Wed to the Wild God (Aspect and Anchor)

"There is another Anticipation going on even now," Kassam murmurs against my chest. "The god of death and his anchor found me. They pulled the sword from my guts, and the moment it was free, I felt the thread that bound me snap free. The world went black. I woke up, and you were standing over me."

"So you were sent here," I muse. "Maybe someone's protecting you from Riekki and her crazysauce?"

"Mmm. Perhaps."

I think for a moment and then venture, "Is it possible that you're not supposed to return home at all? That whoever sent you here wants you to stay?"

He props up on one elbow, looking down at me. His gaze devours me, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me and we're going to fuck and he'll forget all about answering me. But Kassam just shakes his head, thoughtful. "If that were the case, would I not be split? I was very aware every time the High Father tore me into the four aspects of myself. Right now, I feel like…Hedonism only. I am a left-over shard from my world, and I think I must get back. You could be right that someone brought me here to hide me, but I have been gone millennia. My worshipers will have dwindled to nothing. And if a god has no one to pray to him…what happens then?"

"I don't know," I admit. I think about the woman at the bar and offer, "Lachesis—she said she was fate of this world. She suggested we think about who sent you here, and we'd find our answers there."

"Lachesis?" Kassam's eyes go wide and the thoughtful look disappears from his face, changing to one of worry. "She approached you?"

Is that…bad? "She was at the bar, smoking a cigarette. She told me that my mother was—oh god, my mother." I've been unconscious, and I haven't passed on Lachesis's warning. I grab Kassam's hand. "Where is my phone?"

"What is a phone?"

Oh boy. Frantic, I sit up, pushing him aside. My head throbs—the pain focused around my nose, and I jump from the bed. "The phone. You know, the square thing I'm always typing on? Please, Kassam, I need it." Like most people nowadays, I don't see the need for a landline, and right now my phone is my only way to get ahold of my mom. She checks her email maybe once a week, so that won't work. Did I leave my phone in the bar? In the parking lot?

"Wait, Carly, we need to talk about Lachesis. I don't like that she's coming to you—"

"My phone," I cry again. I grab a pair of jeans from the floor, shake the nesting cat off of them, and shove my foot through one leg. "Lachesis gave me a warning for my mother. Said she has to stop reading our cards. That she could hurt herself. I have to call her and tell her to stop—"

"I do not have your small box," Kassam says apologetically. "It was important?"

I press my hands to my face and then wince, because that hurts like the dickens. I finish shoving my jeans on and stumble toward the bathroom, just in case my phone ended up there somehow. The moment I flick the light on, I reel in horror at my face. My nose is swollen twice its size, and there's an ugly bruise on one side of my brow and scratches along my jaw, probably where I hit the gravel. Good lord, I look rough.

No phone, though. I'll lament over how bad I look some other time. I race back into the bedroom and hold a hand out for Kassam. "Come on, we have to find a phone somewhere. I've got to call my mom and warn her."

He gets up from the bed lazily, languidly, and I'm hit with a blast of need that makes my knees buckle. "Carly," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and palming my breast through my T-shirt. "It will be all right. Do not panic."

"Need…to help…Mom," I pant, even as he rolls my nipple under skilled fingers and plucks at it. "You're distracting me."

"I cannot help myself. I need to touch you." Kassam toys with my nipple, his expression hazy with arousal, lips parted just inches away from mine. "I think my magic is drained and the only way I get it back is giving in to my curse." The smile he gives me is so sexy and hungry that it makes me squirm. He pinches my nipple, fingers light enough that it makes me gasp at the sharp sensation. "Help me focus."

Focus? When he's touching me like this and I just want to drop to my knees in front of him? I moan, pressing my face against his bared, tanned chest. I'm inches away from his nipple, and it'd take nothing for me to lean over and lick that small, dark bud and see how he reacts. I slide my hand to his cock and my wrist feels curiously light. I glance down at it and notice scratches on my skin, encircling my wrist.