Embrace the Desire (25 page)

Her throat tightened. “I did want you to stay, but that was before your lover showed up and tried to kill me.” With conviction, she let her emotions free, let them wrap around Payne's mind. “And no, my feelings for you have nothing to do with Damon.”

“She isn't my lover.” A growl ripped from his throat as he turned and stared straight into her eyes. “You're the only woman I've ever been with. You're the only reason I'm hesitating to do the very thing I have lived my entire life for.”

Before Chanta could reply, Bastilla appeared between them, a broad smile on her face. “Time for a change of plans.”

She turned to Payne as she grabbed Chanta's arm digging her poisonous fingernails into Chanta's flesh. The poison invaded Chanta's body, her muscles seizing as Bastilla shimmered and Chanta screamed Payne's name as she disappeared with her.

• • •

Breathing in through his nose, Charon closed his eyes and smelled the scents that floated around the isle that he had called home for so many centuries. Endless centuries. Endless, empty, and lonesome centuries until the
Book of Creation
had called out to him. Since that day, something had stirred inside Charon, something different, new, and unexplainable.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the books he had collected. He now had five of the fourteen books. Isten had ordered him to retrieve the books, but his orders mattered not to Charon although those orders should have. Charon was Isten's grandson, blood of his blood and part of Isten's pantheon.

And yet, Charon gathered the books because something inside him demanded it, needed it to be done. Frustration caused his fists to clench at his sides. He couldn't explain the need. He couldn't explain the desires, the wants, and the ideas that were popping in and out of his head since the book called on him.

Anger coursed through him, his arms trembling. He needed an explanation. And if it took defying Isten and all the other gods, he would do so without thought or question. A sound, eerie and deep echoed around him. He caught his breath and whirled around, searching the isle, searching the skyline . . . to see nothing.

Speaking out loud, he tried to ground himself. “I am Charon. I have no free will, born of Isten's blood, I must do as he commands.”

His hood lifted and slid from his forehead revealing his glowing red eyes as the books began to hum. Charon grabbed his chest as the same hum vibrated inside of him, grew more intense as the seconds ticked by. Disorientation surged through him as he fell to his knees, a scream ripping through him.

A power so intense and overwhelming seized him, he felt it from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He fell forward onto his palms. Every inch of his body hurt, like white hot lightning had pierced through his skin and was doing a boot-scoot-and-boogie inside his body.

Fear rattled his brain. He had never experienced pain before or fear for that matter. A roar spilt the calmness of the isle and he realized it was his as his shoulders were jerked back with unseen tethers. On his knees, suspended there like a puppet, he saw the books' pages fluttering, the sound growing louder as a brilliant glow flared before him.

A tornado of molecules, shining and sparking, whirled faster and faster until they formed an apparition, a ghostly sight to behold. Charon's shoulders relaxed, released from their hold. And before him stood Jaiden, the lost god of prophecy.

Just as Charon remembered, Jaiden stood seven foot tall and was built like one of the Destroyers. After all, the Destroyers were fashioned after him. He was dressed in black, even the cane he leaned on was black. His hair was long, to his waist and as red as the blood of the humans. But it was his eyes that held Charon's attention. They were like looking into infinity, the past, the present, and the future combined.

Concentrating on the power swirling around the apparition, Charon spoke. “Jaiden? How?”

Electrifying pain split through Charon's skull. Charon grabbed his head, closed his suddenly burning eyes as Jaiden moved, and placed his ghostly hand on Charon's shoulder.

In a thousand voices, sharp and crystal clear, Jaiden proclaimed, “For this world to survive, I must be awoken. Gather my books. Seek and destroy all who dare to stand in your path.”

First, there were blue flames everywhere, surrounding Chanta, invading her thoughts and whipping through her soul. Second, the sound of Bastilla screaming profanities and swearing to whatever gods would listen to her filled Chanta's ears. And third, Chanta saw Damon.

“Damon.” His name fell from her lips like a curse.

The flames held her still, immobile. She was standing on a large marble star in the center of a throne room, Damon's she was sure. In front of her, Damon had grabbed Bastilla by the hair and slapped her, hard. Blood splattered across the floor from her lips and nose.

