Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (26 page)

“You may go,” Nassore said. “And thank you.” He was not accustomed to offering thanks for the gestures that were simply due to one of his rank and importance, but today, he felt humbled and grateful.

“You honor me.” The priest bowed before leaving.

Only moments later, hurried steps approached outside. Zain rushed in, followed by the high priest Vono, who Nassore had met earlier before what should have been the ceremony where he pledged loyalty. He was embarrassed to realize Vono had witnessed his father’s humiliating ploy where guards had taken Nassore away like a common thief.

Zain came immediately to his side and took Nassore’s hand. “What happened?” When Nassore hesitated, glancing at Vono, Zain dismissed the high priest. “Leave us.”

With the other man gone, and despite his deep shame at both his own treatment and in his father’s sacrilegious actions, Nassore told him of the meeting with his father, the plans to send him away for “education,” his punishment, and eventual escape.

Zain frowned. “You have suffered much at the hands of one who fears the truth and the power my mother and I have brought into the world. You are wise to reject his false claims and come to us.” He touched Nassore’s face, and a warm tingle of pleasure followed the trail of his fingers.

The demi-god looked down. “Your ankle is badly hurt.” He knelt beside Nassore and gently slipped the boot off his right foot and pulled off the stocking that covered his bare foot. Although Nassore had been dressed and undressed by others every day of his life, this action had an intimacy that made him feel safe and loved.

The swelling in the ankle ballooned. The skin was dark. “I’m amazed you were able to walk so far on this,” Zain said.

“I was determined to see you.” Nassore had never before felt an attraction for men, but Zain blurred the line between male and female, being both and neither at the same time.

Zain lifted a hand to touch the injured ankle, and Nassore winced instinctively. “Shhh,” he said, meeting Nassore’s gaze. “I will not hurt you. Ever.”

Gently, he passed his fingers over the skin, and as he did, the pain began to ease and the swollen and distorted joint receded to a more normal shape. The process tingled but did not hurt, as Zain had promised. Instead, Nassore felt an almost euphoric buzzing that emanated all over his body.

The joint now felt stiff but uninjured. Zain held the foot in his hand, slowly rotating it, working the stiffness away until he was satisfied the damage was healed. When no trace of the injury remained, he smiled up at Nassore. He helped the prince replace his stocking and boot. “Now. My mother wishes to meet you. Come.” He stood and offered his hand to Nassore.

The prince took his hand, and to his surprise, even once he’d risen, the demi-god did not release it. Instead, he led him to the door by the end, and together they walked down the temple corridors.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nassore felt surprised that he didn’t mind. Public displays of affection were not for those of the upper classes, much less the imperial family, but any who saw them smiled with approval before bowing to the pair.

Hand in hand, they made their way to the lower level of the temple. “Here,” Zain said at last. “This is my mother’s inner sanctum. She will be pleased with you, I’m certain of it.”

Nassore flushed with the praise. “I hope so.”

“How could she not?” Zain squeezed his hand.

Zain pushed the heavy door back and led Nassore inside. Within the room, toward the back, lay a woman who could be none other than the chosen vessel of Pang. Her glossy hair was a few shades lighter than her son’s black tresses, and it pooled on her shoulders in a beautiful cascade. Her bright blue eyes shone with intelligence and light. She was nearly nude, covered only by a sheer gossamer robe of the palest pink that fanned around her on the cushions on which she reclined.

She smiled brightly at her son. “Zain, my starling.”

“Mother.” Letting go of Nassore’s hand, he went and knelt before the goddess’ vessel and kissed her cheek.

A strange twinge of jealousy filled Nassore’s chest. Pang smiled at him. “You are Prince Nassore.”

“Yes, Lady Pang.” He bowed formally.

“You were right,” she said to Zain. “He is beautiful.” She sat up and eyed the prince hungrily.

“And he’s suffered greatly for us,” Zain said, his tone grave.

“Has he?” The words came out with a purr. “Tell me.”

Zain recounted the story exactly as Nassore had relayed it earlier, but now the prince felt almost foolish.

“It was nothing. My ankle is healed, thanks to Zain.”

