Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning 4)

Chapter Twelve

IT was only when she stopped dancing that Mikki felt the return of her sick dizziness. So many women . . . she put a hand to her sweaty forehead and brushed back a mass of tangled hair. And every one of them had a word of welcome for her, just as they each wanted to dance and twirl and laugh with her. She was breathing hard and her legs felt wobbly. She was definitely all danced out.

"Empousa?" Nera peered into her face. "Are you well?"

"I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"Come with me." Gii was suddenly beside her, tucking a steadying hand into her elbow. The handmaiden began to lead her in a weaving path between the revelers, heading back in the direction of the palace.

"Do you wish the other handmaidens to accompany you, Empousa?" Gii asked when Nera, Floga, and Aeras noticed they were leaving and paused in their celebration.

"No!" Mikki said hastily, gesturing at the young women to stay. The last thing she wanted right now was to be fussed over. Actually, solitude and something to drink sounded perfect. "And you don't have to leave, either, Gii. I'm sure I can find my way back to my bedroom."

"It is my honor to accompany you," Gii said firmly. Then she smiled and spoke the Empousa's regrets to the women who would have drawn Mikki back into the celebration, smoothly extracting the High Priestess from the throng. Mikki sighed and resigned herself to Gii's mothering.

The well-lighted palace looked warm and inviting, and Mikki was incredibly glad to see it grow quickly closer. She wrapped her arms around herself. Now that she wasn't dancing, she was all too aware of the chill of the night air as well as her hunger. When was the last time she'd eaten a real meal? Had dinner at The Wild Fork only been last night? How did time work in this magickal realm? Little wonder she was starving and felt so sick and shaky inside . . .

Mikki stumbled up the marble stairs that led to her balcony. Gii halted suddenly, almost causing Mikki to trip and fall over her. The handmaiden was staring at a lovely little table someone had placed near the open doors leading to her room. It sat invitingly in a pool of light on the otherwise dark balcony. A thick blanket was draped over the back of the single wrought iron chair, and a pair of slippers was placed strategically in front of it. The table was, blessedly, laden with food.

"Oh, man! Whoever did this is my new hero." Ignoring Gii's reticence, Mikki hurried across the dark balcony to slide her cold feet into the slippers. Then she groaned aloud with the pleasure of a woman who truly loves her food. There were several platters on the table, each filled with delicacies. Aromatic cheeses, olives, thin slices of meat, and a loaf of bread that was still warm from the oven. Before she fell into the food like a starving fool she remembered Gii, who was still standing near the entrance to the stairs. Oddly enough, it appeared that the handmaiden had forgotten her. Gii's attention was focused on the deepest of shadows that nested at the far side of the balcony. Mikki cleared her throat to get the girl's attention. The handmaiden jerked, as if Mikki had startled her and, though she was too far away for Mikki to be sure, she thought Gii looked almost frightened when their eyes met. She smiled at the handmaiden, wondering what was bothering her. Had she committed some kind of cultural faux pas by rushing to the food without inviting Gii to join her? She certainly hadn't meant to be rude to the person who had shown her the most kindness in this world. So even though she preferred to be left alone to eat and relax, she gestured to the table.

"I know there's only one chair, but we can pull another out here from my room." Her mouth already watering, Mikki looked back at the table. "And there's plenty for two. Why don't you join me?"

Slanting one more nervous glance at the shadows, Gii returned her smile but shook her head. "No, Empousa. You are weary. It is best that you are given the privacy to eat and then sleep." The handmaiden started to depart. Then, changing her mind, she turned back and took a few hurried steps toward Mikki until her delicate face was more clearly visible. "Mikado, please forgive my impertinence, but I cannot remain silent."

"What is it, Gii?"

The young handmaiden closed the distance between them and knelt beside Mikki, taking her hands in her own. Though her voice was hardly louder than a whisper, she spoke with quiet intensity that demanded Mikki's attention. "Your destiny and that of this realm are now woven unalterably together. The choices you make affect more than you know."

Though she was feeling like a fish out of water, Mikki did recognize Gii's concern as real.

"I'll remember, Gii." Not knowing what else to say she added, "I'll be careful. Promise."

Looking relieved, Gii nodded and squeezed her hands before letting them go. "You did well tonight, Empousa. Welcome to your destiny." She curtseyed deeply and then padded softly to the stairs and disappeared as swiftly and silently as if she really had been only a dream.

