Chapter 34
Envy
Fuck. It happened in a way it never has before. Fates almighty, they’ve been missing out. He’s been a fool for millennia, taking every moment for granted.
Armed with this second chance, Envy wants to do and say shit out of character. He wants to spoil Sorrow, make her come at least two dozen times, and keep her in this spot, hoarding the goddess like a treasure. He wants to learn more about this all-consuming feeling and figure out how it works.
Barely cognizant of where the fuck to start, Envy swaggers up behind Sorrow, pausing as she contemplates the blurry landscape beyond the waterfall. Encircling her middle, he flirts, “I’ve always liked gray hair.”
She tenses, then curls into him. “I bet you have.”
Funny. He would’ve expected a snide reply or a caress of his forearms, something either typical or intimate. Well, it’s all new, and they’ll improve over time.
Envy confirms for Sorrow the details of their escape, including Echo’s help, Siren’s message, and that unnamed moppet’s assistance. Then Envy wheels Sorrow around, locking her in his embrace and hissing, “What did they do to you?”
“You’ve seen it,” she says, referring stoically to the ladder of cuts. “They wanted to know how we got here, who’s with us, and where they are.” She dissects his lack of reply. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I told them?”
“No,” is all he says.
Not only is he too busy counting how many limbs he’ll rip from the rulers’ bodies for touching Sorrow, but Envy also doesn’t need to ask what she told The Court.
Injuries aside, she would never betray their crew.
They mean too much to her, as does this crusade.
That’s why she rescued Love’s iron weapons, because she won’t turn her back on any of them.
Had she taken action for Envy too? Flung herself into harm’s way to protect him?
Yes, she had. By some intuitive connection, Envy had felt this truth merely from the way Sorrow shared her body with him. The primal arch of her back, her hands gripping his ass, her lips clinging to his, her pussy rippling softly around his cock. Stars almighty, the sex had been transcendent.
However, the magnitude of the past few hours has since dissipated, a new vulnerability emanating from Sorrow. In fact, she flinches at the implication that he doesn’t need explanations, no details about her conference with The Court, other than whom to crucify on her behalf.
Envy cradles her jaw. “I trust you.”
For some reason, his words accomplish the opposite of what he’d hoped. Those silver irises flicker, the affirmation haunting her.
Well, fine. She’s no more used to these unconditional declarations than he is.
Regardless of how they hit the ground running when she awoke, how they pounced on each other and fucked like fanatics, they need to pace themselves.
Despite Envy’s desire to mash Sorrow against the nearest facade and grind his cock into her waiting cunt again, and again, and again, best to get control of his sex drive before it sends them off a cliff.
This, in addition to everything happening north of his dick. Chiefly, the sight of her somber features and the vise grip it has on his chest.
Envy strokes his thumb across Sorrow’s cheek, smoothing out the rough edges. “All I want to know is what happens next.”
She leans into his touch. “I want that too.”
“I would say this is the sexiest truce in the history of truces.” He levels her with a serious expression. “I’m all in, if you are.”
There it is again. That glimpse of uncertainty diluting Sorrow’s expression, her features wincing. “Envy, I—”
“Well, I’ll be fate-fucked.”
They spring apart. Swinging toward that diabolical voice, they come face-to-face with six flabbergasted figures.
Love, with her black wings smudged in dirt and her mouth agape.
Andrew, his white hair a beacon as he expels a ragged breath.
Anger, his turbulent features slack for once.
Merry, in her bedraggled tulle frock, beaming at the scene as if she’s waltzed into the pages of a romance novel.
Wonder, with her verdant green eyes sparkling, those hopeful features lifting into a grin.
Malice, trussed up in devilish leather and smirking as if he knows exactly what shenanigans Envy and Sorrow have been up to. For good measure, and because he has fun being an asshole, the cocksucker leers as though watching a holographic porno come to vivid life.
“Look at you two, doing the immortal walk of shame,” the demon god congratulates them.
“Kindreds!” Merry chirps, racing across the divide, her pink ponytail bouncing.
She flings her arms around Envy and Sorrow, squishing them against her.
“I’m dizzy with glee.” Flouncing back to give them air, Merry seizes their hands.
“How we’ve searched high and low for you after being torn asunder! ”
“You guys are one hell of a sight for sore eyes,” Andrew says.
Everyone embraces, their voices overlapping with inquiries. Relief filters through Sorrow’s expression, yet the enthusiasm sits awkwardly on her face, as if the reaction doesn’t quite fit and she can’t fully enjoy this moment. Not when some other troubling notion is fighting for her attention.
Envy frowns. One might go so far as to say the crew’s presence troubles the goddess.
Nonetheless, Sorrow covers it up well, and Envy shakes off the misgivings.
It’s likely due to everything that’s happened since the separation.
From her captivity and torture to the copious amounts of orgasms she and Envy traded, fucking to the point where his cock almost broke, the poor specimen in dire need of a sling.
On that score, it’s a marvel Sorrow is capable of walking straight. And this isn’t counting the tender words they had exchanged in private. At any rate, this is uncharted ground for them, so he must be misinterpreting, and she’s merely frazzled.
