Page 66 of The Satyr's Guilt
If Spear stood in front of him now, he wouldkill him with his bare hands.No.Not good enough. He wouldtie him behind a horse to be dragged until his flesh tore from hisbones. Afterward, he would hang him by his feet to rot in thesun.
Jarek’s shirt slipped off her shoulder,revealing bruises and scattered cuts. Pulling the animal skin uphigher to hide the marks, he returned to his bedside vigil.
She flung her arms wildly while rolling ontoher stomach. When she stilled, flipping onto her back again, shesnapped her lids up. Searching the room, her rich dark iriseslanded on him.
Pedaling her feet backward, she propelledherself to the top of the bed as far from him as possible. Lookingdown at her clothed body, she fisted the animal skin to draw it toher chin. “Who are you?”
Though her breaths were shallow butterflies,her voice showed no fear. In fact, she seemed angry.
Good for her.
****
Celene picked over what remained of dinner.Though she hated the disturbing quiet of the house without Jace,she hoped her ex-roomie sprinted to freedom. Seeking the comfort oftheir routine, she removed The Path from its shelf, spreading itout on the couch. She opened the book to begin where Jace left offbefore the escape.
Though an oddity, the winged assassins ofthe OneCreator chose to live in Angor among those they hadimprisoned rather than among their own kind in The Vast. Here inthese territories, they thrived in the unpredictable environment.One moment sun, soft breezes. The next stormy skies, a place cold,icy, stark. Often, it was cruel like those it contained. But it wasalways honest, always just.
Landing in his atrium after a sanction kill,a true death, Ohngel fanned out his wings, the span from pillar topillar, aglow with a blistering heat which vanished his kill’sblood. With them snapped tight to his back, he stepped under thesoothing spray of a shower to erase the weariness of battle.
Dressed in breeches of supple leather and ashirt of silk, he was about to consume a goblet of mead when Gahyasummoned him to her abode in The Vast. She possessed news to share.He downed the contents of his glass. A fight. A capture. A heartydrink. A possible fuck. The day was getting better.
From the cliff behind her ethereal domus, hewas stunned by his companion’s announcement. Ohngel leaned againsta large boulder, his thick arms folded across his solid chest, hisfiery wings lashed against his spine.
Gahya gazed down on a narrow valley borderedby rugged mountains and smoking volcanos in a place named Earth.She directed Ohngel’s attention to a pair of creatures sheidentified as incubus and succubus. The beings lay side by side ina thicket shaded by towering trees outside a stone dwelling.
“Behold. They are mine. When I rolled thewinning combination in the game of Cee-lo, the OneCreator allowedme to fashion sentient beings, like us but less than. They liveamong the wildings of Earth.” Her deep breath puffed out heralready ample breasts. “I am now the proud Genitrix.”
Her pronouncement was indeed interesting.“Who participated in this game?”
“The OneCreator set the challenge, but onlyGabriel and I accepted.”
Her creatures were beautiful. The female,with hair a luxurious spun silk, was tall, plump in the rightplaces. The male resembled a warrior, his forearms strong, hisshoulders broad. “How did you make them?”
“From a mixture of aether, a bit of my soul,and my unexplainable carnal desire for you, my love.”
His gaze locked onto hers. She held it foronly a moment before casting her stare to the ground. She knew shehad crossed a line.
Ohngel’s lips tightened. “The OneCreatorwill not be happy with you. Your soul and carnal knowledge shouldnot be the material of creation.”
She pouted, her mouth twisting into anunattractive moue. “Why not? The wager was his idea. I thought Iwas quite clever.”
The OneCreator was not without vices. Hepossessed a notorious temper which on occasion burned hotter thanthe core of Angor, where the most serious offenders suffered inagonizing conflagrations. His other was a love of pitting his godsand goddesses against one another while stepping away, his armsakimbo while he awaited the shitstorm. Ohngel didn’t blame him. Aguy’s gotta have fun.
“You are naive, Gahya. It does not becomeyou. You never should have used a part of your soul in their makingor imparted carnal knowledge to your creatures.”
Gahya’s eyes slitted, her chin tiltingupward in defiance. “My soul regenerated. I lost nothing. Besides,their sensual desire is their best feature. Are we the only onesallowed this craving for flesh?”
“He will eye your creations closely.”
“It will do no good. My darlings areimmortal.”
“Unlike you and me, they can be killed.”Ohngel angled his head toward Gahya, his gaze piercing.
“Under very rare circumstances. Most likelythey will live forever. They are pure. Perfect.”
But they were not self-sufficient. He andGahya were. The OneCreator set that stipulation before the bet.They required sustenance to regenerate. Gahya, though, wasclever.
Blood nourished vampires. Orgasms fed herdemons. Power channeled from others for their spells strengthenedthe mages. Nymphs and satyrs partook of arousal. Incubi and succubidrew lifeforce. Ylves breathed another’s soul. Djinn, berserkers,and Amazons thrived on the fear and excitement of battle whileshifters required a taste of flesh. In these ways, her creationsregenerated.