Finally, she was alone. What had that been all about? Too damn tired to give Gii's weird behavior and cryptic advice much thought, Mikki stretched and then rolled her shoulders. Her neck was killing her, and her body felt stiff and sore. What the heck was wrong with her? She should spend more time in the gym (who shouldn't?). But she didn't think she was in such bad shape that frolicking about for an hour or so should make her feel like an old woman, or like a young one who had just taken a beating.

Her hands shook as she forked cheese and meat onto her plate, but as soon as she'd swallowed a few bites of the delicious fare she began to feel more settled. Mikki shivered and pulled the blanket off the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. Warmer, she broke off a hunk of bread and sighed happily as she bit into the soft center. She imagined that it somehow fed her soul as well as her body. A beautiful candelabrum sat across from her place setting, like a silent dinner partner who came to the table just to illuminate. Its light danced off a crystal goblet filled with dark red wine. She lifted it, admiring the elaborate rose design etched into its surface and appreciating that someone had already filled her glass as well as left an entire pitcher of wine for her personal use. If any occasion called for wine drinking - lots of wine drinking - tonight was one. Mikki glanced around her, trying to see if there was any movement in the deepening shadows of the balcony. Everything was still; it seemed she really was completely alone.

Raising the goblet to her lips, she paused, brows drawn together in confusion. Floating in the middle of the tiny scarlet sea was a rose blossom, so deeply red that it appeared almost black.

What the heck was a flower doing in the middle of her glass of wine? Not sure of the correct protocol for extracting a rose blossom from wine, Mikki glanced from the table to the crystal goblet. Should she pull it out with her fingers? Or was she supposed to use a fork? Maybe a dessert spoon would be more appropriate?

"I can't even call for a new glass," she muttered, thinking that finding a rosebud in her wine was a perfect punctuation mark to a truly bizarre day. "What would I say? Hey, waiter, or in this case, handmaiden, there's a rose in my soup, uh, glass, uh, wine." She shook her head and laughed aloud. "Doesn't it just figure?"

"The Ancients believed that a glass of wine could not be fully enjoyed unless there was a rose blossom afloat within it." The deep, powerful voice rumbled from the area of the balcony that was shrouded in the darkest shadows, washing around her and causing the hair on her body to prickle. "It is a belief to which I adhere."

Mikki jumped and fumbled with the glass, almost dropping it.

"Forgive me for startling you, Empousa."

"I just wasn't expecting a . . ." Mikki faltered, trying to see through the shadows. She could discern only darkness within darkness, but she didn't need to see him. She knew to whom the voice must belong. Her stomach tightened. She took a deep breath and pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders, suddenly very aware that she hadn't changed from the ceremonial dress that exposed far too much of her body. "I thought I was alone," she said, amazed that her voice sounded so normal.

"I did not mean to disturb you. I came only to see that you grounded yourself after the ritual."

Mikki stared blankly in the direction of the faceless voice. Ignoring the rose blossom, she took a long drink of wine. It was him - the statue - the beast from her dreams - the creature who had stalked her through

the rose garden. Unlike her voice, her hands could not hide their emotions so easily and she had to wrap both of them around the goblet so their shaking didn't clatter the crystal against her teeth.

When she didn't respond, he continued speaking in that preternaturally powerful voice that was at such odds with his civilized words.

"Again, Empousa, I ask that you excuse my lack of judgment. I thought only to see that all was acceptable to you so your grounding could be completed. I did not intend to disturb or to discomfort you."

She stared into the dark space from which the voice originated.

"You did all this?"

"I directed the servants, yes. Empousa, you must always remember to eat and drink after you cast the sacred circle and perform any ritual. In that way you will once again be grounded to this world. If you do not, you will feel weak and sick at heart."

Mikki had to swallow down a hysterical bubble of laughter. She was conversing about post-goddess ritual rules with the living statue of a beast who talked like a college professor in a voice that could have belonged to Godzilla.

It was totally fucking Loony Tunes.

Mikki took another long gulp of wine. This time the scent of the rosebud tickled her nose and she noticed the way its elusive sweetness heightened the richness of the wine. She put down the goblet and looked out across the table. Fine linens. Beautiful porcelain china. A crystal goblet and pitcher etched with a rose design. Plates heaped with carefully chosen delicacies. A blanket and warm, comfortable slippers. He had ordered all of this for her?

Mikki glanced at the corner of the balcony and then hastily averted her eyes and poured herself some more wine. His silence was making her even more nervous than his inhumanly powerful voice. Had he left? Was he sneaking up on her? Stalking her?

