The Taste Of Divinity

Δ Ε Κ Α Ε Ξ Ι

His voice, so soft, so mocking.

"No." The hair on the back of her neck rose but she managed to keep her voice even, strong. She wouldn't show him her fear. "I'm not afraid of whatever it is you want to show me."

She wondered if he could taste the lies on her lips, if they were as. . . addictive for him as they were for her.

His lips parted, tasting her words. He drowned in satisfaction, his eyes slowly returning to the familiar warm abysmal colour he carried. Odd, how the lust remained and thrived, even then.

"Now tell me," She licked her lips again. "Where are we going?"

No, he had no intention of letting her anywhere near the area his father reigned, it was written plainly on his sculpted features.

"No." Laconic as always, how could she expect anything less?

He started moving again, taking her with him, his grip protective as though she would slip out and disappear if he dared to loosen his hold. It had become a constant fear.

The screams and the roars grew faint and only the sound of a river battling with its own power remained. The ground was black, infertile, full of sulfur and the scent of wasted dreams. In the distance, a mountain, unwelcoming and ominous, bled water darker than the wine dark of the sea.

An ugly feeling nested in her chest. It took the place of her heart, fluttering like a bird trying to escape its cage and hurting itself in the process. She wanted to leave, to step away from him and that hateful river and hide in her room.

But she forced her body to remain still as the Receiver of Many, the soul keeper who seemed to be holding her own essence in his hands, took her closer and closer to the banks.

He showed no fear, no sudden urge to flee and she wondered if she was being irrational, if she was the only one feeling sick from all the pain and the hate emanating from the ash-grey waters. Would he think her weak, she wondered. Would he think her no better than a child? Would he regret his actions once he saw that the bride he'd stolen was nothing, only a shadow of her mother?

Everything was possible.

"Don't let the hate invade, Persephone." He whispered, still grasping her hand. Somehow he'd drawn nearer to her. She did not understand. How could hate invade? And invade where? Her body? That was already a lost cause. She felt it, slithering like a snake inside her veins, moving closer to her golden heart with each breath.

"Tell me, why do you choose to spend your time in the garden?"

She would later come to learn that the river had powers, powers which made even the most loving souls turn black, bitterness dripping out of their mouths in drops of ash grey water. She would later come to learn of his desperation not to see her lose herself in that hate.

"I prefer to sleep by the flowers, it reminds me of home."

"I could become your home." He whispered, his voice hardly anything more than a seductive purr, his skin clinging to hers. Was it all an effort to distract her, or was he being truthful? "I could become your God and lavish you with jewels and precious metals, with pleasure and fear." Her eyes drifted closed, her lips parted in a breathless moan. She had no defences at that moment, all of them had been torn down, like an old temple that had been destroyed by an earthquake. "I could worship you, if you wanted me to. I could fall to my knees and-"

"Stop." She commanded, raising her arm and finding his burning flesh, begging. "Please."

"Why would I stop?" His teeth skimmed the skin of her ear. She moaned, unable to stop her body from responding. "You wanted me to be truthful. This is my truth. I'll lay my kingdom by your feet if you allow me to. I'll dress you in jewels and gold. I'll fuck you until you beg me to stop, until your writhing beneath me, until you're clawing at my face, sobbing for relief."