She felt sick. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she was suddenly ill. Mallory turned away and strode back into the foyer.
What had happened?
That was a stupid question. It was obvious what she had walked in on. Nausea rose.
How? When? Where?
She was suddenly terrified. The future was at peace, but she was in turmoil. The image of Michael and her against the table was burned into her brain. How could she?
Michael couldn't control her. There was no doubt in her mind of her power. The thought came again.
The future was brilliantly alive. Her home, her family, everything was here. She drew in a shuddering breath. Michael was here. He was alive. What had changed that she hadn't killed him?
She lifted her head and it wasn't until then that she noticed the dark touches of color here and there. The Coven had always been pristine and white, a sign of Crystal clear serenity, unity and power.
Now there were hints of gold, black edges, red roses. All Michael, she somehow knew.
It was all entirely wrong. It had to be.
She stiffened at the sound of footsteps and then Michael was there, filling her vision.
He arched a slender eyebrow. "Aren't you full of surprises." He stopped before her and she stiffened, but held her ground. He smiled. "Even when backed into a corner, you don't run."
He lifted his hand and trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek, much in the same way he had that first time in the Outpost. Her lips twisted and she knocked his hand away. The world shifted and suddenly he had her against the wall, one hand against her throat holding her in place.
Gentle, yet warning.
Michael leaned in, his nose pressing against her cheek as he inhaled. "From the moment I met you, I knew there was something about you. You were different. You weren't just powerful. There was...is...something more than just powerful in you, Mallory. I felt it...even in the Outpost. You didn't flock to me like the others, but you didn't run, either." He pressed his lips against her cheek. "Did you want me then, Mallory, when we first spoke? Did you think about what you just saw, what I did to the others, did you want those things, as well?"
Why was he suddenly saying these things?
His thumb feathered over the pulse beating frantically in her neck.
Her heart thundering in her ears, Mallory lifted her hands and sent Michael stumbling back a few steps with a flick of her wrists and thoughts. Talk about power. She would show him power if that's what he wanted. "That was nothing. That will never, ever happen. I would rather burn in hell."
Michael laughed softly. "Hell is sin incarnate, Mallory. It's not just the fiery pit you learned about in bible study...there is so much more decadency. Maybe one day you will burn there."
Michael opened a door across the hallway and motioned with one long arm. "Ladies first."
Mallory strode past him without a word. The world felt surreal, like they were shrouded from everything. Was this the power of two Supremes coming together? Instead of changing the past, one could see the future, if they willed it.
Too bad it had been accidental on their part.
God, Michael had fucked up everything.
She spun around when she realized they were in a bedroom and with a sweep of her hand she sent Michael slamming against the opposite wall.
He didn't so much as flinch. Instead he laughed. "I want you to remember, Mallory, I like it rough." With a shrug of his shoulders he pulled from the wall and started towards her.
Mallory retreated. For the first time in her life, she took a step backwards. Whether it was from the sudden stupor of what she had seen, or the sudden predatory glint in Michael's eyes, she didn't know.
Her back came up against another door and her palm twisted over the knob. Michael reached her and covered her hand with his. "You're in the future, Mallory, and remember, there are always consequences to changing what's already set in motion."
And now that Michael had seen what his future beheld, he was more than willing to make some current and necessary changes. He could forgo the death of millions, if that meant Mallory ruling at his side.
He wanted power and Supreme dominion over all and he knew just how to get it.
He twisted her hand over the door knob and it clicked open. He was close enough to physically walk her backwards another step and then they were in a huge tiled bathroom. He reached beyond her and pushed open the walk in shower door. Mentally, he turned all three shower heads on until steam filtered out of the doorway.
Mallory had thought they had to return submerged, as when they had arrived, but no. Two Supremes were more than enough power to return in any equal way.
His lips curved. "Shall we?"
The hot water poured over her as she stepped into the shower, Michael's towering body following hers. What exactly was he hoping to accomplish-
Michael spun her around and pushed her back so that she slid against the slippery tiles. His hands came up and twisted in her tangled wet hair and jerked her head back. "Tempus Infinituum." He whispered against her lips before kissing her hard.
Her bottom lip stung when he bit down just hard enough to draw blood. "A belonging, of a time where we recently resided." He answered her furious, silent question. His tongue slid over his bottom lip, tasting her blood there.
"Tempus Infinituum." He said again, without releasing her.
"Tempus Infinituum." Mallory repeated, her eyes narrowed.
The water poured over them, slowly rising up to their ankles and then their calves.
"Again." Michael said.
"Tempus Infinituum." Mallory said through clenched teeth.
And then Michael pressed his body flush against hers as the water rose higher, darkening, swirling around their waists. "Do you ever think about it, Mallory? If you had given yourself to me in the Outpost? Are you even now thinking about what you would have felt on that table, with my body buried inside yours?" He lowered his head and bit the side of her neck as one hand shifted and braced against the small of her back, keeping her flush against him.