The erotic chase scene from her last dream teased through her memory, causing her cheeks to flush and nervous words to rush too loudly from her lips.

"I didn't know about the grounding. And everything is delicious. I guess I owe you my thanks." She wanted to bite her lip at her idiocy. She guessed she owed him her thanks?

"You owe me no thanks, Empousa. I am Guardian of this realm, and as such it is my duty to see to the welfare of those within the realm, which includes Hecate's High Priestess," he said gruffly.

"Oh, well," she mumbled, feeling awkward and not knowing what to say, but wanting to be polite. "Still, I appreciate - "

"Do not!"

She felt the force of the command against her skin. It battered her and made the flush that had heated her cheeks drain white and cold. Hecate's assurance that the beast wouldn't harm her seemed only weak, faraway words. Mikki pressed her hands into the arms of the chair and bunched her legs under her, preparing to sprint for her room. Maybe he wouldn't come inside the palace. Or maybe she could call for help and . . .

"Forgive me. It seems I have again frightened you. That was not my intention. It is just that your appreciation is not appropriate. What I did for you is out of duty. It is why Hecate called me into her service. Do you understand?"

He was clearly trying to modulate his voice to a softer, less- intimidating timbre. She recognized the attempt, even though he was being only partially successful. Instead of answering right away, Mikki took her death grip from the chair handle and, two-handed, lifted the wineglass to her lips. After she'd had another fortifying drink she stared into the darkness again. This was ridiculous and twice as scary because she was talking to a disembodied voice and letting her imagination fill in all the gory details of his appearance.

"I'm trying to understand, but it's not easy. Especially when I can't see who I'm talking to."

There was a long pause. And then he stepped from the darkness. The crystal goblet slid from between her numb fingers and shattered against the marble floor. He made a movement like he was going to approach her, and with a rush of adrenaline, Mikki surged to her feet, knocking over her chair with jerky, panic-laced haste. Shards of broken crystal crunched under her feet.

Instantly, he halted. "Have care where you step. The glass can cut through the soles of your slippers." The words were meant to be gentle, but the voice that spoke them rumbled with an inhumanly thunderous warning.

Mikki couldn't breathe. She couldn't make her vocal cords work. She could only stare at the creature. Then he sighed, and it was in that lonely, wordless sound that she heard the echo of a familiar roar. That one small thing pushed through her panic, allowing her to draw a gasping breath.

"I did not come to you tonight to harm you. You have my oath that you are in no danger."

Her lips felt cold and numb, but she forced herself to speak. "You're the statue. The one from the rose gardens."

He nodded his massive head. "Yes, you have known me only as I was in your world, entombed in marble amidst the roses. Now that I have awakened, I have resumed my rightful position as Guardian of the Realm of the Rose."

Mikki brushed a shaking hand across her forehead, trying to clear her mind.

The creature took a step closer to her, his hooves thudding inhumanly against the silent balcony.

"No!" she blurted, blood pounding in her ears. "Stay away!"

As if to show that he meant no harm, he raised one huge hand toward her, palm up. Except for its size it appeared normal, but Mikki was sure she caught a flash of the candlelight glinting off something sharp and deadly. She stared at his hand without blinking.

He closed the hand and let it fall to his side, where it was enveloped in shadow. "I was only concerned that you might faint."

"I'm fine," she said automatically, but she did pick her way carefully among the pieces of broken glass, righted her chair and sank into it before her legs gave way. "I don't faint." She forced herself to sound as normal as possible. He said he wouldn't hurt her. Hecate said he wouldn't hurt her. And, anyway, if he was going to attack her, it would do no damn good for her to hyperventilate and freak out. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. "Really, I'm fine," she repeated, more for her own assurance than his.

"You should eat," he said. "It will strengthen you."

She just stared at him. How the hell was she supposed to eat with him standing there?

She was surprised to easily recognize comprehension on a face that was so alien. And at the same time she recognized something else, something that clouded his powerful voice like fog. Sadness . . .

Did he really sound sad, or was she just imagining it?

"I should leave you to your meal. First allow me to . . ." He broke off and spoke a sharp, unintelligible command. He held out one large hand, and instantly a crystal goblet, identical to the one she had broken, appeared in midair. His hand closed around it.

A noise, somewhere between a sob and a scream, squeaked from Mikki's lips.

"Did you not desire another glass?" he asked.

Mikki could only nod. Her swarming thoughts semi-hysterically said that what she really wanted was a valium to go with the wine.

He was watching her closely, and she thought his expression might have softened, but his face was so fierce that it was hard to tell. "May I bring this glass to you?"

