Page 18 of Mischief Maker

Chapter Fifteen

Kireth

I can’t tell if time is passing fast or slow. Every hour feels exactly the same as the one before it. The other gods drink wine, eat fresh fruit and perfectly cooked lamb, and fuck often. I sleep more than not, hoping that if I can just pass the time, the memories will return to me.

All I know is that my heart is longing for something, craving something, and it isn’t here. Whatever it is, whoever it is—that is where my purpose lies, and this place is standing in the way.

“What troubles you so much?” Terano asks, leaning against the edge of the fountain as he drops a strawberry into his open mouth.

The strawberry is not red, but purple, and the sight of it unsettles me.

No one else seems to think these things are odd, and I feel more alone now than I ever did for the hundreds of years I spent entombed in my temple.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” I say, for what feels like the tenth time. “This isn’t right.” I can’t explain how I know it, but I do. Whatever happened, I’m positive that my mother had something to do with it.

“That feeling will fade,” my father assures me. “Get comfortable, Kireth. It is foolish to desire what you cannot have.”

I don’t answer, because there’s nothing I can say to dissuade him. He is the unyielding ocean, after all.

“There is someone coming up the mountain!” Anoinda stands high up on one of the platforms, completely naked, as she peers out one of the great windows. “Look! Down there.”

The other immortals are too sluggish with food and wine and pleasure to make it there in any quick fashion, but I hop to my feet and run up the steps to take a peek for myself.

Far below, the mountain levels out into a great, endless field. A small figure steadily climbs the rocky slope, one heavy step at a time. As the figure gets closer, I can just make out a long brown dress. Whoever she is, she hikes with one side of the dress held up in her hand, so it doesn’t catch.

Something about that gesture, the way this strange interloper carries the hem as she clambers over the next rock, is eerily familiar.

“It’s a mortal,” Anoinda whispers, awed. “What would a mortal be doing here?”

Terano crosses his arms. “Perhaps she is lost. Though I don’t know how a mortal would have come this far, not without help.”

Help. Yes, she would have needed help. And there’s only one goddess I know who isn’t present here, who would have the power to bring a mortal to this realm.

What is Lucia meddling in?

The mortal woman slips on a rock and stumbles, and I catch myself reaching toward her. Whoever she is, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“What is she coming here for?” one of the others asks over my shoulder. He reeks of wine. “This is the hall of gods. She has no place here.”

But I don’t think she is coming to drink our wine or eat our strange food.

Eventually, she disappears underneath the great hall, and we are all left to wonder if she has reached the peak or not. I watch for a soft body falling from the rocks, but there is silence.

When the other immortals grow bored, they disperse and return to their debauched activities. But I don’t leave the platform, watching and waiting, wondering why this strange creature is here.

I don’t know how much time passes before there comes a small knock at the heavy doors of the hall. Terano stands up, a mystified look on his face. If they do not open, how could someone be let inside?

He heads toward the doors, but I’m there before he is. This time, when I pull the handles, they open with a heavy creak.

Standing in the doorway is a young woman with bright hazel eyes, her brown hair wafting behind her. When she sees me, she smiles.

“Kireth.” The way she says my name, a sense of recognition flutters through me. The cobwebs in my mind are blowing in the wind, clinging to the walls.

“Who are you?” I ask. Her dress is so plain, she looks as if she came here from a peasant’s hovel.

The happiness in her eyes at seeing me fades. “Don’t you remember me, Kireth? I’m Faela. I came to get you.”

“But I don’t know you,” I say, though I feel like perhaps I used to.

She shakes her head, disbelieving. “But you do know me.” She reaches toward me, and instinctively, I back away.

What is a mortal doing in this realm? Was she sent here to test me?

It’s as if I can see her heart breaking on her face. Whoever she is, she certainly knows me. I wonder if I had an affair with her hundreds of years ago and it’s simply slipped my mind.

“Why don’t you let our guest in?” Terano suggests gently, opening the door wider. “Please, enter, mortal. You have had a long journey.”

I step to the side as the woman bows her head deeply. “Thank you,” she says, then steps over the threshold. She looks up at my father, her eyes wide. “Forgive me, but who are you?”

His laugh comes out a bellow. “Of course, she does not remember me. That is why I’m here, after all.” He slaps his belly. “I am Terano, god of the sea. And you have reached the hall of the gods.”

Her little mouth falls open, and a few of the other immortals have a laugh at her expense.

“Would you like some wine, dear Faela?” my father asks.

The woman glances at me, as if unsure what to do—and hoping I will help her.

“Do as you like,” I say, waving a hand. Her brows crease, like she had hoped for a different answer.

“Then, please, join us.” Terano closes the door behind her with a thud. “It has been some time since I enjoyed the company of a mortal.”

The other gods surround her, all curious about this creature that’s wandered into our midst. I don’t like watching them fawn and gawk, but I have no say over what becomes of this human visitor.

She keeps glancing over at me as naked gods come down from their nests to marvel at her, and I sense her distress.

It’s when Lavis, the god of misdeeds, pulls up the hem of her dress and causes her to shriek that I intervene.

“Leave her be,” I growl, plucking his hands away. I won’t let her be touched like this. The other gods back away, and Terano chuckles.

“Perhaps this mortal is spoken for,” he says mischievously.

Anoinda flashes me an irritated look. “Is this why you won’t play with me, Kireth?” she asks, grabbing the mortal’s arm. “You’ve got a hard-on for this plain human girl?”

