The Jackal's Prize

Not a pinch of eureka had awakened a sleeping memory. The name Athena did not mean anything to her except that it was somewhat familiar. The lady, still pinned under the muscular man's weight, was conflicted. 

After a while—his demeaning force had subsided, and she gently moved him away as she sat up, stared at the wall, and wandered in abysmal thinking. 

The man called Anubis was perplexed as he gazed into her back. It was as white as milk, but the scars and wounds had turned it into a fabric with patterns—but it was still beautiful. She was beautiful—tantalizing enough for some poor man to be on edge and plead for her simple kiss on his lips. 

"Is something wrong?" He finally asked after a minute of crickets and the growing geophony. 

"You know my name, but I do not. You seemed to have more tales about me than I could perceive. Why am I only seeing a large fog whenever I want to return to those memories?"

Before saying anything, the man grabbed the pomegranate, sitting beside the oil lamp, and offered half to her. As the downhearted maiden reluctantly accepted his gift, he started, "One thing I am very certain of is that you are someone many adored. You are also many men's hidden dreams. Your beauty was concealed behind your quiet etiquette, for it was your mind won on the forefront."

Regardless of the eerie atmosphere that encircled them, the way his ego marked into her—firm, prideful, and quite assured with his telling, the maiden sprouted some uncanny fondness for him. Her emotion surprised her. Scattered all over, but she was all ears on what he was saying. 

As he curled the tips of her dark golden hair, he then narrated tales he could recall—especially their first meeting. "You were weak—a little lamb about to be sacrificed. But I can still see the strength in your eyes. The resistance you had displayed was quite bold."

"Can you tell me more about it?" 

He laughed again. "Ha! Well, it is for me to know and for you to find out."

"Everything is not making sense. I can tell you are sincere, but I can also sense the lies. I do not know which one I should embrace." With a genuine question painted on her face, she turned towards him, pleading with her eyes to know the truth. "Nothing comes out of me. Everything is vague. I do not even know how I came here or my name. Who's Athena? What do you mean by payment? What happened to me before? I do not want to play some silly games! I just want some clarifications."

However, the man's notion was of a trickster—never would he give information easily, no matter how she pleads. He loved his games. He loved the gamble between pain and affliction and love and contentment. And much like how his mind was running, the lady beside him was his prey to tease. The scent of her remained on his nostrils, blocking other aromas as if selfish for his attention. There was also her whole audacious body that screamed to be touched—to be unceasingly worshiped. It called for him for more of his caresses, though her lips did not part for such yearning. 

Filled with her inquiries, he knew his game of cognizance commenced. She might have seen the inconsistency of his tale about her, but he knew he could twist the screws of her head more, knowing she was becoming more of a child in wonderment rather than the acclaimed goddess. 

"I am no priest of yours to narrate the events of your gravitas nor your father to recall with you of your beginnings. All I want to tell you is something that pleased me."

"Then tell me of those pleasurable memories." Her voice escalated to demand—challenging him of his confident stand. 

The dusk of his façade contrasted with the luster that gleamed all over her. Once they stared into each other's orbs, the keenness that both hindered sparked. The maiden was truly gullible—too naïve to the world around her. 

But her aura was of a woman—lovely and enticing, blessed by the touch of Aphrodite. 

She was his dream, his desire. And for a while, he wanted her—he wanted her so bad he could no longer fight the budding thirst that only she could satisfy. 

He did not answer her last question. However, hands slowly crippled on her thigh, feeling its smoothness as he buried his nose in her hair. She smelled indeed of a rich garden. The flowers that crowned her head and entwined in her long hair were a marvel—yet, one by one, he took those florals out as his breaths merged into her scent. Her locks then flowed down like a river of bronze once he had removed the knots and pins. Her aroma lingered more, penetrating through the air. 

The night was perfect. Rain heavily drizzled into the earth. The sky was purple, like the Tyrian color from the shell the gods adored. The wind was crisp—a perfect counter to the warmth brewing inside the space. 

After engulfing his senses with her smell, his mouth found her ear. He nibbled it fervently until he finally found the sensitive spot. She squirmed and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. The sensation felt new. His teeth gently bit her helix, causing her to gasp and hold on to his leg as she could no longer bear the soring ardor. 

He smiled behind his mischievousness, jollying at his win when, at last, she now showed signs of defeat. He nibbled on her ear more before drawing down to her neck, which was even more sensitive. 

All of her was the smell of a viper, poisoning his senses and paralyzing the remaining logic of his brain. She was so overwhelming that one could not just easily let go. Oh, how he was elated by his success, leaving wet kisses to let her know she was no longer a single entity but his—a trophy meant to be on a pedestal. 