“But you were unjustly punished by your father, and he didn’t even bother to deal the stripes with his own hand, but passed the job off to a
servant
.” Her tone dripped with disdain. “Injustice stings more than a severe chastisement dealt in the right.”

Zain tutted his agreement.

“Show me,” Pang said, leaning forward.

“My lady?” Nassore asked.

“Show me the stripes you received for speaking the truth of me, for condemning your father’s heresy.”

Nassore froze, feeling ashamed that he’d made such a big commotion of it when it was no more a punishment than he’d received many times over the years, but admittedly, not recently. “My lady, it’s nothing.”

“Show me,” she repeated, her voice low and seductive.

Zain stood and came to Nassore’s side. He leaned close and whispered. “It will be all right. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You were not the one who did anything wrong.” His hands went to Nassore’s cloak and he helped the prince remove it, then let it fall to the floor. Then, with deft fingers, he unfastened the prince’s belt.

Kneeling down, he removed the prince’s boots. All the while, Nassore couldn’t take his eyes off Pang. He felt almost dizzy with her presence, as though he could not breathe.

Reaching up, Zain put his hands on Nassore’s hips and pulled his trousers down in a smooth motion. He helped the prince step out of them. Zain touched Nassore to encourage him to turn his back to the goddess, lifting the hem of his long tunic to fully expose the back of his thighs to his buttocks.

Pang gasped when she saw the stripes he’d received. “Such brutality you’ve endured.” He voice was low and husky. “Remove his tunic. It’s blocking the light.”

Standing, Zain did as his mother commanded, tenderly undressing Nassore. He went further, stripping him down until he wore nothing but the small undergarments that barely covered his modesty.

Nassore met Zain’s gaze, and the demi-god smiled tenderly at him. Every place where he’d touched Nassore was alight with warmth.

“It is beautiful that you accepted such condemnation,” Pang said from behind him. “Such an act of love and devotion.” When her fingers met his skin, he jumped at the jolt of pleasure that shot through him. “But I cannot allow you to bear such ugly marks for me.”

Her healing touch was even more intense than Zain’s. She traced the marks on his thighs one by one until all five lashes were healed. Each time, the pleasure was so intense he had to fight not to cry out.

His entire body was rigid with desire. The heat of embarrassment warmed him, for he knew that the evidence of his yearning would not be hidden by the thin fabric. In fact, he was straining hard against the fine cloth.

Zain leaned close and whispered, his voice low, “Don’t be ashamed of your body. It’s a beautiful thing to be enjoyed.” He ran his fingers over Nassore’s chest, then gently motioned for the prince to face Pang. “Your desire is as much an act of worship as receiving that punishment had been. It pleases us.”

Pang’s eyes travelled down his body, purring with satisfaction at what she saw. She lay back on the cushions and pulled the diaphanous robe up as she spread her legs before him. “Worship me, young prince. Worship your goddess.”

Nassore, overwhelmed with the heady rush of desire that filled his entire body, went to his knees in front of her, showing his adulation with his tongue on her flesh. Her scent made him wild with want, and it took every fiber of control to keep himself from rushing to his goal. Pang’s vessel roared with delight and clawed at the cushions as he continued his devotion.

He barely registered the action as Zain stripped him of his underclothes, and he barely needed the encouragement as the demi-god guided him up to take position with his hips between her legs. When he thrust inside her, she threw back her head and cried out, her body pulsing.

Zain lay beside Pang, holding her as Nassore moved with long, deliberate motions. The demi-god watched intently, growling with his own unquenched desire.

Reaching up, Zain touched Nassore’s chest. It seemed so right to share this intoxicating and beautiful moment.

“More,” Pang demanded as she writhed beneath Nassore. “Give me more. Give yourself to me completely.”

Nassore did as she commanded, pushing with wild frenzy, but it wasn’t until Zain reached down and touched them where their bodies joined that the prince lost control completely. He stared into the goddess’ deep and sparkling eyes, and as his body released all the tension and carnal bliss it has been withholding, for a moment, he saw into infinity.

The world went dark, and he became consumed with Pang’s presence.

Nassore met Zain’s eyes and saw the hedonistic hunger within them. He climbed off of Pang’s vessel and devoured Zain’s mouth, reveling in the carnal rapture he found there.

