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.
Which was endlessly amusing, considering her past.
But the religious babble, those maddening prayers—they were not good for my beloved one. So I offered honest truth, rubbing my chin atop her head, careful not to inadvertently crush her skull. “I met your Jesus. A decent enough fellow, I suppose.”
Adjusting my arms to aid in Pearl’s comfort, trying to hold a fragile body as cautiously as I might, I added, “Completely wasted the gift of immortality, if you ask me. He spoke and spoke and spoke, and who listened? Who remembered any of it correctly? Not a soul… except maybe myself. Our time in the desert was interesting, though thoroughly misquoted.”
Tiny, her reply was. Tiny and meant only for her ears, her lips pressed to my chest as she sobbed. “Blasphemy.”
She was so utterly cute that I could not resist running the back of a razor-sharp claw over her cheek. Success achieved, not a single drop of blood spilled. “Oh, sweet one, how I adore you. You’re just… delicious.”
All fangs and cracked black skin, all flames and searing heat, wings, and bulging muscle… every last molecule of me was completely enamored with my soul’s new face. All of her was delicious, down to her toes.
I wanted to eat them. Not really. Well, really. But I wouldn’t unless she gave me permission.
What had I done to deserve this? This elation!
The loving sigh that billowed, brought tendrils of steam from my lips, was both lengthy and the right amount of dramatic.
In time, she’d look back upon our reunion fondly. And we had time, a universe’s endless expansion and contraction of time.
With care, with feeding, with love and attention, my soul would find that it indeed recognized me. That it sang its song so I might be drawn closer.
That deep down she always knew I’d find her and bring her home.
Oh so carefully, I set the shaky thing on her bare, mostly reconstituted feet to spare her skin from further unintentional searing. Perhaps a little too exuberant in the way I slid her down my body as if she might ice the flames. And I was left with a shiver like an untried boy. “Shall we use this moment”—what was the best way to phrase it?—“to outline expectations?”
Blood drunk, healing at a rapid rate, yet still bearing gnarled corpse’s fingertips and reforming organs. Driven utterly mad, for reasons that spread my wingspan and left her cowering, Pearl hid behind her tangled, dark hair.
An improvement. She wasn’t trying to run… potentially because I held her slender wrist in my very large, very dangerous fist. And her pretty, filthy skin only smoked a little.
Beating the air with one relaxing flex of my wings, I gave myself the luxury of a deep breath. And contemplated.
She started screaming again.
The bridge of my nose between forefinger and thumb—a habit from my mortal years I’d never quite set free—I even groaned in mirror to her terror, somewhat tempted to let her wrist go. Yet concerned that chasing her through the maze of the Cathedral would only heighten her confusion.
Instead, I tried to explain. “You died in childbirth. Our seventh son.” Bitterness welled from a place I had forgotten, lacing a demonic growl into my litany. “Not in some great war, not from a rival’s poison… in duty and fealty to your husband.” My free hand, tipped with razor-sharp claws, knocked against my breastbone, a loud bang fitting the mood. “The universe dared take you from me, and I have squeezed payment from its bones. As you are my soul, there is a chance you spent our time apart in some version of hell you keep referring to.” I rolled my eyes toward the heavens, aware of the pun. “If there even is such a realm.”