Authors: Donna Milward
“Oh, wow…” Sarah studied the rest of the living room. Tiffany
replica lamps graced two corners. She guessed the fixtures to be oak. The
brown cushions on the furniture had a luxurious silky texture. “Looks
expensive.”
“It is,” Ranjan said. He strolled to a massive cabinet. It housed an
entertainment system, complete with a sixty-inch flat screen TV and a
state-of-the-art stereo system. Sarah caught a glimpse of his PS3 and a
stack of video games.“I really wanted to keep the character of the house,
but I didn’t want it to be, you know,” He smirked. “girly.”
Ranjan pressed a button and Sarah hid a grimace as Black-Eyed-Peas
filled the room with their peppy synthesizers and rap lyrics. She hated
this trendy happy crap. Irritation tugged at her mouth despite her efforts.
“Green apple, please.” Sarah stared at the polished surfaces, the
stainless steel appliances and the glass fronted cupboards displaying neat
rows of dishes. “That looks fantastic.”
“Thanks.” Ranjan handed her the bottle of pale golden liquid. “Adrian
did the counters too. He has the same kind in his condo.” That name
again. Sarah knew it was significant, but why?
She took a sip of her drink, allowing the fizzy sharpness to roll over
her tongue. Her lips puckered, but not because of the flavor. Her mind
raced with disjointed visions.
She saw a garden of tattoos and explosions. Resentment and
animosity welled from within. Familiar but somehow out of place.
Where did all this come from? She was having a great time with a super
nice guy. What on Earth had come over her?
Sarah fingered the condensation building on the glass vessel. Maybe
she shouldn’t drink after eating spicy food. She took another tiny sip to
be polite, but after shaking off the second burst of anguish, she decided
against more. She’d hold it just for show. She didn’t want Ran to see her
as wasteful or rude.
He opened the middle door to a simple work area. The waning
sunlight exposed bookshelves full of law textbooks on one side while a
glass desk dominated the other. Several photos adorned the walls. Sarah
recognized Ranjan’s sister, nephews, and parents among them.
He sat down at the tweed-covered chair and switched on the
computer. He pulled up a stool for her while the monitor went from blue
to a screen saver depicting a view of planet earth from space.
She waited beside him while he typed in the University of Alberta’s
home page. He spoke of the campus, scholarships and tuition, but Sarah
found it hard to concentrate.
Ranjan’s cologne mixed with the musk of a long day in the sun and
his mother’s cooking. Her sights wandered to his neck. If she only leaned
forward she could lick away the sweat.
“I said we should get your transcripts as soon as…” Ranjan’s sentence
petered out. Sarah could stare into those chocolate wells for hours. She
wanted to press her lips against his.
Ranjan closed the gap between them and kissed her. His mouth began
a gentle dance, his tongue exploring. Sarah’s eyelids fluttered shut as she
surrendered.
Her hands laced into his coarse hair. He ran his mouth along her
throat and she arched in pleasure. Her hardened nipples brushed his
chest, making her whimper.
Ranjan grasped her shoulders, pulling her back and biting her bare
nipple. Sarah yelped, struggling. The more she writhed, the harder he
clamped down.
Sarah forced herself to calm and he rewarded her with tender
suckling. He shifted to its twin, giving it the same treatment. Sarah
exhaled in shaky bursts as the air chilled her sensitive tips.
Ranjan lifted her with him as he left the office. He kicked open the
bedroom door, letting it bounce off the wainscoting. He arranged her like
a breakable doll on plush duvets the color of sapphires and whipped off
her capris.
Sarah imagined she must be lounging on a cloud as she sank into the
soft covers. It was heaven to watch Ranjan shed his suit to reveal a taut
brown physique and strong cock.
In one stride he’d lunged to the bed and tore at her thong. It bit into
her skin before snapping into a damp scrap of cotton. He sniffed it like an
animal.
She cried out as her nerves grew to full, tantalizing alert. She lurched,
but he wrapped his arms around her legs and held tight, dipping and
probing without mercy.
Ranjan took his time, bringing her to the edge of orgasm. He used his
fingers, his stubble, everything. Repeatedly. His composure infuriated
her. She’d brace for the rush and he would stop teasing, only to begin
again when the tension subsided.
Time to take matters into her own hands.
Sarah gathered her strength, stretched forth, and spun Ranjan on his
back. She didn’t have the patience to torture him in kind. She had desires
to fulfill.
