Lother God of Storms

The last few days it had grown cold long before sunset. I could feel the end. THE end. The end of my life. The end of all our lives. The feeling of emending doom increased with every second.

We had been running for three months and only now did we start to lose this game of cat and mouse. I was beginning to believe that the only reason we made it this far was by magical assistance. Only question was, who was crazy enough to help us?

The arm around my waist tightened, bringing my attention back to the god whose warmth was draped across my body like living fur and the softest of velvets. For some reason, after the last attack, I became unable to keep my own body temperature above seventy-five degrees. So, for the time being, I was "stuck" with at least one guard watching over my body PERSONALLY while the other had to stand guard over the two of us. I didn't mind in the least. Really. I didn't. More time with the most gorgeous Sidhe of the past few thousand years or more? What self-respecting girl wouldn't swoon at the thought?

I rolled until I could glimpse a flash of pale blue eyes, like the sky on a cold winter day, before they disappeared behind a curtain of waist length black hair. Lothor was the gentlest of the guards. He was all soft lines and feather light caresses. He was just....soft. Even his voice was low and non-threatening. Probably the only thing that had kept him alive all these years. At times he seems to disappear. For being thousands of years old, he was a baby. He doesn't know anything about strategy or court politics. He was a liability in "negotiations" and it never helped that he looked to be only 18 years old in human years. The only thing about him that wasn't soft the majority of the time were his eyes. They were the only thing about him that reminded others of what his powers had once been. They were blue. But not just a regular blue but the blue of a warm, clear summer's day and then the next they would be the storm-cloud blue. Lothor had once been worshipped as a god of storms but like the others, he lost his powers as the people stopped believing. He was also the only one of my guards, other than Amatheon, who still goes by his/her original name. He is also the only one of the Egyptians left not in hiding, or so I had been told. All of this I had been informed of when I returned to the courts, about six months before, before the war broke out, and I inherited my royal birth right of my own guards.

His grip tightened again, drawing me into his body until my face was buried in the bend of his neck, my breasts pressed to his chest, his cock trapped against our stomachs. Even under that small touch he began to grow, showing just how much he enjoyed being with me. The hand on my back began to rub up and down. More soothing than erotic. His other arm reached from under me to stroke my hair. The intimacy of the actions was too much. I was undone. I wrapped my arms and legs around his body and clung. I gave into my fear and I squeezed harder.

"My Lady, it is fine. We are all fine. Nothing can harm you so long as you trust us to protect you," he whispered, barely audible over the rush of the blood pounding in my ears. Lies. It was all lies. None of us were safe. As long as the Queen hunted us, we would never be safe. Her warriors had nearly killed me just a few days before. I knew first hand that no matter how fast we ran, we would never be safe until either I was dead, or she was.

Still, it was comforting to hear him say it. It made me nostalgic for the good ol' days. It also gave me more cause to fear for him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me 'my lady'?" I managed to keep all traces of fear from my voice and to make light of the situation.

He laughed gently.

"I am sorry, m'lady," he said, still laughing.

"You're hopeless, you know that?" I was smiling as I said it, but I realized too late that the question was enough to kill the light and joking air I had woven around us. My arms and legs had begun to loosen up from around his waist and neck until we were gently holding each other.

"Belle, I am sorry. Forgive me, but for the last 547 years of your life I was required to address you by title only. It is just going to take some time getting used to." He sighed, hugging me to his body. "We served the Queen for over 1,500 years. We were never allowed to use her Goddess given name."

There were at least a million things left unsaid between me and my guards regarding the Queen. This was one of them, being enslaved to her for the majority of their lives. All I really knew is that they hated her in their own special ways and they were at her beck and call, their magic was her magic. The most beautiful and powerful men and women in the history of our people and she chose to ignore them. She only paid them attention when she needed them to kill someone or when she was feeling particularly nasty and needed someone to torture who had no choice in the matter. I know what you're thinking; didn't she at least have sex with them? No. She only takes humans. Even worse than that, she forced the guards to watch. Sad, I know. The Queen had always been known as sadistic, that was just another way to show it.

My legs had long since slid off his body, so we were just lying, facing each other, one of my arms under his body, high on his back, the other resting low on his hip. One of his hands mirrored mine with the other under my head, stretched out under my pillow.

I raised my hand and moved a lock of hair out of his face. There was a glittering of unshed tears in eyes the color of the sky before a storm. It made my heart hurt to see that abused look in his eyes. I wanted to chase that look from his eyes. I had to. I leaned forward the last inch until my lips brushed his. He made a sound low in his throat, a moan more animal than human.

The kiss went from being just a gentle brush of lips to something more, something much, much more. He kissed me with such bruising force I had no choice but to either open my mouth to his or cut my lips on my own teeth. I opened to him. He kissed me with not just his lips, but with his tongue and teeth, as if he was feeding from my mouth. It was shocking and vaguely intriguing. He was my gentlest lover, the least dominate but you wouldn't think so by how he was behaving now. It was exciting and a little frightening.

He used his one arm and the rest of his body to pin me to the bed. He used both of his hands to hold my wrists above my head. He rose up on one elbow and gazed down at me with lightening flashing in his eyes. I was efficiently "tied up" and my heart was racing with excitement.

There was a look in his eyes. That dark look all men get when they know that you won't say no. But there was something else there too. Uncertainty. I wanted to chase that look away as well. I bent one of my legs at the knee, and the moment his body brushed the front of mine, my fertility magic rose and the look vanished. Replaced only by that dark light.

He shifted his hips slightly and the tip of his head brushed over the spot. That spot. My breath caught in my throat. He heard it and did it over and over again until I began to feel it. It was as if my body was a cup and each time he rubbed that spot, one more drop of pleasure filled that cup. His rhythm faltered and he plunged into me.

It was too much. The cup overflowed and ripped through my body in mind numbing waves. I screamed. I writhed underneath him, arms freed and searching, searching for something to hold on to. Something to grab and tear and rip. Something to help me deal with the pleasure pulsing through my body. My hands found his back and I raked nails down him and tore and screamed until I was breathless and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. In the recesses of my mind, I knew that in the middle of all my activity he came as well. I could feel it.

Sound came back in stages. First, the racing of my heart, followed by my breath coming out in short gasps and finally I noticed Lothor's erratic breathing, coming out in short, raspy breaths. I wasn't worried much. He had been doing more work than me, using more muscles than me. I was willing to believe that until he started shaking and his body started going blue. His breath came out and a large gust of wind blew through that room. He moaned and a clap of thunder sounded from above. I could see a flash of lightening in the corner of my eye from the window to our left. He was flaunting his powers. But he shouldn't have any left. All the Sidhe lost his/her power thousands of years ago, right? I had known him all my life and I had never seen him do anything like this. It was scary.

His body was turning purple. Everywhere that our bodies touched, he was cold. He was freezing to death. I didn't know what to do. I was screaming when the rest of my lovers came running in, guns out, looking for the danger. It was at that moment that I realized that my magic was still up and that it held them all away. The danger happened to be me.