Godhunter Page 15

  More pyramids gathered in a courtyard around the main three like anxious children, reined in by a massive wall, crowned with snake heads. The snakes stared viciously out at the city beyond, sending a silent yet effective warning to all who would approach. I knew suddenly that I stood on sacred ground and it was guarded by more than stone serpents. A shiver skated over my spine.

  Just out of reach of the staring serpents were palaces, huge buildings with sparkling courtyards, and beyond those were smaller homes, all circling around the pyramids in great vibrant wheels. The buildings glowed white in the moonlight and there were flowers everywhere, in the courtyards of the palaces, in the gardens of the smaller homes, and every nook and cranny they could find. Cutting through the whole city were waterways, crisscrossed by bridges, which led to an outer ring of floating gardens… patches of crop land surrounded by canals. The canals in turn led out to a huge lake which surrounded it all. I was standing in the exact center of an ancient island city.

  “Welcome to Teotihuacán, Place of the Gods,” Blue’s velvet voice draped over me from behind. “We stand at the center of Tenochtitlán, the home I led my people to, the city near the cactus.”

  His hands slid over my shoulders, the skin to skin contact startling me. I looked down and saw my body wrapped with gauzy white material, held in place with a thick, gold belt. I closed my eyes and tried to remember who I was. I didn’t want to be here with this man, this god, but I couldn’t remember why.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered against my bare shoulder before he kissed my chilled skin. His kiss promised warmth and I turned to him, welcoming his heat.

  Lean arms closed around me and a heavy veil of hair slid down to enclose us as he bent to kiss me. When his lips touched mine, he was all I wanted, nothing else mattered. I forgot about the incredible city, the chill in the air, and most importantly, I forgot about remembering who I was.

  I felt him lift me and carry me further into the temple. He laid me down carefully and I felt smooth stone at my back. The rock beneath me was warm, pulsing with energy and excitement. Around us, the walls were covered with paintings of priests, gods, and animals in bright colors. The paintings were violently beautiful, war and sacrifice featuring predominantly. A quick flash of terror spilled through me as I spotted a picture of blood and altars but the emotion was quickly replaced by the feel of his hands.

  He untied the cloth around me slowly, carefully, then laid the belt with it at his feet. A breeze brushed against my naked skin and I reached for him, wanting desperately to be covered by his warmth. He laughed softly and I heard victory in it, victory and something deeper, something darker. I frowned, vaguely disturbed by that laugh but then he undid his own belt and let the cloth at his waist fall with it.

  Standing naked before me, he truly looked like a god and I couldn't help but worship him with my eyes. I drank in his magnificent form, the sleek expanse of chest, his curving biceps, the flat plane of his stomach, the thickness of his thighs, and all that lay between them. His eyes glowed red but I wasn’t afraid, I was anxious. It felt right and wondrous and I wanted it so badly that I heard myself whimper. A part of me cringed at the submissive sound but I couldn’t focus on my little misgivings, couldn't grasp them, they just slid away.

  “No, my sweet darkness,” he took my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers, “don’t worry, no one will take this moment from us. I shouldn't have allowed you to run from me. I should have claimed you at the start.”

  Tears rolled down my face but I didn’t know why. Something was wrong, what was it? He began to lick my palm, then kiss his way up my arm, and I lost the feeling of unease. His teeth scraped along my collarbone, sharper than I'd expected and I gasped. Then his hands flowed over my body like molten rock, liquid hot but with the promise of something solid to come. They rubbed away my tension, relaxing and exciting at the same time.

  I felt his lips close over the crest of my breast just as his fingers went below to create my own liquid heat. I moaned and pulled his head closer, raking my fingers through the heavy silk of his hair. The flick of his tongue drove me over the edge. I was reeling already when his mouth sent me plummeting faster into ecstasy, his hands working their magic in tandem with his lips.

  Warm flesh slid over me, then down my body. My legs fell apart to accept him and all I could think about was the feeling of his skin on mine, the strength of his muscles flexing beneath it, and the scent of him, like spicy chocolate, teasing me. I lifted my head a little to gaze down at him poised between my legs, his eyes glowing ferociously at me.