Chapter 26

Graiphen had never been a man given to nerves. His entire life, he’d done what needed to be done, often the things no one else would do. Positions of power were not for the weak-minded or those with a conventional view of morality.

So as he hunkered in a small room in Pang’s temple, the wavering sensation in his stomach puzzled him. He couldn’t chalk it up to old age, although his joints certainly did ache more than they would have if he’d been hiding half the day at Korbin’s age. The unfamiliar feeling distressed him more than what he was about to do.

It wasn’t so much the worry of getting caught. That, he knew, was inevitable. The thing that made his gut rumble was the almost certain failure of his current task. He knew how powerful Pang was and that killing her wouldn’t be as easy as walking up and plunging in the knife, and yet, here he was.

He’d felt Pang’s presence within him when he carried her from Vol to Durjin. She’d possessed him already, using him like a toy. Disgust filled him as he recalled how he couldn’t even voice his protests, because she would not allow it.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Pang’s vessel, Kiarana, felt the same way, if her own will lay subordinate within, if she felt the same disgust that he had, when Pang had forced him to submit to her primal desire and need to feed. But as soon as the question entered his mind, he dismissed it. Kiarana had been eager enough to house the goddess. She might not have known what she was getting into when she volunteered, but that was merely a reflection of her own stupidity.

The tiny closet where he hid was situated three levels up from the inner sanctum where Pang made her home. He felt confident he would not be found in this out-of-the-way, spider-infested storeroom. The temple would die down soon. It had been a busy day with the acceptance of the new acolytes.

Naturally, he would have preferred to wait in the comfort of his own temple, but Seba’s death was not going to go uninvestigated long, and he didn’t dare demand the help of his own temple until he’d done as his goddess commanded. The simple-minded guard went for help after Graiphen explained that Seba had, in fact, tried to conjure. He’d been too upset at the turn of events to even think of arresting Graiphen.

As soon as he’d gone, Graiphen slipped out and left the palace. He hadn’t even had the chance to wash his hands. Every moment seemed like he was one step closer to being arrested. That might happen, he knew. In some ways, that might be preferable to what Braetin had in mind for him, not that he really thought that a prison could protect him. He knew better than to hope that she would forget and move on to her next plan. She was capricious, yes, and it would be possible to distract her, but once she set her mind to revenge, she would have it.

At one point in the evening, after hiding for several hours, he decided it was time to move down to Pang’s inner sanctum. Unlike Braetin’s, it was not heavily guarded, but she did not have a portal to protect, nor did she have the Red Manus. In time, he supposed, she would have armies to command, but for now, she was weak, vulnerable in her comfortable, silken nest.

But before Graiphen could get far, he had to stop and scurry back. Prince Nassore was walking by, hand-in-hand with Zain. The two men’s voices trailed downward as they descended to the lower floor.

Having returned to his closet, Graiphen had to think. Of course he’d known what had happened earlier in the day, and his mind whirred as he considered the implications of Nassore coming here against his father’s wishes. This rebellion could be the seed that began a Talmoran civil war. Was that what Pang wanted?

Despite his service to the Spirits, Graiphen considered himself loyal to the empire. He knew what he’d just seen must be reported to the emperor. Did the palace even know Prince Nassore was missing? He pushed the thought aside. He had a task to do.

No answers came quickly. His stomach rumbled and his joints ached from staying in one position so long. His hand kept going to the knife in his robes, and thus he reassured himself the blade hadn’t vanished. After a time, however, he resigned himself to waiting. A half hour, an hour, two hours… what difference would so short a time make? It could be that no one even yet knew that Nassore was not where everyone thought him to be, and Graiphen couldn’t give up what might be his last opportunity to do what he should have done weeks ago, before that abomination Zain was even conceived, or at the very least the first moment Pang spoke of betraying Braetin.

Even though Graiphen felt sure of where Prince Nassore and Zain had gone, he moved from his hiding place and headed down into the temple’s depths. He wished he wasn’t wearing the distinctive red robes of his temple, but fortunately, he was able to duck into a side room anytime he heard voices.