Her breath lodged in her throat. She could feel him against her stomach through their soaked clothing. He was hard.
"Because your heart is pounding. I'm thinking about everyway I can have you on that table. Everyway that I can maim that precious, powerful Supreme body of yours with my hands." He bent his knees as the water suddenly surged upward and gripped the back of her thighs. He hauled her upwards so that her inner thighs cradled his hips. And his hard body was flush up against the place between her thighs.
Mallory gave it due to the fact that Michael was a pure, evil monster. He was sin incarnate and there was nothing better than sin, because it was so much easier to be bad than good. Because his words had those exact images flashing through her mind.
Maybe, back at the Outpost, she wouldn't have stood a chance against his sudden advances. She wouldn't have stood a chance at the way he held her skin tight against his hips because she thought she was normal then. Michael had said often how he wanted them all to reprocreate...no, she wouldn't have stood a chance then.
She understood, oh yes, she understood why the others had been so susceptible to him...he was very, very tempting.
Just like the serpent with the apple to Eve.
But she knew who she was and she knew just how wrong Michael was.
The water grew inky black and Michael grinned. "Better take a deep breath." He said. She opened her mouth in response, her chest expanding for that last breath and Michael swooped in like the hunter he was.
His lips touched hers in a hard, open mouthed kiss just as the water roared up over them, sucking them back into the darkness they'd come from.
Michael thrust his tongue past her unsuspecting lips and Mallory slapped his chest and twisted her head away. Water gushed into her mouth and then Michael was there again, his hair floating with hers. His fingers tangled in her hair as he angled her head back-he kissed her again, sucking the acrid water from her own mouth so that she was breathing; breathing him in.
He'd taken full advantage of the situation with evil glee. He was continuing that advantage by kissing her over and over, his tongue imating sex as it thrust into her mouth.
He tasted nothing like what evil should taste like. He tasted like warm honey that drizzled. He should have tasted like the darkness that represented his absent soul. He should have tasted like hellfire and brimstone. But he tasted like warm honey and the hot embrace of seduction.
He tasted like sin.
She didn't even realize her thighs were still latched onto his hips, more out of self preservation than anything else. She did realize when he rolled his hips, though, grinding the thick ridge behind his trousers between her thighs.
The water sucked them downward and she felt the heavy suction and then they were horizontal, Michael over her body. His right hand flattened down her back and then he was gripping her ass and grinding her body against his.
Her eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head.
And she was kissing him back. Even with the water growing thicker and heavier, the spell sparking off their skin, she was kissing him back, sucking more of that honeyed flavor into her. Her arms circled his broad shoulders, the water so dark she couldn't see even if she opened her eyes.
She sucked his tongue into her mouth, vaguely aware of the bottom falling out beneath her before she hit a hard surface with a thud. The water surged upward, leaving them momentarily free of its weight just like before and then it came crashing back down over them, sloshing over the sides of the rounded tub.
He may as well have been naked for all the good the wet clothes did him. She could feel every hard inch of lean muscle beneath his black shirt.
She couldn't breath. Her gasp filled the empty airwaves between then when she twisted her head to the side. Michael only switched tactics, sliding those sinful, honey lips down the slender length of her neck.
The water was hollow, just reaching her ears in their position. It was annoying, deafening her ears in the hollow depth.
Michael must have known because a growl rumbled in his chest and he snapped the fingers of one hand. The water evaporated, steam rising up around them.
Mallory blinked her eyes to clear her vision as Michael moved lower, his lips sliding over her collar bone. One of his hands moved low, fingers circling her right ankle before his palm was moving upward slowly, the black fabric of her dress moving with it. Her leg was bared, her knee. Her thigh.
Her blurred vision cleared and the ceiling came into view, the round edges of the tub. Michael's teeth nipped the curve of one breast. Her fingers tightened in his hair.
The ceiling was familiar, the rounded tub...
Michael's fingers lazily stroked her outer thigh...
The ceiling, the beams...the Outpost.
Cordelia.
Her Coven.
Michael.
Oh God, Michael.
They were back.
Horror filled her as she realized her precarious position. The kisses, the way she'd eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist.
Michael's hand moved dangerously higher.
Panic and denial sent her heart into overtime and she transmuted across the room with barely a thought. She heard the small thud of Michael's body hitting the floor where she had been and his soft, amused laugh.
The Outpost. They were back. Michael's head slowly appeared over the edge of the tub before he came to his full height. They were both soaking wet. His expression was one of dark amusement. His eyes fucking gleamed with...desire and ...what?
He lifted one leg over and placed it on the floor.
Mallory turned and ran.
But to where? This was Michael's apoloclpytic world. And she was alone. Everyone she knew was dead. Her shoes clicked rhythmically as she raced down the stairs, her mind working frantically. What would Cordelia have wanted her to do?
Cordelia.
Mallory stumbled to a halt so hard she had to grab the stair railing to keep herself steady. The landing was three steps down-and so was Cordelia's lifeless body.
