Page 49 of Sett and his King
Spiti didn’t answer. It never did. But when I turned to look at the stove, all the ingredients were there.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
I came to stand in front of the stove and turned the heat on before I grabbed the first ingredient.
One root of belladonna.
Two clusters of hemlock.
Three bells of foxglove.
A pinch of salt.
Ashes from a charred oak tree.
Bring to boil.
Don’t inhale the fumes.
No stirring required. The ingredients were deadly enough on their own. He didn’t stand a chance.
With shaky fingers, I grabbed the pipette and used it to pour the poison in a cup. Even touching the thing could kill.
I couldn’t shake the déjà vu feeling that permeated my body. It was…it was frustrating but in a way reassuring. I needed to do this. The dream was my guide.
I just had to hope real life didn’t end like the nightmare had.
“Here we go.” I walked into the living room trying to smile but I couldn’t.
“Thanks,” he said as I offered him his cup and sat down next to him. "Are you okay? You were gone a while."
I nodded.
“I…I was just thinking about Gene.”
It wasn't really a lie. I had been thinking about Gene. I’d been thinking about him and me and dying under Horus's rule. I’d done what Horus had asked and he’d still killed us both. But I’d also been thinking about him. What I’d done to him.
It was just a dream, right? It wasn't true. So why was I letting it dictate how I felt?
Set lifted the cup to his lips, and I knew why.
Because I had to do it and I didn’t want to. I didn't want to kill him. But I had no choice.
Before I could second-guess myself, I launched at him, pulling the coffee mug from his lips and replacing it with my mouth. He eased the mug on the table next to him and I deepened the kiss.
Sett reciprocated and wrapped his arms around me, causing those wild fucking butterflies to wake again.
“You’re incorrigible,” he moaned.
I ignored him. I didn’t want to speak. I couldn’t speak. I just wanted to do.
So I took a deep breath, made time stop all around me and got down on my knees to worship his cock. It was the least I could do.
I made love to him. I wanted to be his again and to have him be mine one last time.
All I wanted to do was to kiss him, to be with me, to have him look at me as if I was his world and he was mine, to hear him come undone. To have this god-shaped cinnamon roll melt in a puddle because of me.
When would I have the opportunity to do that again? To be with someone so kind, sweet and wonderful?