He was slowly manifesting the craving he was concealing—gradually becoming a monster, eating her, sucking all life out of her, and leaving her in a state of disarray and more questions about the unusual ordeal.

 Everything was new to her: his touch and yearning kisses—everything was foreign, especially coming from a strange man who was still bound in shadow and grays. 

The tides were brutal to her as she was also fighting half of her spirit, which was now under some spell the unknown man—somehow—secretly befell upon her. 

In every running second, the touches had become more alluring, sweeter—indeed, a temptation that turned her disposition into a topsy-turvy. Now, both man and woman were in quiet denial at the thought of being one another's Achilles's heel, for such a notion was an unpleasant truth to be admitted. Yet their bodies ran in the opposite current, no longer paying any heed to their convoluted head as they spared no moment to claim each other's heat. 

Pomegranate skin touched the floor. Crystal mosaic now drenched in crimson shade. Farewell to the stories that the design conveyed. Farewell to the shine that lit in glittering specs as its pureness was now all stained with scarlet that would soon leave a mark of lilac. Her hands were also in the spectrum of crimson, blushing from its shame and acceptance. She was red as the chaos and intimacy that ruled above them. 

A soft moan slipped from her lips as he playfully bit her décolletage. Her nails burrowed deep into the skin of his leg in response, prompting more whimper. 

He laughed at her, enchanted by the sound she made. 

It was clear that shame ate her whole as she became more of a rose. In protest, she jolted and freed herself once more from his embrace, giving him a childish pout and a frown that commanded him for an explanation. 

"I implore you—what is all this? I—I cannot un—"

"Hush now," One finger immediately halted her mouth. "I do not like hearing so many questions. I would rather do what I wanted to say than speak it out loud." The man hardly emphasized with a hint of mockery as he drew closer to her face. 

The maiden trembled, quivering under the cold touch as his finger brushed the dainty plump of her cherry lips. 

Eyes grew wider in befuddled stares. Seeing this, the man returned her puerile expression with a minatory grin that sliced his face from ear to ear. 

Questions she muttered and suggested were hanging on a balance. At that moment, it was all clear this man named Anubis was only toying with her—perhaps, only wanting her for his lust and nothing more. Exhaling a dissatisfied sigh, she faced away from him, looking back at the wall that seemed to become her solitude. 

The silence was burdensome as the sands of the hourglass kept pouring. The rain waved savagely, and thunder and lightning roared like untamed beasts flashing on the heavens. Though still warm and heating, the air inside had gradually morphed into a foreboding feel. The quietude then seemed to grow—choking and holding them in a shell as the maiden's mind had gone deeper into a misty void, seeing no end to her wonderment. 

Remaining in a deep tussle, her mysterious devotee lightly brushed his palm on her arms. At first, He wanted to release her poor soul from such despair, but noticing the constant wanderings of her mind, he then resumed his main motive—to have her physical aches gone before anything else. 

A weak soul, indeed, he was, succumbing to the temptation of the flesh as he pursued her with more eagerness. 

And as the load of the melancholy enveloped them, the lady at last uttered, "Who am I to you?"

Her companion suddenly raised a brow, observing her silver eyes dancing under the gleam of the burning lamp. "Have I not told you I am not fond of questions?"

"Oh, please do stop with this nonsense. All I want to know is who I am to you."

"This is not nonsense to me." He retorted, tugging a curve on the side of his mouth. 

"It is! Oh, it is, it is, it is!" She then lost it—throwing a fit of anger as she turned her whole body to face him. "Stop it! I do not understand everything! Everything seems convoluted. I am feeling emotions that were new to me!" Unconsciously, her delicate hands pounded onto his chest, glaring at him with a burning flame in her eyes. 

She was becoming a poor little madwoman. Desperate, tired, and bewildered by what was happening outside and inside of her. "I want answers! I want you to tell me right here and right now!" She adjured in wrath as she proceeded, "Oh, do tell me now, Anubis! Who am I to you? Why am I feeling uncanny feelings? Why am I sensing both displeasure and comfort? Why do I feel like I know you but don't? My insides convulsed from unorthodox ideas, clawing through bone and veins. How come I hate but also came to lo—"

Seething from her interrogation, the man could no longer hold his erupting passion as he lounged towards her—feeling like a bull during Minos's era. 

His anguished lips found hers, biting the lower half as punishment for such a character she displayed. "I—said—" He started in between mad kisses. "No—more—questions! You are a payment. My gift in exchange for something to the goddesses. Quiet now, dearie." He moaned.