Her heart broke all over again.
She turned her head at the sound of Michael's decension on the stairs. He looked immaculate. His clothes were dry, his hair combed to perfection. Agony filled her at the thought of Cordelia again and she lifted her hand.
Michael paused midstep from the gust of energy before he continued down the stairs. His eyes were the cruel blue that she had grown accustomed to. He stopped one step above hers, his gaze meeting hers.
She could have made herself as immaculate as he was, but she didn't. What was the point? Mallory couldn't see any other way. Michael had won. Her attempt had failed.
He looked over her shoulder for a split second before his head tilted back mere inches. His eyes darkened until there was nothing but black, not even the whites could be seen.
Seconds. Just seconds.
Cordelia gasped behind her.
Her breath froze in her chest as she spun around. Cordeila still lay on the floor, but she was...breathing, her hands hovering over the blood staining her dress. Blood, Mallory saw, without the wound.
Cordeila was alive!
Mallory was already stumbling down those last steps as Cordelia leaned up on one elbow. She sank to her knees and dragged Cordelia into her arms.
Other voices drifted to her ears and then Madison came in from the opposite room with a, "What the fuck?"
Madison, Coco, Marie...all of them.
Tears filled Mallory's eyes but she blinked them back. She looked at Michael. "Why are you doing this?" She asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.
Michael looked over them all, one by one. He knew he was superior to them all. Once again, his eyes met Mallory's. Except her. She was possibly his equal.
He would dominate her and she would walk by his side.
And he wanted her. He just hadn't realized what he wanted exactly, until he'd seen it. There was still so much he didn't understand...but that would come in time.
He didn't smile as he spoke, his steps echoing as he walked down the stairs. "Your little time travel maneuver didn't work. And yet here you are." The other three witches gave him wide birth. They were learning.
He stopped in front of Mallory and Cordelia. "Mallory saw a world made whole. She didn't travel to the past. She traveled to the future. It wasn't a vision or a dream." His eyes held Mallory's. "She saw a world made whole, where Witches and Warlocks were united. You didn't hide or cower in fear of the outside world." Oh, he still planned to rid this God forsaken human plane of its pestilence, but the time wasn't now. He had to plan carefully.
"You were ruled by not one, but two Supremes."
Cordeila gripped Mallory's arm. "What happened, Mallory?"
Mallory couldn't speak. What was he doing? Her mouth dry, she spoke. "He's telling the truth. I saw..." She couldn't tell them about her and Michael. God, no. She would take that to her grave. She nodded numbly. "I saw it."
Michael's solumn face never changed. It sent a chill down her spine. "I will give you this world. No more death, no more fighting. There will be...peace, as it were. But you will no longer hide."
Mallory swore Michael's gaze pierced to her very soul. He held out his hand. "From one Supreme to another, Mallory. You saw what I did. You walk this path with me, rule the Coven at my side, and you'll have everything you saw." The hidden meaning was all too clear, but one only she understood. "The choice is yours, Mallory. Life or death. Their lives are in your hands."
Bitterness filled her. She understood now. He wasn't really giving her a choice at all. Either he won, and they lost, or they lost and still had an apocalyptic world with nothing else to lose.
It wasn't just the sex, she knew. It couldn't be. Had he seen something that she hadn't, that had suddenly driven him to this insanity?
Everything that she was screamed at her internally as she reached out. Even Cordelia vocalized her denial.
She took Michael's hand.
His fingers closed around hers. There should have been triumph in his gaze, but there was nothing. He pulled Mallory to her feet and then took their joined hands and placed them against the wall. He flattened his palm against the back of her hand.
He held out his free hand and the dagger that Cordelia had used to kill herself flew into his hand. The blade gleaned, the edges sharp. Pristine. No trace of blood remained. Without warning he stabbed the blade through their hands. The blade sliced through, the tip embedding in the wall.
Mallory's hand convulsed and she cried out at the burning, stabbing pain. Why? WHY? What was he doing? She jerked, but Michael kept his hand flat against hers, as if he didn't even feel the blade in his own.
Their two hands pressed against the wall, impaled, Michael grasped the hilt. "Blood of my blood." And yanked the blade out.
Mallory stumbled back, clutching her bleeding palm against her chest. Was he insane? She stared at her bleeding palm and then at him again.
Michael looked over each and every witch again. "What you do to me, you do to her." These were words he wouldn't repeat. There would be no warning, only repercussions. "If any of you are stupid enough to try and kill me-again-, in which you won't succeed-again-you are doing the same to her." His blue eyes landed on Mallory. "And God help anyone who hurts you. Their souls will only wish for death with what I will do to them."
It was in that moment that Mallory could only imagine, how in the bible, Eve felt when she took the forbidden fruit.
It was with a good end in mind that acquiring the knowledge of good and evil, that Eve allowed herself to be carried away and eat the forbidden fruit. But Adam was not moved by this desire for knowledge, but simply by greed.