Hello all!
Oh my Charles, the first chapter of Marcus' story is here! Eeek!
Now, I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry! I had a major case of writer's block and college thought it would be funny to r u i n m y l i f e.
So, yeah. Sorry about the delay!
Now, this chapter is a wee bit shorter than I normally write, but it ended so nicely. This is all in Marcus' POV, but you'll meet our next lovely lady in the next chapter ;) What do you think she'll be like? I hope I manage to follow up Ammi with an equally loveable/hateable heroine!
Now, onto the story!
Enjoy,
E <3
~~~
"Ammi, for the last fucking time, I am not smuggling you into the party for your birthday. It's at a bar for God's sake! Luce would have my fine ass."
"And I'm twenty-three, not sixteen! It's perfectly legal!"
"You and I both know that mortal laws don't mean jack shit to that annoying angel you call a mate. And despite what you may think, I rather like my life."
She rolled her eyes for a solid thirty seconds, and for an instant, I thought her eyes might have gotten stuck. Then, she grinned at me, her pronounced white fangs flashing. Some might have mistaken her expression for one of mirth, or of concession. I knew better. Though her smile was friendly, her eyes were glacial. They were hard as stone, like cold flecks of jade. The smile might as well be a wolf baring its teeth.
Well, it half was.
"Marcus," she drawled, propping her leg up on the arm of her chair as she spoke, "do you, perchance, remember that you owe me a favor?"
I clenched my jaw tightly, knowing she had me by the balls. But it didn't do to show weakness to the Queen of Hell. She could, quite literally, smell fear, and she had the tenacity of a bulldog when she sensed victory. And all the time really.
She was a special sort of woman. Luce had a hard enough time wrangling her, and she was downright mellow now compared to the first time she'd been in Hell. When she'd first met Lucifer, her mate, she'd kneed him straight in the balls without mercy.
And, at times like this, it was difficult to remember that she was like a little sister to me.
Very, very difficult.
"I can't say that I do remember, Amirykal," I replied, sending her an assured grin, baring my larger fangs at her, though I knew she was one of the few people that I couldn't possibly intimidate. Even if she had known my true identity, even if I once again had the powers of the god of death. Hell, I'd seen her threaten the Egyptian god of Chaos, attempt to stab Odin, and when she'd first met God, she'd tried to order him around. She was just that stubborn.
"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Marc," she groaned, sitting up abruptly. "you're acting like Slate. And we both know that is the single biggest insult I could pay you."
I wrinkled my nose in agreement. The insubordinate daemon was no better than the soot I scraped off the bottom of my shoe. He was generally dishonorable, and he wasn't even intelligent enough to convince us to tolerate it.
"Fine, fine. But, in my defense-"
"What possible way could you defend getting wasted and showing up at my dorm at three in the morning?" She interrupted, throwing me a calculating look. "You're just lucky my roommate wasn't there since apparently drunk daemons sprout gigantic fucking horns and a tail."
"And wings," I added under my breath, wincing when her eyes narrowed sharply. It was so easy to forget that she was a goddess. A Norse wolf goddess, to be exact.
"Apologies," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms.
My daemon form showing it's ugly-ass face wasn't because of my drunkenness, but I was not about to tell her that. The less she knew, the better.
"Well, I was checking on you," I griped, but she just rolled her eyes again.
"Thank you for that," she smirked, "your drunk ass really saved me from the sleep I desperately needed. I had an exam in Luce's Latin class the next morning, I'll have you know. You're just lucky I didn't fail, or he would've taken it out of both of our asses."
"I'm sure you would've enjoyed it far more than I," I smirked at her triumphantly.
"The way you two moon over each other behind my back, I wouldn't be so sure."
I clutched my heart in mock agony, throwing my forearm over my face, "You wound me, Ammi! My masculinity, it withers in the face of your ire!"
A pillow whapped me square in the face, smooshing my nose and stinging much more than one would expect. As it fell, I let my most exasperated expression show.
