Forgotten fates part two.., p.28
Forgotten Fates: Part Two: A Forbidden Realms Novel, page 28
“I’m sorry Cass.” Az stood, grasping Cass’s shoulders. “I thought you were aware of that much at least.”
Cass growled, his stomach turning. “Dark Gods. Basileus sat there and watched me take his sister’s virginity.” He shouldn’t be so surprised at that. The Prince of Pleasures was perverse in the very worst of ways. Cass himself had been made victim of it under his ‘tutoring’.
“You have to deal with this Cass. He’s spouting off to all your officials.” Az gave him a shake to maintain his attention.
Cass straightened, steeling himself to confront his personal demons. Demon, in this case. He could call up the hell-flames and just end him…
He followed Az into the main hall, Jez close at his side, power thrumming between them, with an underlying rage.
Bas sat sprawled over Cass’s throne, a gathering of higher demons crowding the bottom of the dais.
“It’s an unappetizing thought I concede, but we cannot afford to lose the support of the warlocks.” Bas’s voice carried through the room.
“And why would we lose their support?” Cass called out, every demon in the room jumping to attention.
Bas smiled brightly, straightening himself in his seat, a malevolent glint in his eyes as he watched Cass walk.
Cass refused to acknowledge to the sick feeling it was causing. Jez put his hand on his arm. Right. Because his Herald could pick up on his feelings. Shame washed through him. He had to face this. Couldn’t keep running.
“A warlock under your care was murdered,” Bas said, tilting his head.
“By your sister,” Cass growled out, the crowd parting for him at his approach.
“You publicly threw over their queen for a demoness whore.”
This time Cass grinned coldly. “Again, your sister.”
Is that what Amara’s people believed, that he’d rejected her? He was reminded of the contempt he had seen in Berith’s glare. Hells.
“Their Queen and I have personal business. She would never withdraw her support.” He glared Bas down, daring him to go on about his sister. He did.
Bas stood with a shrug. “Not only did you wrong the realm of Asurim, you also betray the demonarchy. There is finally a child to help secure the claim on the throne, yet you refuse to name the child your heir.” Bas’s face was growing red with anger.
“I left my sister in your care.” Bas stepped closer, growling in his face. “How,” he stepped closer still, close enough to whisper, “did you get her pregnant, little prince?”
Cass just shook his head, holding his breath.
Bas put his hand to Cass’s chest, running it down slow. “Virile Prince of Lust.” Bas closed the gap between them and he felt his knees go weak. How in all the hells did Basileus still hold this kind of power over him?
“She’ll not be raising my daughter,” Cass whispered back, swallowing hard.
“Leira should be crowned your permanent consort for all you’ve made her suffer.” Bas growled, leaning in to brush his lips over Cass’s. “And if you were half as intelligent as your sire, you would’ve used this opportunity to solidify your rule.”
Cass stayed still as possible, his insides quaking. “The time of me playing the cards you deal me has ended, Bas.”
“Cassius’s rule is not in question.” Jez stepped up to his side and pulled him back and he began to calm.
Bas reached down and adjusted himself, maintaining eye contact with Cass the entire time, smiling when Cass’s eyes dropped to follow his movement.
“Is it not then? His sister has as much right to inherit as the young prince.” Bas hissed. “Perhaps she should be made aware of your recent foibles.”
“She can try, but you’ll soon find that her own options have been… eradicated,” Cass spoke low, trying to hide the rasp in his voice.
“I’m going to make sure Leira is healthy. You can’t keep me from her and if I have to take her from here to see to her safety, I will.”
“You can’t take her anywhere while she carries my child,” Cass said, crossing his arms over his chest. Seeing Bas’s true nature had put some ground back under his feet. “Try it and you’ll be imprisoned within the Malsheem for theft of my personal property. I have just the cell in mind for you.”
A bubble of humor rose up through his ire, Mara would appreciate the sight of Basileus chained up in her old cell.
