Chapter 12
Cyril’s Compound, Tetartos Realm
Cyril heard the clink as he slammed a test vial into its slot with more force than he intended. He was still furious at the Tria’s ineptitude. It had taken years to complete that special formula to use on the Guardians. Then he’d patiently shelved it for use after the mating experiments came to fruition. He’d thought to have found a way around the mating spell centuries ago, and it was his own impatience that had made him take that reckless chance on the Tria’s offer.
He’d managed to stay off the Guardians’ grid for a very long time in preparation for all his work to finalize. He wouldn’t be so reckless a second time.
He blew out a frustrated breath. His mating spell workaround was almost finished. The current results were promising, far surpassing anything his father and uncle had done in their work against the spell. He felt the edge of success inching closer.
The last round of tests were the closest he’d come to perfection. He’d just injected the new formula into Specimen Four, and he had at least a few hours before he would see any results. Four, who’d been abused by Elizabeth and had needed the damage repaired before he could do anything further. His jaw clamped down. He hated wasting energies. Elizabeth would need to be dealt with.
Cyril’s body felt tight; he was furious and needed release. Walking out of his personal lab, he moved out and down the tunnel. It was quiet except for the guards patrolling.
Cyril made his way through a metal door spelled to open at his telekinetic touch.
Elizabeth had managed to fortify his ranks nicely with the defectors from the local covens, up until the last few years. He’d found many a use for them. Mostly in experiments on the mating spell, but many others were enhanced and used in case the Guardians ever found him. Interesting that such inferior beings held such potential as guards. The Guardians’ curse against harming humans made the Mageias an ideal first line of defense.
He needed more, but Elizabeth had given many excuses for not finding more local mortals for his work. Fortunately for her, she’d been able to find an alternative option by convincing Cynthia on Earth to send over specimens in return for a youth serum. It gave him new options.
Cynthia had no knowledge of the Immortal races, had dealt solely with the Guardians, and knew only that Cyril was the son of Apollo. No mortal on Earth seemed to realize the races existed outside of myth, and that particular secret served him well in dealing with the Mageia. She had no idea that what he sent her was primarily Aletheia semen he’d mixed with added compulsion. It was to his advantage that she thought his Demi-God powers were keeping her young.
As he neared the entrance to his private rooms, he thought about his options in dealing with Elizabeth. He should have been able to find a way around using the infuriating female, but nothing had come of the experiments he’d tried. So, for now, he needed her and her unique abilities.
He passed the hall mirror that led to his suite; glassy, highly dilated eyes gazed back at him. It was definitely time to gain some release. Immortals were sexual beings by nature. They needed orgasm almost as much as world’s energies to remain in optimum condition. Something he had neglected to schedule with how close he was to creating the final formula.
He moved through his rooms, noting that Elizabeth was spread out on a chaise of black, her pale skin encased in a silk robe of emerald, strategically open to reveal one long smooth leg. Her blood-red hair fanned out against the raised back of the chair. She painted a beautiful picture, one that he’d taken his pleasure with often over their centuries in exile. She always seemed to know when he’d gone too long, was too focused on his multiple experiments.
He would have her, but she had chosen the wrong time to disobey his rules regarding test subjects. Today it would not be a mutually enjoyable experience.
Against the wall lay the massive wood bed carved with dozens of bodies entwined in an ancient orgy scene. The bed had been designed for his father, Apollo. It was his most prized possession. It had been one of the first things he’d had the Mageias on Earth procure and send to him. His chest filled with pride whenever he saw it. Soon he would be more powerful than even his father.
He’d amassed his own formidable legacy. His first priority after Exile had been to create his own compound on Tetartos, away from the Immortal races that were looking to kill him for the part he had played in his father’s labs. It had taken decades to complete.
Then he’d spent several more years training the pathetic Mageia covens that Elizabeth was able to mind-link to on Earth. Making it possible for those primitive beings to recover and send much of his father’s possessions to Tetartos. In return for procuring the items, he educated the much inferior Mageias on how to channel their powers. He made sure those covens were wary enough of the Guardians so as to not be seduced by Sirena to come to Tetartos. They were much more useful to him in the human Realm.
“Elizabeth,” he said as he started pulling off his shoes and clothes.
She eyed him seductively, lashes lowered over piercing gray eyes.
“I suggest you divest yourself of the robe and anything underneath. Then I want you on your knees in the center of the bed. Attach the neck chains and be waiting.”
Her eyes flickered at his demands, but she began to comply. She had a dominant nature, and to have the tables turned was something she hated, yet she had enough intelligence not to voice her distaste. It didn’t matter, her dislike always showed as a slight change in her eye color. Elizabeth’s time in the labs had formed her. He knew she was a special plaything for his father and Hermes. She’d been a breeder before that, yet, somehow, managed to change the situation to her advantage. He still wasn’t sure of the dynamics between the trio and how it came about. His father had permitted him in the labs infrequently, always keeping his experiments to himself. Apollo had no trust for even his own offspring. Cyril had just begun to enter his father’s inner circle before the Exile.
After Exile, fearing retribution from the large numbers of those she had tormented in the labs, Elizabeth made herself as useful as possible to Cyril. He had been amused by her, at first. Maybe the fact that she was once valued by his father kept her alive in the beginning, but it was her use with contacting the other Realms that allowed her to live this long. He realized now that he had given her free rein for too long. Foolhardy. She was at first the epitome of a dutiful servant. Slowly, she became more destructive as he allowed her time to make sure his test subjects understood their place. Once his formula proved accurate, he would mate the most powerful of the females, taking the best for himself, though he doubted one would be her. Bonded couples shared powers, and he would choose well. He hardened, thinking about all he could amass.
The formula would allow for multiple mates, in a unique way his father had never imagined.
It had always infuriated him that those few Immortals that mated became more powerful while his true mate had somehow eluded him. He knew she had to be out there, but to have multiple powers would be even better. He’d be free to choose. He took a deep breath, needing to focus on the problem at hand.
“Do you remember test subject four, Elizabeth?” His voice sounded smooth and calm to his own ears. “It took quite a bit of time and energy to get her fit for my last formula, and you know I do not enjoy wasting energies…” The last had the effect he was looking for. She paled a shade lighter and lowered her eyes, jaw still tense.
“I apologize, Cyril. I must have gotten carried away. I hadn’t realized I’d done such damage. It will not happen again.” The apology, offered in a much more subdued manner without any of her normal exuberance, showcased her abundant acting ability. He only saw a slight twitch of her eyes indicating she’d rather tear him to pieces, like the she-devil she was, than apologize.
“Yes, well, that won’t do. I’ve grown tired of your displays, so from this point on you will obey Kane.”
She made a choked sound and sputtered. He knew the female had a sadistic bend toward his people. He truly didn’t care, but he was sick of dealing directly with her. He needed her abilities, but he didn’t need to fix her destruction. She would be someone else’s problem and he didn’t care what Kane, his second in command now, did to her as retribution for any time she’d tortured the male.
He breathed out. He felt far better now.