  “Tell me you're mine and let me claim you,” he drew his tongue up the middle of me slowly and I writhed. “Tell me,” he covered me with his mouth, licking and then plunging his tongue deep.

  My throat went dry and I shook my head. Why was I denying him? He was my god, my love, and I did belong to him, but some part of me screamed, No! The paintings around me seemed to come to life, the people screaming and crying out a warning. My heart sped up, my breath coming in short gasps as I tried to pull away from him.

  He looked up at me sharply, his arms holding me still. Suddenly, all I could see were his eyes, burning into my soul, filling my world with churning crimson, as he continued to lap at me like a starving animal. He wrapped his arms under my thighs and pulled me tighter, closer.

  “Tell me you belong to me,” he growled, “tell me now!” His voice cracked through my mind like a whip and I broke beneath the sharp spikes.

  “Yes,” I fell back, finally free of his gaze, “yours.”

  His eyes widened and his breath puffed hot against me, sending quivers of pleasure through my limbs. I thought he’d get up and slide into me then but he didn’t. He growled low in his throat and rubbed his face against me like a jungle cat marking with its scent.

  “So much magic,” he whispered and licked me again, “mine.”

  He looked up at me and lowered his head as his lips pulled back to reveal sharp fangs. I screamed as he sank those teeth into me, all the while continuing to flick his tongue, taking blood as he gave pleasure. My orgasm spilled over as my blood spilled into him, washing away my terror. The sound of him drinking, sucking at me, should have repulsed me. Instead it excited me further, as if it was a normal expression of desire, something to be expected and cherished.

  I lay convulsing with after-shocks as he licked the wounds carefully. Warmth spread as he blew a healing fire over me. I felt the cuts close quickly, my skin itching for a moment as they healed. One last lick and he raised himself above me, coming up my body to kiss me once more. I tasted my blood on his tongue before he pulled back and looked at me with eyes gone tender despite their savage color. He stroked my face, the pads of his fingertips barely touching me, and then covered my face with soft kisses.

  “Sweet sacrifice,” his voice whispered through me, “I will treasure this gift. You'll see that I can love you like no mortal man can, with the strength of centuries, and I will never give you up. Together, we will bring them to their knees.”

  He slid inside me then and the feel of it was so perfect, we both cried out, our voices mingling like our bodies. When he started to move, I thought I’d shatter from the pleasure. My body was so filled with it already, I couldn’t possibly hold more. The slide of his hot flesh, branded me and made me complete. The stone beneath me seemed to push me up, offering me to him.

  “I will come for you, my Queen,” he gasped. “Drop your shields and I will come for you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I wrapped my legs around him and clawed his back, pulling him deeper. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted more of him, more and more. “I don't have any shields, just come.”

  “You will understand,” he kissed my neck gently, the warm wetness of his tongue caressing me, before his fangs pierced me lightly. The pleasure crested with his bite and we came together, him pouring into me as I poured into him, a complete circle, a divine sacrament. “Now you’re mine, Vervain!”

  My name on hi
s lips sent me shooting from the dream and I bolted upright, shaking in terror. Nick was crouching in the corner against the carved walls of my Chinese wedding bed. He was hissing at me, something he’d never done before, and I began to cry. He stopped abruptly and crept closer, as if to see if it was really me.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I stroked his fur and he snuggled back against me, purring. “I wasn’t myself for a while there.”

  I let the smells and sounds of home ease into me and relax some of the tension in my muscles. I was home, it was just a dream. There, the whir of the a/c. There, the spice of the sandalwood oil I used to polish the bed. There, the heartbeat of the animal in my lap. Then the sound that should have been frightening but only comforted me more: the soft shuffling of a man asleep in the next room.