Bas narrowed his eyes, licked his lips, thought better of what he was going to say and with a slight nod, turned and walked off.
Cass spun back to address this milling crowd.
“There is no meeting that would call for a gathering in my halls today. Am I to assume everyone here is gathered to discuss the usurping of my throne?” He paced across the platform. “If this is the case, it’s only fair I inform you that likewise, I’m debating having the lot of you imprisoned for treason.”
“My King,” one of them spoke up, groveling.
“If I hear one whisper of an uprising, I know where I’ll start. I’ll strip your essences and leave you as sentient shells.” It was the worst kind of punishment possible, being wiped from existence through the obliteration of the soul. No reincarnation, no afterlife. It would be as if one had never even existed at all.
He couldn’t stay here, his strength was depleted—he needed to feed. It wasn’t right to let his power grow weak when his realms balanced on the precipice.
“Jez,” Cass whispered. “I have to… go feed.”
Jez’s hand landed on his shoulder with a squeeze. “You go. Az and I can watch things here for a night.”
Cass didn’t even wait until he was back in his rooms, just called up a hell-gate in the middle of the hall, walking through to her rooms.
He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. She wasn’t here. He wandered over, fingers trailing over vials of poisons. No. he couldn’t afford the selfishness of oblivion. He needed to be strong. Had to have his head clear to deal with Bas.
“Demon King.” Berith came into her room, startled by Cass’s presence.
“Where is she?” Cass settled on pouring himself a drink, filling a tumbler with the closest decanter. He lacked the energy and calmness of mind to deal with the Dominus right now. It appeared he had a few things to discuss with Mara first.
Berith immediately closed off. “She has business she sees to.” His eyes went to the amulet at Cass’s neck and Cass closed his hand over it protectively before giving the warlock a snarl.
“I assume you came to feed?” Berith said, and Cass wasn’t oblivious to the impertinence in his tone.
“I came to see my priestess.” He kept his own tone even before taking a large swallow of his drink, nearly choking on the potent liquid.
“Let me show you to the temple.” Berith held up his hand in invitation, and he got the feeling the Dominus was inviting him to leave Amara’s private chambers.
With a shrug, Cass tossed back the rest of his disgusting drink and followed Berith out to the temple. There was nothing to gain by staying here if she’d left.
Lust hit him strong and fast upon setting foot within the hall of the temple, his body absorbing it, his power erupting and seeking more. The scent permeating the air was both familiar and enticing, his starved body trembling in anticipation.
But his head wasn’t there. Nor his… heart? It was a ridiculous notion, and yet the most fitting description he could come up with.
He looked around the room, couldn’t spot her. He turned back to ask Berith, but the Dominus appeared to have abandoned him here. He slumped onto the closest daybed lining the walls, settling in beside a couple, the woman riding the man with a slow sensual roll of her hips. This was his temple, his refuge, then why did he feel a stranger here without her?
He groaned and shifted in his seat, letting his head drop against the pillows as his power absorbed what it needed from the room. It wasn’t as direct or effective as participating himself — but it was better than the alternative. He didn’t want to be touched, especially after seeing Bas.
Hands slid up the bottom of his shirt and his eyes opened, meeting the startled ones of a young warlock. Her breath caught, her hands stopped moving as her eyes took in his.
“You’re not,” she said, stammering and stepping back. “You’re a demon. Your eyes,” she gasped.
There was a hearty chuckle from behind her. “Hells, Eris. He’s the Demon King,” Agate said, stepping around the clearly shaken female.
“Cassius.” She nodded.
“Agate.” Cass nodded back, too relaxed to move. “Where is she?”
“She wasn’t expecting you… anymore.” Agate’s eyes narrowed.
Right. Cass had left before she’d returned the other night. He’d wanted to return the very next night; he had been distracted dealing with Leira.
“I need to see her,” Cass said, turning his head. “What does one do after royally messing up, send flowers?” Did Amara even like flowers?