"Really? Is this how the Queen of Hell conducts herself now?"
She snorted a little laugh, "It's how I've always conducted myself. And stop calling me 'Queen of Hell'. It's fucking weird, my dude."
"Beat me in a sparring match, and maybe I'll think about it." I challenged, sitting upright. A good fight was exactly what I needed right now, to take the edge of the restless energy inside of me. Even now, claws threatened at my fingertips, my horns only hidden by my mass of ugly silver hair.
I hadn't been a vain god, as Aphrodite was. But I still could hate the monstrosity that God had twisted me into.
Ammi's brow quirked up. "So, you won't distract my angel for a night, but you will spar with me, which he has forbidden multiple times?"
I waved my hand dismissively, "He's just being overprotective. I won't hurt you. But I can't control what might happen to you at a bar with humans."
She eyed me shrewdly, her green eyes contemplative.
"You know, I always accuse Lucifer of being a controlling, overprotective bastard, but deep down, you're even worse, aren't you?"
Fuck, if she wasn't right. When I'd been a god and taken lovely Grecian woman as I pleased, they'd been delighted with my darker brand of pleasure. Before any of the modern men had discovered it, I had taught women the pleasure and pain of a leather strap in the hands of a capable, dominant god.
But Ammi was like a sister. I'd never be comfortable discussing such things.
"Who, me? Never. Lucifer is enough of a domineering asshole for the both of us." I grinned lazily, unwilling to let her know just how correct she was. "Are you trying to distract me so you don't get disgracefully beaten?"
Her eyes flashed, just as I'd known they would. Amirykal could never resist a challenge, she was too proud, too competitive. And though Lucifer warned her against it, it was something that would never change about her. She would get into trouble because of it for the rest of her days.
"You're fucking on, daemon bitch."
~
I groaned as I allowed the hot water to sluice over my tense back muscles, relaxing under the scalding spray. I reached for the sides of the stall, stumbling and cursing when they were farther away than I anticipated. Even after all these centuries, I still was startled by the extra space in the shower stall. I was still so unaccustomed to my smaller form, and I doubted it would ever change. I had lived for eons as the god of death, and this body fit me about as well as a shirt that was two sizes too small.
As a god, I had rivaled Ares for brawn and Hades for height. Now, Lucifer positively dwarfed me. Call it what you will, ego, masculinity...it still rankled.
I had never thought of myself as a vain god, but perhaps I had been proven wrong.
Ammi had put up a good fight. She was certainly much improved now that Fenrir had helped her become more connected with her "feral" side. When she fought now on two legs, she fought with the ferocity and instincts of a predator. And when she fought on four legs...
Her red wolf may be the cutest damn thing, but telling her that was an easy way to get a chunk taken out of your ass. Her wolf was lightning fast, and her infamous temper was even less controlled on four paws. Sparring with her was a challenge I welcomed, despite the fact that if Lucifer were to find out, he would obliterate me.
It was worth it. I needed the release of a fight now and again. Recently, I had needed that release more and more frequently. I tried to ignore the animalistic instincts rising within me due to this damned form, but it was nigh on impossible. I had once prided myself on my iron-like grasp on control, unruffled and untouchable. I had been the ice king, reaper of souls and wielder of death. Now I was a weakling daemon who couldn't keep his claws under control. I hadn't been thrown into a rage like this since I'd been a brash young god.
Oh, and if only it had been just the anger.
I growled low in my throat and slammed a palm against the water-slick tiles, trying and failing to ignore the rock-hard monster between my thighs. It throbbed, red and angry and demanding my attention. Lately, my body had been feeling less like my own and more like that of a rutting, raving animal.
Unable to resist, I wrapped my fist around my dick, and choking up on it with a growl and jerking it roughly, almost abusively in my anger, until my seed splashed against the tile. I released a shameless, tortured groan, leaning my forehead against the wall before I jerkily finished showering the sweat from my unnaturally gray skin.
