Dark Origins Read online

  Rather than her words—my memory conjures up her touch.

  My downfall.

  My eyes snap open.

  My downfall.

  The war has ended. It’s been days, possibly months; time moves differently on the mountain.

  And then I see her again, the one with bright blue eyes, as she looks up at me as if I’m supposed to do something. She’s holding someone’s hand; it’s a man.

  I reach for my sword; I hold the hilt and wait for the Creator to come down and tell me that I’m allowed to kill that man for touching her.

  Mine?

  What is this word in my head?

  But she is.

  That girl, now woman, I am meant for her, I know it but can’t speak it, confusion wars with rage that he’s touching her, and when they go into her tent, and the lights go down, I tremble, my wings spread out dripping with red.

  “Calm yourself,” Bannik commands.

  I stare, wishing I had the gift of sight, and then thankful that I don’t.

  I think I want to take a step when Uzza directs my attention back to the mountain, and once again, I’m focused.

  Once again, I know my purpose.

  It isn’t her. I tell myself.

  “Oh, but it is,” my heart responds. “It will always be.”

  EIGHT

  Nephal

  Seven years later…

  I fall to my knees.

  Why haven’t they saved us?

  The heroes of old?

  Why do they stay on the mountain?

  My husband died in the last war, it was an arranged marriage, but at least he gave me my son.

  I cover my child’s body with mine, only to have him ripped out of my hands by a barbarian. “No! Please, I’ll do anything!”

  The barbarian scowls, his braids dangle by his chin. “Anything, eh?”

  “Please!” I crawl toward him and kneel at his feet. Dirt cakes my fingernails, ash burns my eyes. “Don’t do this, don’t hurt my child, please!”

  With a grin I know he enjoys, he tosses my only child with the rest, the flames come up, and then he holds me while I watch. I struggle against him, fighting, scratching.

  I cannot bear it.

  I cannot.

  I wail, I scream, and then my child is gone.

  The flames lick up the rest of the bodies as I whisper, Sariel.

  Suddenly a thunderous roar comes from the mountain; the barbarians stumble back and look up as the earth starts to shake beneath our feet.

  “What witchcraft is this?” The barbarian closest to me yells as the mountains wail with injustice.

  Tears blur my vision, but I can see the gold armor moving, shining in the moonlight as it moves in sync, step by step.

  It takes them seconds to reach the bottom. They’re all beautiful, tall, they’re gods among men.

  One of them looks to me then to the man who just took everything I had from me; he walks up to him, slits his throat with his sword, then bends down and very gently lifts my chin with his fingertips.

  He’s warm, he’s cold, he’s everything I’ve ever needed.

  His fragrance is unlike anything I’ve ever smelled in my entire life.

  “Are you well?” he asks. His voice is deep, and yet it caresses my face, calming my tears, my heart, making me feel less like I want to jump in the fire after my son even though I know it would be in vain.

  I can barely get the words out, so I nod my head then say, “I lost my child.”

  “I know, dear one, I know.” He hangs his head, his jaw clenches. “What is your name?”

  “Nephal,” I whisper, and then I keep the secret in because I swore to my cousin Helena I would.

  He stares straight into my blue eyes, his own swirl with confusion and then despair. “Downfall,” he says. “It means downfall.”

  “Yes.”

  “Mine. Ours. My downfall.” He closes his eyes and then looks behind me at one of the large rocks that guards our village.

  He looks down at his hands then touches his lips.

  “And your name?” I ask, standing.

  Somehow, I know it before he speaks it, but I wait anyway. He is the man she spoke of. I don’t know how I know, but it fills my soul.

  He looks over at me, both hope and despair in his eyes as he says. “Sariel.”

  “I call your name often,” I admit.

  Now his eyes burn as the fighting ends around us. He takes two steps toward me, then three, when he stops in front of me. He lifts his hand then drops it, instead touching his forehead to mine. “Oh, I know.”

  “So why have you never come?” I ask. My voice trembles more than it should as I stare up at him; I feel like I’m begging—maybe I am.

  “Because, little one, you are my downfall.” He scoops me up into his arms and carries me away, along with the sadness of losing my child, of losing everything, and the bitterness that this is the second child taken from me because of the barbarians entering our lands.

  I’ve never had time to grieve.

  Never had time for myself.

  I’ve always said it’s the way of life we have been given despite the broken pieces of my heart that refuse to mend.

  He carries me though.

  He carries me as if he knows my pain and suffering and wants to share that burden. The minute he brings me to my tent, I burst into uncontrollable sobs, and I scream his name until my voice goes hoarse.

  He holds me still, armor and all.

  And when I’m finished cursing him, shouting, grieving—he tilts my chin toward him, and he kisses every tear on my face. He’s painfully slow, and with each kiss, I feel parts of my heart mending as if he’s the only one who’s able to do it.

  My eyes flutter closed as his final kiss lands on my lips, sealing my fate and his right along with it.

  “My Sariel,” I breathe across his lips.

  “My Nephal,” he responds.

  He tastes like my future and all the things I’ve been waiting to have while his name was whispered from my lips.

