deities can’t read each other the same way, his intuition remains on high alert.
Thus, the end result is no different with her.
Sorrow lifts those shapely legs out of the pool, tossing enough water onto the stones to drown a baby seal. How she manages to move slowly yet create a tidal wave is beyond him.
Together, they stand. An awkward pause follows, then he swings his arm ahead, and they trail the footpath back to the cavern. Crossing through, Envy leads Sorrow deep into the hideout, bypassing shimming tunnels and passages that illuminate the space.
They resume their talk, speaking about their homes in the Astral Sea and the places they’ve lived within the mortal realm, including the worst and best of locations. They compare stories about humans they’ve targeted, the power trip and the guilt of it all.
When that becomes too much, they return to the subject of pleasure versus pain.
Though, mostly pleasure. It becomes increasingly easy for Sorrow to elaborate on her favorite sources of enjoyment, branching off from currant nectar to steam billowing from a cup, the glow of a nightlight, and the nutty whiff of bread just out of the oven.
Envy details his own indulgences. Spiced dishes, melted chocolate, and the sight of water splintering against the breakers.
Actually he’s not done. Also, the sound of a cork popping from a champagne bottle, sumptuous bubble baths, the snugness of a well-fitting suit, and the briny spray of seafoam against his cheek.
And sex. Lots of it.
The tight clamp of a goddess’s pussy. The brush of her swollen clit against his cock. The fractured sounds she makes while coming.
If Envy has a specific female in mind, he’s not about to publicize it. Neither is he interested in asking himself why this lineup doesn’t include previous male partners.
Sorrow rolls her eyes at the list. Though, it’s congenial rather than mocking.
“The stars when they’re not shining,” she adds.
“The translucence of glass,” Envy intones.
“The glaze of ice.”
He glances askance at Sorrow. “Humor me. Why did you choose ice arrows?”
“Why did you opt for glass?”
“To see my reflection, of course.”
“Not to see the truth?”
Envy braces his palm against the small of her back, guiding her around a dangerous rift in the floor where fragments of stone have split. “If I recall, you accused me of fearing the truth.”
Gingerly, Sorrow steps around the obstruction. “But our choice of archery elements doesn’t lie.”
“Fine. I like transparency.” He tosses her a swanky grin. “Better yet, I envy it. What about you, smart ass?”
“Ice is the closest I’ll get to temperature. Theoretically, it numbs you from feeling things that are too harsh. It sterilizes them, protecting a person from anguish.”
“Except you said pain is essential.”
“It is. But it’s also essential to survive the pain.”
“Are you referring to humans or yourself?”
“Either applies,” Sorrow acknowledges as they slosh through a puddle. “Do you like them? Humans?”
What Envy likes are the strands of hair that caress her suckable little ears. Matter of fact, he’s getting rather fucking engrossed in them, to the point where he might have their likenesses secretly commissioned on canvas, to mount next to his own self-portrait. Or maybe in place of it.
Of course, Envy would rather cleave off his skilled tongue than confess this aloud. And this female would rather swallow dynamite than receive praise from her social nemesis.
Anyway. Does he like humans?
“I wouldn’t be a member of this crew if I didn’t,” Envy murmurs.
“I wouldn’t have sacrificed my place. I’ll have you know, forsaking popularity among our people is a great sacrifice in favor of rebellion.
But then, it’s worth the risk. If we win this thing with our limbs still attached, monuments will be erected in our name, and literary geniuses will pen retellings.
In my case, the statue will be naked down to its platinum cock, and the retellings will be x-rated. ”
“Naturally, that’s the whole point,” she wisecracks.
“Oh, absolutely,” he exclaims. “Won’t it be marvelous?”
“We have different definitions of glory.”
“I should hope so. Otherwise, our conversations would be dull. We’d talk ourselves into a wall or go in circles, never to discover a thing.”
“We’d also never realize we don’t know a damn thing. Deities like to think they’re wise, but maybe the smartest people are the ones humble enough to admit they’re not smart at all.”
A chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Look at us, getting philosophical like gods. May I speak honestly?”
“As opposed to all the lies you’ve been feeding me tonight?”
She’s teasing again. Two times in one evening. An event worthy of anthologizing in the Archives. Or if not there, maybe Envy will take up journaling as a new hobby, if only to document the occasion, for his eyes only.
Oh, right. She’s waiting for him to continue.
“I think the best of our nature is to be contrary,” Envy says, stalking into a corridor trimmed in platinum foliage. “We’re walking, talking paradoxes, full of ironies and double standards.”
The star flecks beneath Sorrow’s lower eyelashes glint. “In other words, full of shit.”
“In other words, fluid like water. Or more to the point, like humans. Meaning, neither of us should have power over the other. Meaning, I’m here because I want to be. I’m fighting with our crew because I believe in what we’re doing, even if that involves redefining my purpose.”
“Which would be?” she inquires.
“To begin, I’d have to declare what it means to be a deity in the first place,” he muses.
“Maybe it’s a blessing.” Sorrow halts, her hair in disarray around her face. “The clincher is, we’ve misinterpreted what that blessing entails. It could be about embodying magic instead of forcing it on others. Maybe we need to wield that blessing from a different angle.”