I wished I had provided myself any relief. It seemed my fists were incapable of easing this particular ache.
Wrapping a red towel around my waist, I stepped from the bathroom, tossing my damp silver hair from my forehead and allowing my eyes to trail over the many weapons that decorated my walls. They were beautiful, wicked, lethal. Some of the best quality and craft of swords, maces, tridents and even, to my dismay, scythes that one could possibly procure.
They meant nothing to me.
"An impressive collection."
I froze, my fists clenching, my claws piercing my palms and the golden blood of a god, one part of me that God could not change, dripping onto the hardwood floor. In my surprise, webbed wings sprung from my back and a thick, muscular tail sprouted from my spine, dislodging the towel. I didn't give a shit. God had made me like this; a broken, ugly beast. He could damned well deal with it.
"God. Or do you go by Charles now?"
A deep chuckle. "Amirykal certainly has her quirks, but my son doesn't appear to mind."
"Yes," I snarled, unable to help the bitter edge to my voice, "to many you are quite the benevolent god."
"To those who serve me well, I do my best." The asshole almost seemed amused. "I include you in that category, you know."
"You certainly have a funny way of showing it, you bastard."
"A bastard, am I? I suppose I understand your point of view. I imagine I would not take to your situation well."
"I am an abomination. You have made me this. Every day I become less and less a male, and more and more beastly."
I swear, I could feel God grin. "Some women like that in their partners."
"Drop. Dead."
"Ah, but then you will never find the woman to take the edge from your beast and restore your godhood."
I stilled, indiscernible from the marble statues of my homeland.
"A...female?"
"A very special female. Your mate."
I whirled, caring little for my nakedness, "Is this some cruel joke, God? I assure you, I don't find it fucking funny."
"I do not jest, Thanatos. Or Marcus, is it now?"
I stared into those haunting silver eyes, unintimidated. "Thanatos is dead. You killed him all those years ago."
His handsome face broke into a wide smile. "I doubt it, but if you insist, Marcus. To your question, I promise I do not jest. I am not so cruel."
"I beg to differ," I spat, baring my vicious fangs. "No female will want me like this, God. To give me my perfect match while I am still the twisted creature you created so many centuries ago is the epitome of cruelty."
God's dark brows crash downward, his affably amused expression evaporating. "Do not forget that you came to kill me, Greek. I acted out of self-preservation. Though I knew you were coming, you are not one to be ignored, lest I lose my soul. And I needed a reaper for my pantheon."
"I had no choice!" I snapped, my right-hand flexing unconsciously, hoping against hope that my scythe would appear at my call as it did those thousands of years ago. "My friends needed me."
"Ah, Hades and Athena, was it?"
"And Hephaestus." I narrowed my eyes at his ignorance. The burly blacksmith had been discounted too many times for me to allow it, even now. Hephaestus was a close friend, despite how long it had been since we set eyes on one another.
"Of course." God grinned connivingly, once again in good spirits. "I have plans in the works for them, never fear, though Athena is quite capable of handling her own fate."
"And what of the...of my mate?" I asked, trying to get the fucker back on track.
"You will meet her soon," God promised, a gleam in his eye as he spoke. "I think you will enjoy her very much, if my past observations of your...habits are correct."
I growled, "You're a meddling psychopath."
"I prefer 'intrusive matchmaker'."
I snarled at him, and he grinned wider.
"I will be watching you with interest, Thanatos."
And then he disappeared.
~
Oh my lord first chapter DONE!
What did y'all think?
Seems Charles is continuing with his conniving ways, and managing to be a grade-a asshole while he's at it. I swear, he's only nice to Ammi.
Were y'all happy to see her in this chapter? I could never let her go so easily!
What is it like being in Marcus' head? Thoughts? He certainly hides a lot behind the jokes and the attitude, huh?
What do you think his mystery mate will be like?
Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone :))
Love y'all, and see you next time!
E<3