Agate grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Come wait in her chambers before you frighten the young ones away.” She smiled, though her eyes were still haunted.
“I think Berith didn’t want me in her room, or near her...” Cass got to his feet and followed along behind her, feeling sluggish after the unsatisfactory feeding and miserable at the discovery that Mara had been left awaiting his return.
Agate looked back, rolling her eyes. “He’s under a few misconceptions. Firstly, he believes Amara doesn’t need you. I suspect you both operate under that delusion.” Her eyes darkened. “Just wait for her, okay?”
Cass nodded, standing in the middle of her room, looking around as Agate ducked back out.
He walked over to her bed and ran his hand down the soft furs, the scent of her intoxicatingly strong. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled in. No better place to wait for her, he could sense her here, and he was tired. So very tired.
His mind slipped into a dream—or memory—he wasn’t even sure he was sleeping, just seized with pain and terror.
His shoulders ached, there were a million pins and needles throughout his arms as the feeling came back, and he could barely stand for the weakness through his body. Bas was washing him, and it took his bleary mind a few moments to catch up and realize how intimate things were becoming.
Hells, even when his body was in this state? Bas had no shame.
He’d been hanging from his chains for countless hours, locked away from any windows so it was hard to mark the passage of time, and for the first time, he got a clear inkling of how Mara’s life was. He’d starved, been denied interaction, had nothing but his own thoughts to dwell upon.
They’d been betrayed. They never had a chance.
He had no idea how long he’d hung from those chains. No idea what had become of Mara. His body was flooded with so much worry and yes, fear. It was no wonder he couldn’t grasp a coherent thought.
Their kiss had been magical, he’d never felt anything like it.
Not just lust, but desire.
That’s how it was supposed to be.
Thoughts were scrambling around in his tired mind, and he had no care to try to control them. He was tired. So damned tired. So damned defeated.
Bas gently lathered soap through his hair and Cass’s eyes drifted closed. How long had he been hanging there starving? Was it his father’s intention to weaken him? Bas’s hand cradled the back of his head as he poured water over his hair, rinsing the soap.
Cass opened his eyes when he felt the other demon’s lips on his own. He didn’t have the strength… his mouth moved mechanically under Bas’s ministrations, his eyes refusing to open.
“Now Cassius,” Bas whispered against his cheek. “I think you should thank me properly.”
He blinked open his eyes when Bas no longer touched his face; the blood draining from his cheeks when he saw Bas undoing his pants. He didn’t have the strength to fight.
Just had to get through this, then he could sneak off and make sure she was okay. He’d done worse… been subject to worse.
Bas lifted Cass, helping him sit up, then trailed his hand up his chest and rested his thumb on his lip.
“Just a taste little prince.” Bas’s eyes had gone heavy, his hand stroking his erection as his other thumb pulled on Cass’s lip. “You’re starving for it aren’t you?” His voice was a sultry rasp.
Was he? He couldn’t even think straight. Starved was the least of it.
He took as much as he could, Bas cradling his jaw as he fed his erection all the way to the back of Cass’s throat. He gagged, his eyes watering, but Bas’s hand at the back of his head held him steady.
Suddenly, Bas was ripped back, and blinding pain shot through Cass’s head as a fist connected with his nose. His head slammed back against the side of the tub, his ears ringing.
A hand gripped his hair, pushing him under the water, holding him there until his lungs burned and his body flooded with panic. This was it. He feebly tried to fight off the grip on his head, his movements weak from the lack of oxygen.
Then he just gave up. Opened his mouth and dragged the water into his lungs, praying it would be painless…
His hair was yanked hard, dragging him up and out of the tub, leaving him scrambling to climb out before his hair was ripped out of his head. He was tossed on the floor, his arms automatically going up to shield his face.
Not before he saw his father looming over him, red-faced.
“Don’t you touch my herald like that,” Asmodeus yelled, his booted heel coming down hard on Cass’s hand.
