“You disgusting—” A gag covered my mouth and cut me off.
“Now, pay attention, Vervain,” Narcissus said as he slid between Fake-Me's legs. “If you close your eyes or look away, I'll be forced to use my magic to keep them open, and that won't be comfortable you. I do so want you to be comfortable while I show you how well I can fuck you.”
I narrowed my glare at Narcissus, and he laughed before he nuzzled Fake-me's sex. He had positioned them so he could watch me as he worked, and he held my stare as he began to earnestly lick, suck, and rub until the fake-me was writhing and begging for more.
“See? You love it.” Narcissus declared. Then he looked at Fake-Me. “ Is this what you want, Vervain?”
“Oh, yes,” Fake-Me said. “Lick me just like that, Narcissus.”
I rolled my eyes. He couldn't even come up with creative pillow talk.
“Show me how much you want it, Vervain.” Narcissus positioned himself closer to me on his knees.
Fake-Me crawled to him and started sucking his cock. That was rough to watch, especially with them so close. I had to let my vision go unfocused but the sounds of moaning and sucking were hard to ignore. Then Narcissus reached over and slapped my face.
“I know you're not watching!” Narcissus grabbed my chin and angled my head down to watch Fake-Me suck him as he simultaneously grabbed her head and shoved her further onto him. She choked with wet, gagging sounds, and he sighed in pleasure. Did he really think this was going to sway me? Sorry; I'm not into being gagged or choked.
“That's enough.” He pushed Fake-Me onto her back and fell upon her savagely.
She helped him get his cock inside her and then he began a rapid thrusting. Fake-Me held him tenderly, kissing his neck and the line of his jaw as he pumped away. He kept glancing at me and changing positions so I could get a better view as he alternated between fucking, rubbing, and sucking Fake-Me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Narcissus came, shouting triumphantly, and then collapsed over Fake-Me. She met my eyes over his shoulder and smiled. It gave me the damn shivers.
Then the shivering ran through Fake-Me—her whole body blinking in and out of opacity rapidly—and Narcissus perked up.
“Someone's knocking!”
“Knocking on what?” I watched him warily.
“On my metaphorical door.” He chuckled. “Come along, dearest, I want to introduce you to my friends.”
Dearest? Well, I guess it could have been worse. He could have been a god of the dead with the power to control my body. Been there, done that, don't want to go there again. At least I'd been attracted to Anubis, Narcissus just got more unattractive the longer I was around him. Have you ever had that happen before? A guy gets uglier and uglier the more you get to know him? It wasn't even Narcissus' murderous nature that was turning me off. Gods know, I've been attracted to murderers before; Trevor tried to kill me the first time we met. Instead, it was Narcissus' moronic psychoticness that really made me want to hurl. Yes; I know psychoticness is not a word but it should be and now, it is. You're welcome.
Back to the moron.
As we walked, my horse track outfit of jeans and a T-shirt changed into something that belonged in the 1950s. Peptol Bismol pink gingham clung to my torso in a tailored bodice with short sleeves and a stand-up collar, and then it ballooned out in a fluffy skirt equipped with enough crinoline to outfit an entire ballet troupe. Around us, the bedroom disappeared and Narcissus' receiving room took its place. Except, he had it dolled up in a style to match my dress... and his new suit. Stiff orange couches crouched around his precious pool on shag rugs, a laminated pedestal table held a brass pendant lamp that shed light on a large, kitschy ashtray in the shape of a tiki, and a sideboard held crystal decanters of liquor and a red-enameled seltzer bottle.
“Sit down, dear.” Narcissus escorted me to a loveseat.
“Now, I'm in an episode of Mad Men, and he thinks I'm his little woman,” I muttered under my breath. “This just keeps getting crazier.”
Narcissus didn't hear me; he was too busy concentrating on whatever he had to do to answer the knock. I watched the hallway expectantly and wasn't at all surprised when the Gay Gods and the Bottle Water Goddess walked in. I should have killed them when I'd had the chance. Why had I listened to Silenus?
Disani was in the lead with Qaus and Gish close behind her. She was Amazon tall with pin-straight, black hair hanging to her narrow waist. Her ivy eyes burned bright against the background of her dark skin. She was beautiful but had a cruel, careless look to her face. Careless as in; she didn't care about her beauty or what anyone thought of it. I thought back to what I'd learned about her and agreed that description fit her. Disani was hardcore.
The Supreme Goddess of the Kafir, Disani ruled both Fertility and Death. The myths say that she killed her own son; beheaded him because he was the product of rape... by a demon. I blinked as I recalled the rest. Disani was a psychopomp; she carries the souls of the dead. Sweet Tarts! Why hadn't I thought of her when I'd been investigating the demon deaths? We were specifically looking for psychopomps. Not that it mattered; we found the man behind it all. Katila and his crazy, demon-killing mommy, Dhumorna. But the similarities were striking, especially to Dhumorna who had been known as the Destroyer of Demons.
Gish and Qaus had been harder to find information on. They were gods whose worship had truly waned and hardly anyone remembered them anymore. Gish was the Afghani God of War. He was known to be a