  My heartbeat calmed completely when I remembered that Thor had spent the night. He didn't want to leave me alone, even after he was satisfied with my ability to shield. I'd thought it was just a ploy to get me into bed but he'd gallantly offered to sleep on the sofa. I pulled out a futon instead and fixed it up for him in my art studio. My third bedroom was used exclusively for magic so it wasn't an acceptable guest room. He'd insisted that he'd enjoy sleeping surrounded by my paintings if he couldn't sleep beside me. I'd laughed and thought he was being excessively paranoid. Now I was glad he stayed.

  Part of me wanted to creep into the other room and crawl into bed with him but I'd satisfy myself with the knowledge that he was nearby and instead take the comfort of my cat beside me. I laid back down and focused on adding more power to my shields. I didn't think Blue would be able to sneak into my dreams with all the shielding I'd put up but evidently my mind slipped a bit when I slept. I should probably have woke Thor but I didn't want to go running to him like a child afraid of the dark. I could talk to him about it in the morning. Hell, maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe he hadn't made it past my shielding at all.

  I smiled as the thought comforted me and turned my head into the softness of my pillow. A sharp twinge went through my neck and I sucked in my breath as my hand flew to the spot. My finger came away with a drop of blood and I jumped up, displacing Nick who yowled at me as I scrambled out of the opening at the foot of the bed. I ran to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and stared aghast at my reflection in the mirror.

  There was Blue's bite, gleaming like twin jewels against my throat.

  “Thor!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Asgard was the home of the Norse gods. A part of the God Realm which could only be reached through the Aether. Near Earth but not of it, it lay on a parallel plane to our world with the Aether holding us together like glue. When Thor saw the bite on my neck, he immediately carted both me and Nick to Asgard. More specifically, to his home, Bilskinir Hall.

  It was as massive as the man himself and not even remotely resembling anything I thought a Hall should look like. It was more of a palace, an edifice of soaring ceilings, generous windows, and not a single room smaller than my entire house... including the bathrooms. It perched atop a sheer cliff that I was told guarded the entrance to Asgard. Far below it ran a channel where the lake of Asgard met the sea.

  Across the sea lay other god domains, probably hundreds of them, but I really didn't want to think about it. I focused instead on the crashing of the waves against the rocks below. The sound flew up the cliffs and permeated the whole place like constant background music but the briny smell didn't reach us. All I could smell was Thor, fresh and electric.

  Nicholas had settled in nicely. Cats are naturally drawn to magic (I lamented this fact every time he got loose in my altar room) so a realm built by magic probably felt like home to him. He walked prouder and stalked the Hall as if he were its true master. Okay, so not much of a change in behavior for him.

  I wish I could say I was just as comfortable but it was the first time I'd been in the God Realm by invitation and it took awhile for my body to realize it wouldn't have to fight its way out. I was tense while Thor led me to his library and chilled enough that he started a fire in the large hearth there. I settled into a leather wingback chair beside the fireplace.

  “I'm going to contact Teharon,” he said as he laid a quick peck on my forehead.

  “Okay,” I murmured, not knowing who this Teharon was or why he needed to be called but feeling way to shell-shocked to be able to muster any interest.

  I stared into the flames, the fire sparking and waving wildly at me. It was so close, I could feel the heat radiating off it, and yet I couldn't get warm. The cold felt bone deep, freezing me from within. I started to shake, a fine tremor which turned into full blown palsy. I tried to focus on calming my twitching limbs but flashes of my dream kept replaying in my head. Red eyes softened, dark skin glistening, his hair swinging in a shining arc, and those teeth.

  I fell off the chair and landed on my knees, my shaking hands covering my face as I cried out in denial. The shame hit first, crawling up my throat to choke me. I told myself that I'd done nothing wrong, that the shame was his for taking advantage of my dream-bewildered self, and that nothing had physically happened, but still the shame consumed me. He'd made me want him, want what he'd done to me, and that was the greatest damage of all.

  I didn't fight him. I hadn't even known that I should have. He'd stolen my ability to defend myself, my right to say no. He'd made me complicit in my own rape, turned me against myself. He defiled more than my body, it was my mind, and in doing so, he'd planted a seed of doubt. I could feel it taking root, spreading out through veins and arteries. Pulsing through my blood like a pathogen was the idea that I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't going to win this war. I was a human trying to fight gods and my abilities just wouldn't make the cut.