  He pulls away.

  His hair is jet black, his eyes a clear blue, nearly white, and suddenly they flame orange only to go back to the green blue as he stares me down, his hands move to my shoulders.

  I lick my lips, enjoying the lingering taste of his mouth on mine. I could stay with him like this forever.

  He presses a hand to my chest. “I can’t heal physical pain, but I can at least heal your heart.”

  “With yours?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Possibly.”

  “How?”

  “Magic?” He offers with a smile that has me wanting to climb across him and press myself against his armor. “At least to you.”

  His hand goes to my chest, it feels warm, and then he starts to sing, a song I don’t recognize but could have sworn I’ve heard before. His voice is low, hypnotic.

  “Stars of the sky,” he sings. “Stars of my brothers, my sisters.” An icy tear slides down his cheek then falls against me. “Sing her healing, burn down on this creation, watch over the souls that have left as if they are your own. Sing their song, hear their cry, as they rest in peace, they sleep, they do not die.”

  Warmth fills my chest until a slow burn spreads from the middle out, down my arms and legs.

  And I see him.

  I see my son.

  He’s smiling.

  Holding someone’s hand.

  A tear slides down my cheek as he nods at me and then smiles. After that, he runs off, releasing whoever’s hand he holds to play with the other children.

  “He is happy,” Sariel whispers. “He is free, no longer bonded to this world, yet still bonded to you. His soul will always be connected to yours, and yours to his until it is time for you to sleep as well, as is your other son who is now with the creators.”

  I didn’t think I could cry anymore, but I do. This time in gratefulness as Sariel continues to hold me.

  “Sariel,” a man barks his name and opens the tent
quickly, though it’s no mere man, it’s someone in golden armor. “We must return. It is finished.”

  “All right.” Sariel rises, the man leaves, and I’m left with this longing I can’t possibly explain or bear. I need him.

  I love him.

  Maybe I’ve loved him my entire life.

  I thought it was worship, but minutes in this man’s arms… this angel’s arms, has me ready to do anything to get him to stay, but I know his place isn’t here.

  It’s on the mountain.

  His place is to watch me.

  I take comfort that his eyes will be on me, but I also want to touch him again. I want to kiss him until my lips are numb, until my body is sated, until the desire I feel is cooled.

  Sariel looks down at me, a smile on his lips. “You are very pretty, Nephal.”

  I didn’t expect him to compliment me. I feel myself blushing, and then I reach for his hair, touching it and twisting it with my fingers before giving it a tug and pulling his head down. I’m amazed he has zero resistance despite his power as his mouth molds against mine. I’m in his arms again, writhing against him shamelessly—the same way he does against me. His helmet is off, his eyes are a blazing glory, almost hot on my face as he opens them in wonder and stares at me between kisses like he can’t believe he’s doing what he’s doing.

  I kiss him again and again.

  My mouth is swollen, as is his.

  And then we slowly break apart, as he sets me on my feet and sighs, reaching down for his helmet and putting it on his head and scowling at the flap of the tent. I hope it’s because he won’t leave me, but I know he will.

  My life will be similar to that of Helena. I will love from afar, and he will watch me. He will force himself to forget me, and so the cycle will continue, except this time I’m going to keep him for myself.

  I won’t tell his tales.

  They’re mine, after all.

  I step back and lower my head. “Thank you for what you’ve done. Thank you for your sacrifice—for…” I hesitate and then say it. “For your love. Thank you for your love, however brief it may be.”

  “Love” —he touches my head—“is never brief. It spans lifetimes—it spans the cosmos, and the human heart is capable of very great love.”

  “And yours?” I ask boldly.

  His smile is sad. “Even more so.”

  I reach for his hand and hold it. I sear it into my memory, and then I watch him walk away from me, away from my life, my village, my future.

  I smile in order to be brave, but as I watch the rest of the golden army walk back up to their mountain, the loss that I feel in my soul is so deep I think I might spend the rest of my life wanting him.

  I touch my stomach and imagine one where he was normal, where we could have a child, how special that child would be.

  How very special.

  He would change the world—no, he would change the cosmos.

  NINE

  Sariel

  I watched from the mountain.

  I watched her, and for days I felt like I was going mad with want for her. Between Bannik’s warnings and the rest of my brothers’ judgement for even shifting my gaze as she played with the children in the village or made bread, I was slowly losing focus.

  The stars still sang, but their song was distant, just like they were. My entire being hummed and sang for her, no longer singing for the creation I was made for.

  I knew it was wrong, but what do you do when something wrong feels so right? When your soul feels intertwined with someone you should have never met? And why haven’t the creators punished us yet? We’ve broken many rules in the last hundred years, and still, they are silent.

  And we are forgotten.

  So I justify.

  I ask myself, why not? Why not spend my life doing something that has more purpose than this? Why can I not spend my life loving up close rather than far away?

  My fingers twitch.

  She walks out of her tent and pauses, the smile on her face is bright, and then it falters as she looks to her left. Her eyes feel like they’re burning through mine.

