The Relic (Cradle of Darkness 2)

My gift of blood had left me with a thirst that had not burned the back of my throat in centuries. My veins were bone-dry, and still she was broken.

But I sought no meal. Such irrelevant urges could wait an eternity.

Those curious vampires peeking from their rooms saw what should not exist, and then they saw no more. It took less than a thought to pop their little skulls and leave a mess for another to clean once my path was happened upon. For my darling was too fragile—hundreds if not thousands of years away from learning how to mist through space. More fragile even than the rags on her body flaking away with every writhe as Pearl fought my hold.

She might as well have tried to fight a titan.

There would be explanations and apologies later. I would tend every wound that marked the flesh of her new body, be gentler with her than I had been with any creature since before time. Or at least time by history’s reckoning.

Screaming a great deal, despite how I pat. A mewling, toothless kitten, at once pushing the cracked inferno of my flesh and drawing away from the inhuman texture. Pitch-black flesh, my eyes a glow of red in my temper, in my elation, in suffering through a mix of emotion I’d forgotten existed.

All I had been over all the ages, all the battles, all the children, all the optimization of a species, had always been something to fill the time.

Grief? That, on occasion, teased the outskirts of my thoughts. Dedication? I was nothing if not decided. Boredom? It consumed me utterly.

The world, with all its modern marvels, was really no more exciting today than it had been when my armies swept entire civilizations under my feet. And I suppose, in a way, I was also a touch… probably, yes… irritated my love had left me waiting so long.

She’d always been particular. She’d always been beautifully difficult.

Formidable.

Yet I was so beyond in love it stole my breath. So very piqued that rage almost eclipsed joy. The ground shook again under my feet. Sending my children fleeing in the opposite direction of my march.

Seemed not all of Darius’ flock was as stupid as they appeared.

Yes, I’d be the first to admit it wasn’t princely to lose one’s temper in such a fashion. But I wasn’t a prince. I was no longer a king. I was a God!

A God who’d found his Goddess trapped in a tomb, withered in mind and body.

Did she just try to bite me again?

What joy! Kissing her crown, I’d never felt more in love.

So cute. Just like the first time she tried to slit my throat all those ages ago.

Our wedding night.

How fond that memory. So fond that I felt the need to cuddle my hissing, screamed-herself-hoarse darling closer.

I might’ve been old, but I was not senseless to female tendencies. I understood Pearl’s terror. It was more than just the current state of my body that brought on this paroxysm. More than my strength, my size, my altered nature.

My bride’s only interaction with others of our kind had been….

Maybe I would just kill them all. Five or six handpicked old guard would be enough to see to a Goddess’ needs. Tens of thousands? Excessive. Yes. That was what I would do. Flock by flock, I’d cull the herd.

Malcolm would have to die for ripping out her fangs. Which would upset Jade.

Who I supposed I had some sentiment for.

There were too many humans these days as well. Easy enough to turn them on one another and let them do the work for me.

Hmmm. But nuclear weapons. My bride would not like a sky full of fire and a world full of death.

A Goddess required subjects to rule. Beauty to enjoy.

Revisiting such a thought later would be best. Genocide was such time-consuming work, and no other creature would have a moment of my time save the one screaming memorized Latin prayers from under the membrane of my wing.

Claws, black as the darkest human heart, clicked. Impulsively seeking out the soft thing that continued to beg for the mercy of Jesus. One smell of her divine blood and I checked myself.

Be gentle. Excruciatingly careful.

Taloned feet ceased their march, and I threw back my head in an uncharacteristic roar of frustration, only to realize that my skin was burning her flesh. Powerful wings tightened around my prize as if they might protect her from the very creature obsessed with helping her, and in doing so caused her further pain.

Such irony deserved a laugh.

A madman’s cackle that rang out against the stone walls of the vacant throne room.

Fate was such a bitch. Which was why I fucked fate raw and would do so again.

Fate brought me into life mortal. Fate stole my soul. Fate was denied when I tied that soul to me with an unbreakable oath. And fate would be denied again when I conquered my bride’s fears and strengthened her body. She who had fucked fate herself by being born half immortal.