A fire I didn’t know existed is stoked inside me. I shove Anoinda, hard, and the other gods gasp as she stumbles back. I take the stranger’s hand and lead her away from the cluster of nosy fools, toward a set of stairs on the far end of the hall. Reluctantly, she follows me.

“Kireth?” she asks, tentative. “Where are you taking me?”

“Away from these bumbling idiots.”

It wasn’t too many centuries ago that I was one of them, but now they seem like idle, stupid courtesans.

The woman doesn’t ask anything else as I guide her up the steps, toward one of the platforms with a curtained room.

Inside, a goddess is moaning while another has her face buried between her legs.

“Kireth?” the first immortal says. “Are you joining us?”

“Get out.” I rip open the curtain and point. They both glare at me. “Get out! Now!”

There are huffs of annoyance as they pull themselves apart and hurry off the bed.

“Asshole,” one of them mumbles while they gather their clothes and storm out through the curtain.

Then it’s just me and the mortal standing on either side of the mussed bed. She nervously rubs her hands together, glancing at the bed and then at me.

“Why are you here?” I ask, pulling the curtains closed. The room descends into a warm, dim darkness, a floating flame up by the ceiling the only light.

When she turns to me, her face strikes me as painfully familiar. In her own strange, plain way, she is beautiful—almost otherworldly.

“I’m here for you.” She slides both her legs onto the bed and folds them underneath her, and I am almost certain that I’ve seen this same girl do this same thing before.

“How do I know you?” It’s not a matter of whether or not I know her—I’m sure now that our paths have crossed before. But what could have possibly brought her here, to oblivion, looking for me?

She fiddles with the hem of her dress. “I summoned you once.”

Ah, so she was one of my masters. Perhaps I did more than one kind of task for her, if you know what I mean, and that’s why I find myself so eager to protect her.

She slides toward me on the bed, taking my hand in hers, and this time I don’t pull away.

“Have you really forgotten how you saved me?” she asks, her big eyes wide.

“Saved you?” I echo. That’s silly. I don’t go around saving foolish humans.

She twines her fingers with mine. “It’s true. You found what was wrong with my farm. You cured it.” There’s a shyness in her eyes now. “And you taught me so many things.”

As the timbre of her voice drops, my blood abruptly rushes southward.

I hold in a gasp when my cock twitches under my loincloth, triggered by the mere sound.

Her hand trails up my arm, just tiny, gentle ghost touches that seem timid on the surface but belie a deeper passion.

When I remain still, she continues that gentle movement upward until she reaches my shoulder, then my chest. Her hand finally stops over my heart.

“What sort of things did you learn from me?” I ask, my voice catching. Was she a lonely widow who came to me for companionship?

“Well, the first thing you taught me was how to be specific.” A smile teases her lips. “How to give clear instructions.”

“That sounds like me.”

Her hand drifts down to the swirling designs on my skin, and my flesh trembles underneath her fingers.

“You never did teach me the words, though,” she says, a touch of sadness in her tone.

I’m surprised. Few have ever tried to dismiss me. Usually, they flail and threaten and roar with their displeasure until they learn how to be smarter with their requests.

“Did you want to learn them?” I ask. “I can tell you now. Not that it will do you much good. Since I’m here, I cannot return to my temple again. My time on the mortal plane is up.”

Her hand stops moving, then tightens into a fist. When she lowers her head, I can see tears dotting her cheeks like gemstones.

This baffles me more than anything.

“Why are you crying, mortal?” I ask her. I want to reach out and wipe them away, and my belly twists at the thought of being the one to make her cry.

When she gazes up at me and brings her hand to my cheek, I stay still.

Her palm is warm and so, so gentle, the way a newborn calf might lip at you hoping for food.

Her finger traces my cheekbone down to my lips.

The motion makes my cock twitch again, and I realize just how hard I’ve gotten under my loincloth.

For this small slip of a human woman? And yet she is tantalizing, with soft skin that looks infinitely kissable, and a pink mouth that seems like it would welcome me inside if I got the chance. Reflexively I lick my lips, wondering what she would taste like.

“I’m crying,” she says, “because I’m imagining how good kissing you would feel.”

“Oh?” I preen a little at this. “You enjoy the idea? Well, you should try, then.”

The playful god in me rises up, curious about this woman who seems to desire me. I have been desired by many mortals, but from this quiet, shy one, it would feel like a gift.

She sits up fully and tugs me toward her. Perhaps I misjudged and there is more to this girl than meets the eye.

I swoop down and take her lips in mine quickly, so she can’t change her mind.

I mean it to be a small peck, a light tease just to humor her—but the faint taste of her strikes a chord deep inside me.

Her mouth responds immediately, taking my lower lip in hers, sucking on it gently, running her tongue across it like she has practiced this many times.

How does she know just the way I like to kiss?

My tail weaves around my side, drawn to her, entranced by her.

It brushes down her hip, curling under the curve of her ass.

She gasps and leans into it as she kisses me again, more forcefully this time, and her hands wind around my neck to draw me closer.

How does one woman taste so good? She’s like a summer honeysuckle, delicate and sweet, and I lower her to the bed so I can get a bigger gulp of her.

She falls with me, her body easily molding to mine, giving underneath me in all the right places.

Her hands roam up through my hair to my horns, as if she knows them, is familiar with them.

I sense that her hands recognize me better than I recognize myself.

“Kireth,” she murmurs into my neck, and then she places a small butterfly kiss there. “I know what I want. I know what I need now.”

“And what is that, sweet girl?” I ask her, and the words glide off my tongue as if I’ve said them a hundred times before.

She smiles, peering at me from under long lashes. “You.”