Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

was so caught up in the words he needed, in deciding on a way to tell her that he almost didn’t feel the snap in the back of his mind, the twinge of something breaking. His jaw slackened in horror; all warmth leached from him by fear. In the thicket in which they had camped, still a half hour’s walk away, his ward had been broken by something immensely powerful.

“Delyth,” he gasped, all color gone from his cheeks. “Come on! We have to hurry!”

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Delyth woke to the press of fingers around her throat.

She gasped, grasping at air that had suddenly moved out of reach. Alphonse was above her, face contorted in the mask Delyth knew as Enyo, eyes burning coals rather than soft amber. For a moment, the warrior didn’t act, thick with sleep and shock.

Then she wrapped her hands around Enyo’s wrist and pulled, trying to pry her fingers away from the rapidly bruising skin at Delyth’s throat. There was a lightening of pressure, a small give…

And then Enyo’s fingers clamped more tightly around her neck, stronger than any mere mortal even in her delicate, human shell.

Desperately, Delyth bucked her hips, shoved at Enyo’s chest, at her face. Spots were dancing before her eyes, her lungs spasming for air.

She had so little time…

Enyo growled and bore down all the harder, and Delyth flung out her arms, desperate to score any blow, any attack that might ward off the Goddess. One of her hands met something hard with the rough, skin-biting texture of stone—Enyo’s arm? The Goddess released the warrior at once with a hiss of pain, reeling back to bring her injured hand up. It was grey-black with diseased lines crawling up towards her shoulder. There was no time to find an opening, though. Enyo launched forward, and as Delyth threw her arm up to protect herself, Enyo latched her teeth onto the warrior’s forearm.

The Goddess tasted blood and groaned. It didn’t seem to matter when Delyth landed a blow to her face or kicked at Enyo’s belly, trying to pry her off. It was another jolt to her arm that made Enyo open her jaws and haul back.

They stared at one another from across the tent, Delyth panting, Enyo licking her lips. The Goddess’s face contorted, some conflicting emotion twisting her features. She licked bloody lips and arched her brows. “Have you missed our nights together, Ba’oto?”

“I spent no nights with you,” Delyth growled, clamping a hand over her bleeding arm. Did she have time to draw a rune trap? There was plenty of blood for it. And when would she get another opportunity with Enyo so alone?

She needed to distract the Goddess, some way to get her attention long enough to sketch the rune into the floor of her tent…

“What happened to your arm, Enyo? Can’t you heal what your kid did?” she asked, slowly moving her bloodied fingers to the ground hidden behind her thigh. The wound was troubling… Did Alphonse feel the pain? Would she recover once they freed her from Enyo? She must—she had to.

And why, for that matter, hadn’t Enyo healed it? She had stolen Alphonse’s abilities before…

❂

“He’s an impressive bastard, I’ll give him that. I’d be proud if I weren’t so furious.” Enyo muttered, looking at her ruined arm before leaning forward.

It was strange, but with her hair wild and her wings half spread, Enyo thought Delyth looked lovely. They hadn’t been this near without interruption in so very long.

Her anger mixed with lust and something else… Soft and delicate and… Enyo scooted closer to Delyth. Just an inch. Maybe two.

To kill her, of course.

“But, being in this pathetic human body, even with my powers mostly restored, I cannot undo what Mascen has done. Not to this body, not to Rhosan. He is a God, after all.” And despite everything, Enyo was still some mixture of mortal and Goddess.

Her eyes were wide, and her breaths falling quickly. “I wish I could snap your neck, Ba’oto. You’re as traitorous and beastly as my son. Yet you have something that I need. Where is Aryus’s artifact? Tell me where it is, and I’ll leave this body.”

Delyth hesitated a long moment, her throat convulsing visibly as she swallowed, her fidgeting in the dirt ceasing. Tricky beast, trying to make a little trap for her Goddess. Enyo wouldn’t fall for that again. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Enyo’s eyes slitted, and her smile turned sly. “I don’t want to hurt you, Delyth. Alphonse certainly doesn’t want me to either… She and I had a little talk earlier.” Enyo scooted closer again, gaze on Delyth’s closed face. “She told me some things…”

As fast as a striking snake, Enyo’s good hand lashed out, reaching for Delyth’s wrist, stopping her from drawing the runes. “Trying to trap your Goddess? You really are the worst priestess I’ve ever had.” Enyo wrenched Delyth’s hand away and twisted back back back. It would snap, and then she’d have a broken limb just like Enyo.

Only… A most uncomfortable feeling twisted in Enyo’s gut. She wasn’t certain if it was some sort of bathroom need or illness, but the more she hurt Delyth, the more the feeling increased. Snarling, Enyo released the warrior’s arm, only to grab her by the shoulder and pull her close.

Their lips were a mere breath apart. Enyo’s painted deep red with blood, Delyth’s tight with pain and anger.

༄

Delyth’s breath hitched despite herself. This was Enyo, not Alphonse. Not her lovely little bird, and yet her voice was the same, the warmth from her body, so close now, familiar. Beneath the smells of rust and blood, pine filled her nose—the scent of Alphonse’s hair, bright and clean.

She couldn’t move closer, couldn’t move away. For a long moment, she was as immobile as the mountains from which she came, her body traitorously reacting to Alphonse’s. And then she stood, staggering as though drunk towards the entrance