Touch him like that? Did his father not realize that had been going on for years?
“Weak, cowardly excuse for a son.” His boot landed in Cass’s ribs, causing him to slide across the floor, the pain in his head and hand forgotten as the nerves in his body screamed with his next breath.
His father picked him up, only to throw him against the thick glass of the mirrored wall. He felt his skull crack; it resonated through his head with a thud. His shoulder popped, his arm hanging limp.
Every breath was a sharp agony, the pain so intense it was keeping his bleary brain alert. His vision wouldn’t focus, he couldn’t follow his father’s quick movements.
His father’s hand grasped his cheeks, his blue eyes blazing, shining too brightly.
“You think to take over my rule?” Asmodeus snarled. “I’m going to break you so thoroughly you’ll crawl after me to beg my forgiveness.”
He grabbed Cass’s arm, the one that was just hanging, and pulled him forward to meet the fist that was aiming for his gut. Cass realized his collarbone wasn’t sitting as it should, barely had time to register that as the fist in his gut stole all the air left in his lungs.
He dropped to his knees the moment his father let him go, gasping for air, the pain in his ribs screaming through him.
His father was saying something to Basileus, the words didn’t register in his brain that kept blinking out of consciousness.
“We just wanted our freedom,” he thought he spoke clearly enough to be heard, but his words were slurring, his jaw not moving the way he’d wanted. “Just to live.” He looked up in time to see his father’s fist coming down at his face again.
It landed across his temple, knocking him over and into blessed unconsciousness.
He didn’t get a reprieve, coming to as Bas was pulling pants onto him, his father pacing and blustering, flaming wings blaring from his back.
“… shouldn’t even allow him to live.” His father was mumbling. Or his brain was dulling his reality. “Perhaps killing the warlock will remind him of his place.”
He jumped, his heart pounding, it took him a few breaths to realize it was her hand trailing through his hair. With a low groan, he wrapped his arm over her and pulled her tight to his chest.
“Hello.” Her smile was gentle as she gazed up at him.
“Did you know, Mara?” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Afraid you’ll need to be a little more specific.” Her smile faltered.
“Did you know she was Bas’s sister?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wanting her smile back. Instead, she stiffened against him and he ran his hand down her back, trying to relax her.
“He has a sister?”
“Leira.” He leaned back so he could see her expression and felt a mixture of relief and regret flush through him at the sight of the repulsion filling her eyes.
“He just showed up there. Levistus’s power is too weak to keep him bound.”
Her fingers trailed down his face. “He can’t touch you.”
Cass swallowed hard. Truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to stop Bas if he tried.
ALL JUDGEMENT ASIDE
There was a moment where Amara feared she was going to be sick, his revelation causing her stomach to plummet towards her toes while its contents decidedly ventured upwards. How in the nine hells had they so thoroughly missed the mark on that twist?
In hindsight, it made perfect sense, so much, in fact, it was almost embarrassing to admit she’d remained clueless.
She’d looked into his family history, there had been no records of any siblings in Basileus’s lineage, and her spies had never made any mention of extramarital offspring. Alas, spies could be paid off. And she already knew most documents and historical records pertaining to Hell and the Demonarchy to be unreliable sources. Asmodeus had seen them all altered during his long reign as if attempting to rewrite history to his own liking. And for the most part, he’d succeeded.
This explained how Leira, an unknown and untrained Erinyes had suddenly risen from ambiguity to claim the much sought after position of a royal courtesan within the Demon king’s private harem.
Basileus had practically re-raised the demon after Asmodeus had ripped away his soul. Given that much influence, the Prince of Pleasures had ensured he would forever hold a margin of power over the sin-eater. A victim never truly forgot their tormentor, nor their torment.
Similarly, the Demon Prince had likely groomed his sister to be a pawn in his games from the very beginning. Uncaring that she would likely end up consumed by corruption. This explained how Leira and Glasya had come to be allies.