That option doesn’t sound half bad, if a tad ambiguous. But then, Envy’s beginning to grasp that life itself is ambiguous.
They reach a second threshold at the opposite end of the cavern. After indicating a narrow lane that stretches from the hollows, he takes the female’s hand and leads her through.
At the contact, a short, low noise gusts from Sorrow’s throat. And fuck almighty, that sound is about to become the soundtrack to his voluntary downfall. Provided he doesn’t get his head out of his shallow ass.
Yet her reaction is nothing compared to the gust of air that vacates her lungs when they emerge into a new setting.
Before them, misted cascades fall into numerous pools and baths, with trees sprouting from the depths.
Paths web through the shrouded environment, arching like bridges over the bodies of water and vanishing around bends.
Don’t look. Do not fucking look.
Fuck it. Envy looks, peek at the goddess’s rapt profile.
Apparently, his tongue has decided to stop working, the appendage gluing itself to the roof of his mouth.
This has less to do with the fetching picture of Sorrow—though, she does look quite pretty when enthralled—and more to do with the hive of bees swarming his gut.
He’s nervous.
“It’s a waterfall enclave,” he explains stupidly.
Sorrow gawks at the scenery. “I’ve never been here.”
Her admiration knocks a few of those bees from his stomach.
“In which case, watch where you step.” He nudges his chin toward a tree trunk neighboring a pond, an X cleaving into the bark, the marking hewn from an arrowhead.
“If you see that, don’t go into the neighboring water or any adjacent area. Do so, and I’ll resent you for life.”
The goddess raises an eyebrow that plainly states, As if you already don’t.
Oh, if she only knew how right—and wrong—she is on that account. Nonetheless, Sorrow waits for an explanation.
“There are riches as well as dangers to be found here,” he says.
“Camouflaged coral reefs that will cut through flesh like a knife through butter; stained-glass eels that coil beneath the surface, blending with the atmosphere until their fangs strike; and water reeds that release a drugging perfume, intoxicating to the point where a victim will stumble over slick terrain and crash into a deadly abyss.”
The nymph appears more perturbed than surprised. “In other words, this innocent stroll you had in mind is actually a trick.”
Envy cringes. They’ve hazed, taunted, and pranked one another to the same spiteful degree over the ages. But honestly, does she believe he’d bring her someplace dangerous purely to fuck with her?
Guilt riddles his insides. Yes, she fucking does.
Well. Once upon a time, that wasn’t exactly farfetched. However, that was before lots of other things happened.
He scans the outcroppings, aware of her eyes on him. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Something in his tone silences the goddess. In his periphery, a rueful blush sneaks up her neck. “Good to know,” she says quietly, a tinge of vulnerability creeping through her voice.
Her intonation straps around his chest and gives a subtle tug.
Unsure what to do with this visceral response, Envy clears his throat.
“Step into the wrong misty corners, and it’ll cloak the jagged rocks, each one sharp enough to shred you like a carrot,” he cautions.
“And one of the pools is not water but liquid glass, though you’d never know it just by looking, which could end bloody if you try submerging yourself. ”
“How do you know all this unless it’s happened to you?” Sorrow questions.
His mouth tilts into a grim line. “Who says it hasn’t?”
He glimpses the shivers trickling across her flesh, though Sorrow nods in comprehension.
When you live for thousands of years, that’s plenty of time to get into trouble.
Besides, every wilderness from here to the mortal realm possesses its share of perils, in addition to marvels. This enclave is no different.
Envy has learned his lesson about which parts to savor and which to avoid. Although he’s memorized each corner and doesn’t need the guidance, the arrow carvings had seemed prudent in case… well, in case he ever brought someone here.
Heedful, Envy guides Sorrow along the walkways. Yet while he’s done a masterful job of labeling every fatal terrain, he knits their fingers together, locking Sorrow to his side, baffled why the hell this gesture feels critical when this female excels at protecting herself.
At a safe cul-de-sac, Envy finally releases the goddess and reclines against a tall rock filigreed in vines. “See? There are sublime areas too.” Mischief slides across his tongue. “Matter of fact, the ancient celestials used to say if you fuck in these waters, you’ll be changed forever. Wanna try?”
The goddess shoves his shoulder. “You knave. Stop ruining this.”
“Does that mean you like what you see?”
“Maybe. I’m still working on my so-called pleasures, remember?”
“Need more help with that?”
“You wish—”
Sorrow yelps when his arm snakes around her waist and tugs her against him. Their chests collide, her breasts mashing into the naked muscles of his torso. “That wish came true once,” he croons into her ear, relishing the way her muscles tense and her eyelids flutter.
He remembers this, how their bodies fit. Fucking Fates, he remembers it well.
Waterfalls crash and toss fog around them. After a pivotal second, Sorrow meets his gaze with a wry aspect of her own.
“Railing me wasn’t a wish,” she declares. “It was a lack of options.”
Envy can’t decipher if the goddess sounds dispirited or pragmatically dismissive. Yet as always with her, spite chews a deep hole into his patience, the result flaring his nostrils.
Back when he discovered Sorrow missing from their camp, when he’d gone to find her, Envy had sworn he was done playing nice. And he hadn’t been lying.
So be it. He swaggers closer to the goddess, primed to strike.