Bastilla laughed. “I bring you a gift and this is what I get in return?”

He pointed towards a door and roared so loud the walls trembled. “Get out of my sight you worthless leach. How dare you make a bargain with Charon and bring this,” he looked at Chanta. “This half-breed angel into my realm.”

Bastilla jerked away. “I'm not a fool Damon. I know you have coveted this woman for a long time. I've seen the way you look upon her in your cauldron.”

Chanta winced as Damon backhanded her sending her sprawling across the floor. “You'll be punished for this with blood and bone.”

Bastilla stood, anger and humiliation on her face. “Aren't I always being punished for something? At least there will be a reason this time.”

Before Bastilla could move, Damon had her in his arms, his lips on hers. Chanta closed her eyes, heard Bastilla moan and utter things Chanta never wanted to hear again for the reminder of her life.

“Bastard.” Chanta opened her eyes to see Damon grabbing Bastilla's hands and a snake firmly attaching itself to both of her wrists.

A huge male, she assumed it was male, dressed in black leather came out of the shadows and took Bastilla out of the door to Chanta's left. Although she was kicking and screaming, the male pulled her along like a disobedient dog on a leash.

Damon circled the star Chanta was standing on, his hands behind his back. Memories tried to surface as she watched him. Forcing them aside, she wondered what the odds were that she would survive this encounter with Damon. He came to a standstill in front of her and the flames dissipated.

Swallowing back her disgust, Chanta glared at the snake god standing before her. She could smell the potent arousal erupting from him and even worse, it was written all over his face. She had the urge to spit in his face as his smile pulled at the corners of his black eyes. A cold chill went up her spine as his face contorted and twisted revealing the resemblance to Payne.

“Do you remember me, Chanta?” His voice was a barely above the sound of a fog horn and she caught her breath as her past slammed into her brain like a thousand piercing needles. “Of course you do, how could you possibly have forgotten the man you once wanted to marry?”

Anger ripped through her body and she lurched forward to attack. The heavy shackles on her wrists bit into her skin as hatred filled her heart. He was the reason she had lived so long in fear. He was the reason Gyth could never reveal he was her father. His cruel, cold laughter echoed in the room as the ground beneath her twisted under her feet.

She looked down and a gasp of horror escaped her mouth. Thousands of dead and decaying naked bodies littered the floor. No, they were the floor. She stepped back and tears filled her eyes as Damon waved his hand, making her face twist to the left. In the far corner, a tall, slender man with one arm and a black leather mask stood holding a large bloody axe.

“Watch him, my beautiful half-goddess, watch him. If you dare to disobey me, it'll be Payne on his chopping block.” Damon's smile widened. “You wouldn't want that, now would you?”

Chanta closed her eyes as another lithe skinny man with a leather mask came forward with an unconscious human thrown over his shoulder. Her stomach roared and her heart thumped hard against her chest threatening to explode as her eyes were forced open. She bit her tongue and tears streamed down her face as the human was laid out onto the black chopping block. The human, a blond male, stirred and gasped in terror as he realized he was being chained to the marble.

“Daughter of mine enemy and now lover to my son, what shall we do about this little predicament we seem to be in?”

Chanta tried to speak, tried to beg for the human's life, and tried to jerk from Damon's hold. He laughed softly as he stepped closer and leaned forward as he smelled her hair. Her skin crawled as he hissed in her ear. He stared at her face as he nodded to the executioner. Her face twisted in pain as she watched the axe fall and slice through the human.

“I so wanted to seduce you my beauty, but alas I'm not known for my patience. Close your eyes beauty and remember me as we were before.” Chanta's stomach lurched. “Remember when we had love between us? Remember when I lay between your legs and took what you offered me.”

Chanta screamed, no sound came and she screamed again as she remembered how he had saved her and frightened her. She remembered how he had cut her hair, how he had ripped her clothes from her body the last night she had seen him. His sharp intake of breath made Chanta's body snap together and her brain went into overdrive.