Sorrow glances at everyone. “How did you know where we were?”
“Can’t you guess?” To mollify the tension, Envy flashes his teeth. “My charm and animal magnetism lured them here. The frequency is just that strong. All they had to do was follow the path to greatness.”
“Or the path to bullshit,” Malice says.
“Or pretension,” Wonder amends.
“Or snobbery,” Love suggests.
“I second all of these options,” Andrew deadpans.
“I do not,” Anger grunts. “Appraising Envy’s shortcomings is a waste of time.”
“That’s because you’re jealous, hon,” Envy jibes, to which the rage god flings his eyes skyward.
During a break in the conversation, Sorrow hastens to retrieve the iron archery. She hands it to Love, who accepts the weapons in astonishment. Since it’s clear Sorrow isn’t going to expand on the matter, Envy takes it upon himself to convey what Sorrow went through to get the longbow and quiver.
Meanwhile, Sorrow and Love stare at each other. The latter goddess gives Sorrow a wobbly smile as she tucks the archery against her, then kisses Sorrow’s cheek.
Once the shock of the tale subsides, Anger interjects, “How about a trade?” He produces Sorrow’s archery with a mild grin. “Like you, they don’t go down easily.”
“Anger rescued the weapons after you went overboard,” Merry rhapsodizes as Sorrow accepts the longbow with a humbled expression. “He dove in to save both of you, but you had vanished, so he braved the rapids and saved the archery instead, preventing them from sinking to a dismal end.”
“Pure luck,” Anger informs Envy. “I tried to find your archery too. It tumbled from the boat, but visibility was scarce.” He glimpses the set of glass arrows resting in the alcove. “Though, it appears you sniffed the weapons out on your own.”
Envy recaps the past seventy-two hours, omitting the smutty parts when he and Sorrow went feral. Even so, Anger grimaces as if the concept of Envy and Sorrow stuck together is cataclysmic.
Sorrow gives an abbreviated report about their rulers, being captured, and the subsequent interrogation. Is it just Envy, or does he detect a note of contrition in her voice?
No, it’s not just him. One mastermind of subtext notices as well.
Malice tilts his shrewd head. Surveying the goddess, the demon god’s ashy eyes glitter like a set of polished switchblades.
The crew take turns breaking down their excursion. After the rapids, they washed up on another side of the cliff and discovered a conduit, which was their only option, since none of them are as familiar with this summit as Envy.
Battered and bruised, they rested and then sought an outlet or lookout point, a place where they could search for Envy and Sorrow. Or at least locate the path leading to their original destination.
Neither had panned out. They sojourned for three days before stumbling upon the waterfall enclave hours ago. From there, they located the cavern and recognized the signs of Envy’s residency. Essentially, the hollow filled with his wardrobe tipped them off.
By then, Envy and Sorrow were gone and dealing with The Fate Court. On a hunch, the crew had backtracked through the enclave, suspecting Envy and Sorrow might be nearby. It appears the belly of this cliff has a number of arteries beyond what Envy had comprehended.
“We might’ve found you two sooner, if the grumpy god to my left hadn’t bitched about taking the east tunnel instead of west,” Malice remarks, then erects his index finger, its nail as sharp as a talon. “I sayeth, we went round and round more times than a fucking prayer circle.”
“Will you please let that shit go?” Anger snaps, as if they’d been over this more than once.
“Sorry, mate.” Malice levels him with a devil-may-care grin. “Beating that dead horse is what you get for not listening to me—or Wonder, or Andrew, or Love. It’s also what you get for turning down my original Graffiti-the-Palace idea.”
Ah, yes. Prior to entering The Dark Fates, Malice had suggested that as some form a military tactic, the logic making sense only to him.
But because he’s Malice, no one had been able to gauge whether he’d been serious or not.
Either way, Anger had shot down the proposal, to which Malice had branded him a “cockless killjoy.”
One guess how the rage god responded.
As for their outlook, everyone agrees. Although The Court knows of their presence, it doesn’t change the plan. Sorrow hadn’t given anything away, after all.
Envy had intended to sail his boat with her to Fortune’s Crest. From the enclave, there’s a waterway that will take them there. However, the vessel isn’t big enough for everyone, which means they’re traveling on foot.
They clean themselves up, drink their fill from the waterfalls, enchant fresh garments, and set forth.
Skirting sideways through a passage that spares them from getting drenched by the cascades, they emerge into another cavity.
Eventually, it connects with the secret groove—naughty Siren, keeping this from Envy—and deposits them into the enclave.
At Envy’s direction, the crew hikes along one of the bridges. From there, they bypass baths and torrents leading to multiple niches.
Merry whispers with Anger. Love and Andrew play a guessing game to distract themselves. Malice and Wonder theorize on all things legendary.
During an awkward silence, Envy brushes his fingers against Sorrow’s hip and attempts to tease the goddess. Yet her spine goes rigid.
To the rest of the crew, her attitude is business as usual.
To him, it’s something else entirely.