  I want her desperately.

  I don’t even understand this feeling inside me as I look down at her. I can hear warnings around me as my brothers read my thoughts and body language.

  For the first time in my life, I truly look away from the mountain—all I see is her, my Nephal.

  So I walk.

  It takes next to no time to make it down the mountain, along with the protests of my brothers. I ignore those voices most dear to me and follow my heart until I stop right in front of her.

  Gasps and whispers are heard around us.

  I toss off my helmet, and I pull her into my arms, then whisper against her lips, “You will be mine.”

  “Yes.” Tears fall from her eyes. “Even if we are punished.”

  “Even then,” I say back. “To have your heart, I will take all the punishment in the world.”

  She kisses me hard. How I missed her taste. My fingers go to her silky hair and enjoy the feeling of it against my skin, and my heart finally feels whole, possibly for the first time in my entire existence. I only pray that if the creators are looking down, they understand why I came down from the mountain.

  I was captured, heart, body, and soul.

  I had no choice but to follow what I was given the minute I was created—not just my mind but the heart that beats for this woman over and over again.

  I don’t think, I simply carry her into her tent despite the people watching us, despite my brothers looking on with anger—I can hear their thoughts, that we will doom them, that we will be cast out.

  And yet I don’t stop pulling off my armor after I set her down by the furs. I peel it off for the first time since first putting it on. It lands with a thunk and gleams from the floor as I stand before her in nothing but a black tunic and matching trousers.

  Her eyes widen as I continue to undress. Does she know what’s about to happen can’t ever be undone? That I’ll love her forever and even more past that?

  I hesitate only to have her reach for my clothing, my shirt first, as it comes over my head. With my help bending over, she gets it off and gasps; a warm hand touches my smooth skin.

  And I thought all this time I was missing Heaven.

  Heaven was right in front of me all along, wasn’t it?

  My heart beats so hard it nearly hurts my chest. I reach for her shoulder, where her dress connects across her body, and give it a tug. It falls to a pool at her feet.

  She doesn’t cover herself up, merely looks at me with pride.

  As she should.

  She’s the Crown of Creation—not this planet—this woman.

  I want to worship her with every part of myself over and over again until she screams my name from her lips and then again for more screams, more worship, more everything.

  Her breasts are heavy, I’ve never looked upon a human woman this way, and now I understand at least partially why the creators have been so protective of this certain race, this planet.

  They are perfection.

  They are special.

  Her body is beautiful, unique. Her curves fit into the palms of my hands as I reach for them and simply hold her in front of me while her own hands move to my trousers. Our eyes lock.

  And I’m again reminded that there will be no coming back from this.

  I exhale as she unties them and pulls them down.

  I have never felt so aroused in my existence, have never slept with a woman, or any sort of being, and yet my body knows exactly what it’s supposed to do.

  I’m rock hard, aching, dripping for her.

  I’m almost afraid to breathe or move for fear of spilling myself on Nephal when I want this experience to be everything it should be—a mating of two souls into one.

  She takes me in her hand.

  I let out a moan I know my brothers hear and feel.

  I can sense their ecstasy and immediately try to shut d
own our connection—this moment is for me and her—not them.

  Every part of me is big, but she seems to take it in stride as she feels me and then stands up on her tiptoes and beckons me to follow her down.

  Downfall.

  And down we fall—onto her furs. I flip her over onto her back, careful to keep my weight off her, as I kiss down her chest, suck her nipples and massage her body. When she arches from my touch, I continue my ministrations, exploring her. I may have never been with a woman, but I have seen everything there is to see on how to please one. I have looked. I have wanted. I have sinned. And yet, I have not. I stay in this moment and finally understand what true beauty is. What love is. Why this creation is special. And I want all of it.

  I lower my mouth between her legs and eat my fill. She trembles around me, her legs locked on my neck. Is there anything better than this taste? I don’t think I have experienced it once in this lifetime.

  My tongue explores and learns what she loves the most. I add pressure only to pull back as her body shakes.

  I might burst.

  I probably will, actually, but it will be worth it, won’t it? Just to taste her, to taste my love, the woman meant for me, the one I watch.

  Her moans are so loud I’m sure the whole village can hear her. She’s gorgeous with her hair splayed across the furs, her chest heaving, breasts begging for more attention that I want to give.

  “Sariel.” She squeezes my head with her thighs. “I need you—I need more.”

  Saying no would be like dying.

  I slowly rise up, lips glistening, eyes on fire for her—using all of my self-control to keep my wings in and losing it as they suddenly spread out from my back.

  She looks both afraid and excited as I sink into her, and using my wings, I pull her into my arms, fully entering her and let us float in between heaven and earth in that tent.

  We float while I move my hips and hold her steady, while she screams my name and claws at me in ecstasy.

  And then I twirl us in slow circles as I let her ride me, making sure she’s safe in my wings, safe in my arms.

  “This is…” She can’t speak any more words, her lips part on a cry as I thrust so hard I no longer hear the stars—I see them. “Everything.”

  “It will always be,” I whisper, taking her lips again.