She willed her power, her gift from the Burning, to her hands. Sweat beaded her forehead as she felt the energy fill her fingertips. Fire leapt up her hands and melted the shackles from her wrists. Her eyes glowed bright red as she turned to face Damon with an undeniable rage.

He never flinched, never batted an eyelash as she rushed forward and struck his cheek with her fist. Chanta shivered as a cold power surged around her and invaded her body. Damon's overwhelming evil took her to her knees before him. She looked up and her eyes widened as he threw his cloak back over his shoulders and his true form stepped through his human facade. He was nothing more than a hideous white skeleton with stretched ashen skin. Oh good god, and the snakes that scoured his body were those that crept into nightmares.

They surrounded her and bound her hands and feet. Twisting and jerking proved useless as the snakes slithered around her and pressed together. She was forced to stand as the snakes melted to her skin forming a long black leather-like dress with a tint of red at the edges of the hem that dragged on the embodied floor. On her hands appeared black fingerless gloves and on her head a crown of tiny hissing black serpents twisting through her white tresses.

Damon stepped closer and softly spoke. “Come, my beauty, is that all you remember of me? Don't you recall how I held you with gentleness and adored you?”

Chanta felt her body move even though she begged it not to.

Payne! Oh, god, Payne where are you? Don't let this happen to me! Gyth? Gyth? Please!

Damon laughed. “Gyth's powers cannot reach the Underworld. This is my domain and I am master here!”

Desperation and fear surfaced in her heart as she was led down a dark hallway and ushered into a large bedroom. Damon smiled as his face twisted and took the form of Payne. Chanta's eyes narrowed and her heart felt as if it had stopped.

“Will this make it easier for you, beauty? Will having my son's face and body make your stay here better?” His smile was sinister, Payne's face but not his heart or his soul.

Her lips still firmly sealed burned as she tried to speak. Tears rimmed her eyes as she wondered what he was going to do to her this time. Finish what he had started so long ago?

Damon led her to the bed with its red and black silk sheets and bleached bone bed frame. “Had things taken a different turn, this would have been our bed.”

He stepped back as he waved his fingers towards the bed. Her legs obeyed as she tried to fight the persuasion to follow his lead.

“Tell me beauty what I want to hear. Say that you love me and you have never forgotten me. Tell me.”

Her lips opened. His power over her slowly vanishing. “No! Never!”

Damon hissed as a serpent slithered across her shoulder. Chanta suddenly realized he hadn't touched her at all, not one slight touch. She stepped away from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest.

He looked at her, from the top of her head to her toes before his eyes rested on her stomach. She looked down and swallowed hard.

“So, you have made a bargain with Charon and you're carrying my child.” Her stomach flipped as he smiled.

“I'd rather die than let an innocent child suffer.”

He came at her, his face twisting back to his own. With her heart in her throat, she stood her ground. He stopped inches away from her, his eyes latched onto her belly.

“Swear to me that you'll raise him and tell him who his father is.” For a split second, she thought she saw a flicker of sadness cross his face.

“I'll raise him as my own. I think it would be best if he never knew of you and for that matter that no one else does either.”

Damon's eyes burned white hot, rage manifesting onto his face. “He's my son, my blood! I want him to know who I am.”

“I'd tell you to go to hell, but wait, you're already here aren't you? Tell me Damon, what did you do to deserve being imprisoned down here in this stinking hole?”

Damon's anger reached a new level as he peered into her eyes. His upper lip twitched and curled up showing his sharp jagged teeth.

“I will enjoy killing the last good part of my other son. And then I'm going to rip Payne's head from his body and spit down his throat for touching you.”

“Why does causing so much pain and heartbreak give you so much pleasure?” She tried not to scream the question but heard her voice bounce around the room. “Why do you hate Payne so much?”

“Pain and heartbreak are the only things real in this world.” He shook his head. “I don't hate my son, I did what I had to do in order for him to survive. His pain and anger has been the backbone of his will to live.” Chanta stared at Damon, reminding herself he was evil incarnate. “One day, I'll have my revenge and my sons will be my right hands.”