Page 17 of Mortal Desires

Dark, long strands of hair fell like black water over his shoulders and down his waist. A loincloth separated his humanoid parts from his beast. I didn’t believe he had any human parts, though. He was all monster.

His dark eyes traced my features and I stuck my chin up, reluctant to let him see me crying once again.

“Are you ready to tell me your name?” my voice found strength I didn’t know I had.

I moved closer, and he smirked. “Why are you so focused on a name? The best things have no name.”

“That’s a lie,” I argued before thinking better of it.

“The best things are created without the necessity of a name, then. They simply are.”

“So tell me who you are.”

He stood up, his hooves loud again, and I had to hold myself back not to react in fear. Whatever he was, it seemed scary.

He looked like a thing of nightmares, the animal legs, curling horns, black eyes, and a human torso. Even his humanoid parts looked different, wrong. He prowled over and I held my breath.

“Death has a lot of names,” he said.

“So I was told,” I replied.

I moved closer and so did he. “They try to call me different names. Every once in a while they make up something.”

“The grim reaper?” I arched an eyebrow.

He shrugged.

“The devil himself.” I poked further.

He chuckled, dark and low. “You can call me that.”

I shook my head. “Tell me what you liked to be called.”

He moved so quickly that I almost missed it. In a second, he towered over me. I craned my head up, wanting to keep eye contact. I had to swallow my fear when his big hand closed around my throat. His claws carved the back of my neck. He smirked at my fear, his voice low and deep as he taunted me.

“There are millions of names for me in the mouth of every human, in the mythology of every culture. I am everything they say I am. I am the end of the earth and the blood flowing to soak the soil. I am darkness itself and the collective sins of humanity. Tell me, little witch, what do you call death?”

I rose to my tiptoes as he held me up, his face so close to mine, I knew I should be terrified. He smelled like the woods and a well-cast spell. His eyes were completely black and focused only on me. My toes curled inside my shoes because I knew I wanted to poke him further.

“I don’t ever call for death.”

“Yet, you think you can change it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can’t,” he agreed.

His other hand found my mouth, and his clawed finger rubbed over my lips. “Death will come for everyone and everything. It doesn’t care if you’re good or bad. You’ll die alone and you’ll die the same. It’s cruel. Deliberately cruel.”

My whole body shook, waiting for what he was going to do next. I held my breath keeping my eyes on him, daring. But he released me at once, and I fell into a heap near his hooves. Nothing but a raggedy doll he finished playing with.

I massaged the spot on my neck that he gripped while he walked back to his throne completely dismissing my struggle.

“Vicious,” he finally said as he took a seat.

“Vicious?” I rasped.

“You can call me Vicious.”

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