Page 124 of Immortal Sun

Raw.

Impossible to contain.

Wild.

My nails dig into his back. Our tongues may as well be flickers of white-hot flames fighting against each other. Our thoughts mold together.

Death.

Destruction.

Creation.

Thousands of towns are burning in the background, and with each kiss I see Ra walking up to another soldier and dispatching them to more and more cities.

For the ones who didn’t die with the sword still in their hands, he picks up the sword and places it in their hands and then sends them off, one by one, thousands upon thousands—to the skies.

Later, the people celebrate victory with loud shouts and cries.

He watches in the shadows while they kiss their wives and hug their children.

Ra doesn’t celebrate, he just watches, sadness etched on his shadowed face.

He has no partner. No children. He has nothing but himself, always looking down, while we look up.

He lowers his head and returns to the mountains of Olympus. They don’t worship him. They merely acknowledge his win. They don’t appreciate what he’s done for their very power, for their families, for the world. They expected it and when any being has expectations that are met, they simply…forget the sacrifice made. Expectation can easily be confused with chaos itself.

I expect you to do the dishes—why would I celebrate your accomplishment?

I expect you to do your job---why give you an award?

Some might even say expectation is worse than evil. Evil at least manifests itself. Expectation simply stares, nods, and forgets why you had such a strong purpose in the first place.

I break away from our kiss.

“What was that?” I ask, gasping.

“The past.” His eyes are still black, but I’m not as afraid as I was. He’s being gentle with me when he could kill me with a flick of his finger. “Humans can be so off putting, patting themselves on the back when the battle wasn’t even won by them, but by assistance from the gods, and because of our benevolence, when they went to drink, we went to each sinking ship and sent off their warriors so they would be celebrated. And what do they do? They ignore us!” He grits his teeth. “So now you see why we’re owed a sacrifice. We. Are. Owed!” He jerks back. “Thousands of years of cleaning up messes, and all we ask is for this one small thing. All I ask.” He chokes. “And yet I can’t anymore. I. Can’t. Ask.”

His hair starts burning with a low orange and blue flame.

I reach up and pull him back down, only a little surprised that he comes willingly. “Tell me about Daggon.”

He relaxes against my chest, his head so big that it nearly covers both breasts.

He sighs and then sighs again like he’s tired of existing, tired of talking, just tired. “Wine and dine him, he would be easy, Cleo. So very easy to seduce.”

“And you?”

His eyes dart away. Confidence suddenly gone, sadness replacing what was once there. “Nobody has accomplished it.”

“I guess I need to work on my kissing skills.”

“It’s not that,” he says softly. “My heart, while still dead inside, is trying to beat for you. How sad, to have the realization that if I had made another choice, things would be different, but I don’t think I would survive it.”

“Survive what?”

“Killing you. If I didn’t stop myself.”

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