  I remembered the sharpness of his teeth in my neck and then lower, the vivid memory of him lying between my thighs made my face heat. I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing at my forehead as if I could simply smooth away the horror. My cheeks were wet and I rubbed at them distractedly, then pulled my hands away to stare at the evidence of my tears. My weakness.

  “Oh, hell no,” I felt my upper lip curl into a snarl as I picked myself up off the floor. “I may not be a goddess but I am a witch and I am not without power.” I'd be damned if I'd let that son of a bitch destroy me with one little dream. “Next time I'll know better. Next time you'll be the one wiping away tears, you bloodsucking bastard!”

  I felt the vow settle inside me, forcing out the poison he'd left. I may not win the battle but I wasn't going to sit it out, crying in a corner, just because Blue had got the better of me in dreamland. I pushed away the lingering visuals with determination and decided I was done with brooding on it. I needed to distract myself with something else. I lifted my chin and looked around the room with more interest.

  I was in a very English looking library, two stories high. There was a little ladder attached to the wall on casters. In one corner was a tiny painting displayed in a very large and ornate gold frame which perched on an easel. A small light attached to the top of the frame illuminated it. Was that a Renoir? I sniffed away the last of my tears as curiosity caught hold of my artist's heart.

  Nearby was a long mahogany table scattered with books, some spread open as if in the midst of being read. A few chairs clustered around it but the main seating was more centrally located, in the form of a couple sofas and wingbacks like the one I'd originally been deposited into. The room was all shiny wood and maroon leather with plush hunter green carpeting. For me, it was love at first sight.

  I got up and walked around the room in a daze. My fingers trailed over the leather spines, the embossed gold titles. Mark Twain, Jane Austen, Shakespeare, it went on and on. Most of the books were costly, some were probably priceless. I peered into a glass case installed directly into the floor-to-ceiling shelving. A book was propped open, revealing delicate drawings interspersed with loopy script in sepia ink, filling every inch possible on its aged linen pages. A brass plate beneath it read: Leonardo da Vinci Codex Leicester 15
06-1510.

  “Holy Shit,” I breathed as I reverently touched the glass.

  “You like Leo?” I hadn't even heard Thor return.

  “Leo?” I spun around to gape at him. “What, were you like friends or something?” I laughed then started to choke when he merely raised a brow. “Mother-of-pearl! You really did know him, didn't you?”

  “I've been around awhile, Vervain,” he chuckled and the man beside him joined in. “Leave it to you to be more impressed with an artist than a god.”

  “Leonardo da Vinci wasn't just an artist,” I sputtered, “he did much more than paint. That book right there is proof of it. He was a genius.”

  “Hmph,” Thor smirked. “He was a step away from insanity, taking all the stories I used to tell him and trying to turn them into fact.”

  “Stories?” I lifted a brow. “Are you trying to tell me you were Leonardo's muse?”

  “Yes, well,” Thor frowned and the man beside him laughed, hitting him on the shoulder.

  “She's more charming than I expected,” Thor's friend said.

  The newcomer was bare-chested and I wasn't complaining. That chest was as much a masterpiece as any da Vinci, wide, smooth, and sculpted. It should have been on display in its very own glass case. His hair was long, down to his hips, and it was loose except for a thin braid that ran down the side of his face. The braid was wrapped with leather and adorned with a white feather tipped in red.

  His large, long-fingered hand reached out to take my own and I forced my gaze up to his. There I saw one of the most serene faces I’ve even seen on a man. High forehead and cheekbones with a widow’s peak, a square chin, and strong lips. His nose was long and proud. His eyebrows, like raven’s wings, curved delicately over almond-shaped eyes and had an upward flip at the ends. It was a beautiful face but his most striking feature was the bright turquoise of his eyes. Those eyes shone from the darkness of his skin like a beacon.