“Oh please…” Guttural shrieks echoed. Hers, she realized, but she
was no longer in control of her senses. Waves of pleasure bordered on
pain.
The glimmer remained in his eyes and she was hypnotized, unable to
break the link between them. He guided her onto his cock again and
again. Aftershocks of ecstasy coaxed more squeals from her lips as she
slowed the pace.
As agonizing as his restraint had been, his insistence proved her
undoing. She gathered handfuls of linen, trying to maintain a physical
hold on sanity. Faster and faster he dragged her hips into his cock,
panting until the slap of flesh against flesh drowned out her howls. He
wouldn’t cease.
When the last of their shouts faded, Ranjan collapsed beside her.
“That was fun.” Ranjan could barely speak.
“Yeah. We should do it again.”
“Definitely.” He sounded wicked and playful. “First thing tomorrow.”
A moment later, Ranjan’s snoring dimmed Sarah’s euphoria. Amazing
sex like that would have been perfect with a little pillow talk and
cuddling.
She tiptoed toward the kitchen, careful not to make a racket. Even so,
she knocked her shin on an end table and stifled a curse. She massaged
the new bruise and straightened.
If she could just get there without bumping into anything else…
A large hand clamped over her jaw. It stank of corpses.
Don’t move, Strife.
Cruel truth flashed before her eyes in a muddy blur. Sarah, the young
woman new to Edmonton, never existed. She was Strife, goddess of
discord, minion to Ares. Her story was a tale of perpetual viciousness
that spanned centuries. The revelation brought disbelieving horror.
I should not have placed my trust in you. Ares’ telepathic fury burned.
You allowed this mortal to enchant you with honeyed words and
promises like a love-struck fool. You consumed the food, did you not?
The curry. The masala and turmeric… Ares spun her around to face
him, crushing her arms in a painful grip. The whites of his eyes flared in
contrast to his indigo skin, his beauty as terrible as it was confusing.
Do you not see? They are a mystic race. The spices and herbs they eat
give Indians the ability to see our kind. It gives them immunity against
your spells. And you, stupid girl, partook and rendered yourself impotent.
Do you remember now who you are?
Strife licked her lips, tasting a life that didn’t belong to her. The
coconut rice and succulent chicken no longer lingered. In their place, the
flavor of ashes.
She peered into the eyes of her master, her tormentor. She smelled his
musk of wine and blood and longed to crawl back to bed and listen to
Ranjan’s heartbeat.
Strife realized with a pang of loss how much she’d learned to care for
him. Not just the incredible sex, but the kindness he’d demonstrated, the
way he’d treated her with respect. Never before had a man cherished her
as Ranjan did.
Strife obeyed without a backward glance. But what could possibly be
at a disease research center that could be of use to him? How would he
twist tools used for the good of mankind into machines of war?
She crept to Ranjan’s room, wincing inwardly as the door groaned,
but he continued to slumber. Strife plucked her rumpled clothing from
the floor and dressed. Her thong lay draped over a quaint beaded lamp.
Dislodging the tattered remains of her underwear might cause the glass
fringe to jingle.
She left it. Let Ranjan have a souvenir of their night of passion. She
smiled, but her heart knew regret. She would never have his love. She
didn’t dare return, even if he survived whatever plot Ares devised.
Strife took a long last look at her human lover. His perfect skin shone
in the moonlight, his sweaty locks plastered his brow like seaweed. His
mouth tweaked upwards in his sleep and she wondered if he dreamed of
her.
So perfect for a mortal. It grieved her to leave him like this.
Strife.
Her master beckoned. She wanted to kiss Ranjan’s bronze cheek
before departing but the risk might wake him or enrage Ares. She
swallowed her sadness and tiptoed away, leaving the door ajar. Squealing
hinges might thwart her exit.
Not that it mattered. The effects of the Indian cuisine made him blaze
like a blue star in her vision. Strife wished dal nawabi and biryani
affected all his powers, like his ability to intimidate her into committing
his foul deeds.
Fly right. He never thought he’d be attempting that in his lifetime. Jetpacks were a science-fiction fantasy; he couldn’t imagine himself even
bungee jumping. But he streaked through the sky hundreds of meters up,
a comet with a sword pointed in front of him like a stinger. The Human
Mosquito.
Adrian developed a deep appreciation for the helmet. He wasn’t cold.
He smelled the dust and greenery in the air, but his eyes didn’t water
from the wind. He watched towns roll by like shimmering lakes. Rivers
meandered beneath him as ribbons through velvet trees.