Page 7 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Oakwood and sea salt invade my senses. It’s not unwelcome. I inhale it, letting it fill my lungs, letting it be the strength that allows me to beat back the encroaching fear. My lashes flutter against my cheeks and though there’s movement above me, movement that bends the mattress and dips in strange motions, I find that I can’t keep myself awake any longer.

Fresh tingles wake up the damaged nerves in my back. A thick sort of liquid hits my spine and soaks into the open wounds. A gasp escapes me as I feel the bolting rush of Divinity—someone else’s Divinity—race through me, attaching to the bloodied mess of my muscles. More darkness expands from the corners of my visions.

“What…” I croak out the word, unable to get a full question out as Kalix stops whatever he’s doing. His groin is on top of my ass, I realize. A thick, hard length of what can only be an iron-hard cock presses against the curve of my ass. Why does he have an erection right now of all times?

A mixture of confusion and disgust rolls through me. What the fuck is he doing? How depraved is he? A fresh, different kind of fear bolts through me like an arrow. He wouldn’t…

My body spasms as a blaze of pain wrecks my senses. Hot liquid, far less thick than before, splashes over my back. Kalix covers me with it, from the top of my shoulder blades down to the small of my back. I bow and arch, fighting the misery that consumes me.

My lips part again, a dry scream ripping free.

Then there’s nothing.

Chapter 5

Kalix

There is only one way I know to heal. It’s an old recollection from a long ago class I’d taken when we’d first arrived at the Academy. Something of Divine origin can be offered in the essence of mending mortal flesh. It’s been written in one of our texts, though our Divine instructors had merely glossed over the fact as it’d been made clear that we were not to offer such a thing. Mortals, after all, are born to grow old, to inhale disease, to die. To take that away from them and offer them a piece of our flesh or fluid would be to damn them, though it was never explained why.

Still, if my fluid is what this little mortal needs, then it is what she will get. She has yet to completely show me every piece of her and I cannot see the fire burn in her eyes if she’s dead. Sure, I could crack open her body and root around within her ribcage after her heart has stopped beating, but once gone, a living creature can never be brought back and she’s the only thing that amuses me these days. There’s something about her that has my serpents on edge, as if they sense another beast lying in wait within her, and I want to entice that creature out to play.

I’ve never done it before. Never had a reason or desire to. The Terra lies half-unconscious before me. Despite the moonlight color of her hair, her lashes are charcoal dark as they throw shadows over her cheek with her head turned towards the stone wall. Her back is a shredded mess, even after I cleaned the slices Axlan had made in her flesh.

Thin and thick lines crisscross over what once was a perfect smooth expanse of pale ivory flesh. I stare down at the red marks, her skin flayed open at the sides and curling up and outward, at the blood still leaking from them as I adjust her on the pathetic excuse for a bed in her quarters. That is, if a single closet-sized room with nothing more than a cot, a nightstand, and few other small pieces of furniture all shoved next to each other can be considered ‘quarters.’

My lips twitch with disgust as I cast another look around the darkened space. The last time I’d been here, I’d been so focused on her that I hadn’t given this dusty hovel a second thought.

I bite back the urge to trash the place, tear the door off its hinges, and wreck the walls. Anger curls through my limbs and I find my fingers digging into fists as I restrain myself lest I hurt the one beneath me in my outburst.

Gaze falling, I trace the soft curve of her cheek with my eyes. Then I get on top of her.

The springs of the cot contract, squeaking loudly with the noise as I throw one leg over both of hers and sit back on my haunches, keeping myself slightly above her so as not to give her too much of my weight. Not while she’s hurt. My little mortal doesn’t even flinch—as if she doesn’t hear the bed, as if she hardly feels me rising above her.

Inhaling, I close my eyes and picture her as she had been in the arena. I unfist one hand and reach for my belt with my other. The leather slides from the loops of my trousers easily, and when I unlace the ties, my cock rips free.

Arousal slithers beneath my flesh. Oh, how she’d glared at the three of us. Eyes turned accusingly on Ruen. The arousal skitters as I fist my cock, freezing for a moment. Ruen. My thoughts darken in rage.

No. I shake my head and tighten my hold at the base of my shaft, switching back to her. How she’d looked. A furious queen. She’d practically glowed with the promise of retribution and she hadn’t fought, but she hadn’t been afraid either. There’d been no fear in her eyes as she’d been chained and shoved to her knees. As her tunic and bindings had been torn and cut.

I open my eyes, finding the figure beneath me. My eyes land on the fresh wounds on her back. I swallow a grunt as my fist strokes up and then back down. Up and down. Again and again. Hunger rolls in my gut. Desire. The war of right and wrong was never mine to wage. I’m always on the side of the dark and despicable. Pain and fire. It’s far more interesting here—she is far more interesting to me than any that have come before her.

My hand flies over my cock, reaching the head and cupping over myself as I squeeze once and then begin the descent. I stare at the markings that I know will likely scar. On a body as fragile as hers…

I grit my teeth as the swell of release bubbles up within me. Too soon. Not soon enough. A haze descends over my vision—there and then gone in the blink of an eye. Control. I’m losing control.

The sounds of hissing voices echo in my head. Questions. Thoughts. Curiosity. They want to know about this one. They want to know why she entrances me. So would I. Still, I shove their thoughts back with a violent command.

Later, I order the voices of my familiars. Immediately they back off and once more, I’m able to focus on the woman under me.

Had I wielded that whip, her skin would not be torn so harshly. My free hand hovers over the side of her spine where a particularly brutal lash has opened her skin to the air, revealing muscle beneath. Axlan could have gone harder, could have sliced her down to the bone, but he hadn’t. A small mercy.

I would not have given her any mercy, but I would have made her enjoy it. A groan lodges in my throat as once again, release barrels towards me. Lightning races up my spine. My cock kicks in my grip, the skin drawing tight. Still, she doesn’t move. She is neither awake nor asleep, but somewhere in between.

The grip of my fingers becomes unforgiving. Yes, if I had been the one to punish her so, she would have left with her skin intact, but her mind wrecked. I would have made her question everything she’s ever known of pain, made her crave my callous touch. Each strike would have had her arching to meet me, rising to gift her flesh to mine.

Instead, Ruen had allowed this—I bite down a curse as it threatens to spill from my lips. Focus, I tell myself. Focus on the Terra. If I cannot then I’ll lose my own damned erection and then where will she be without a Mortal God’s fluids to help aid her healing.

Bastard Gods—forbidding us from calling another of our kind with healing abilities.

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