She hesitated and then nodded again with a quick, slight movement.

Slowly, he stalked forward with an athletic grace that was as powerful as it was feral. His ebony hooves echoing against marble sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the balcony. Mikki couldn't look away from him. As he moved closer to her, she couldn't help pushing herself against the back of her chair, where she sat rigid and unmoving. Her heart was pounding hot and loud in her ears, and for a moment, she thought she might make a liar out of herself and actually faint.

Would he catch her if she did? The thought of him touching her shivered through her body.

When he reached the broken glass he made a dismissive gesture with one hand and muttered a word under his breath.

The shards instantly obeyed him, blowing off the balcony in a tiny crystal tornado.

Then he stood beside the table. This close the light from the candelabrum flickered over him, illuminating the hard, inhumanly muscular lines of his body. He kept very still, allowing her time to study him and to become accustomed to his nearness.

The statue in the park had not been clothed, but the living Guardian was. He wore a black leather breastplate over a short tunic. The outfit reminded her of something Russell Crowe would have worn in Gladiator , except had the two stood side by side, the Guardian would have made the Aussie actor look like a boy in dress-up clothes.

The creature was huge. He had to stand almost seven feet tall. His hair was the unrelenting black of a new moon night. It fell thickly around his massive shoulders. Two dark horns protruded from his head. They curled forward and tapered to dangerous-looking points. His face . . . Mikki's breath caught in her throat. The face of the statue had been roughly hewn and indistinct, but the living Guardian was no unfinished rock; he was powerfully masculine, with a thick brow; high, distinct cheekbones and a square jaw. Taken by itself, his face reminded her of ancient images she'd seen stamped on foreign coins or carved into statues of warriors long dead, but mix his classic features with the horns and the sharp glint of a carnivore's teeth, and it was obvious that the man did not completely dominate the beast that lay so close to the surface.

His breastplate and tunic left quite a bit of his muscular body bare. The skin that covered his torso was dark and looked like living bronze in the candlelight. She let her eyes travel down his body. She knew what she would see, yet still she sucked in a shocked breath at the reality of it. His thick legs were covered in dark fur. Instead of feet, the flickering light glinted off cloven hooves.

He was the personification of animalistic power, and though he did not move to threaten her, the aura of feral viciousness that surrounded him was almost palpable. Mikki shivered and pulled the blanket more closely around her shoulders.

"The night is getting cold," he said as softly as possible. "I should have had them set your dinner within by the hearth."

"I - I like it out here," she stuttered.

"Do you? Or are you just being polite?"

"No, I often eat dinner on my balcony at home," she said, feeling a tremor of homesickness. There wasn't a lot she'd miss about her old life, but her comfortable apartment and her view of Woodward Park was something that would always be a bittersweet memory.

"Then I am pleased that I chose to set your dinner on your new balcony, Empousa."

Slowly he placed the goblet on the table and, with a gentlemanly gesture that was in direct contradiction to his bestial appearance, he poured her another glass of wine. Each of his movements was unhurried and carried with it a catlike grace.

Like a predator, she thought.

When he was finished pouring he took a step back from the table and nodded at the full glass.

"Drink. It will soothe you."

Mikki did as she was told, barely tasting the excellent red. Her body felt detached and unreal, but the wine warmed her and helped anchor her senses. She drank deeply, for the moment not caring if it made her tipsy or muddled her thoughts.

Her thoughts, after all, were highly suspect. Perhaps they could use some muddling.

"I dreamed of you. Back there, in your old world . . . at your old home. I dreamed of you often."

His words jolted through her, and she put down the goblet before it, too, broke. Mikki raised her eyes to his. They were almond shaped and as dark and bottomless as a quarry.

"I know," she whispered. "I dreamed of you, too."

"It was a shock," he said, pulling his gaze from hers to look out into the darkness. "After all those countless years of nothingness . . ." He shook his head and his mane moved softly around his shoulders. "It seemed impossible that I was aware again. At first I sensed you, but I could not see you. I only knew your presence." His voice was deep with a low, hypnotic sound, but his face remained expressionless, as if part of him had become stone again. He did not meet her eyes. "Then the dreams changed. They became more real. I could see you and feel you. Finally you called to me and I awakened completely. I knew you were Hecate's Empousa; only she could have awakened me. My mastery over magick returned to me, and so I brought you here."

"I thought I was going crazy," Mikki said, wishing he would look at her or give her some hint about what he was feeling. But he only stared, stone-faced, into the night.

"No, Empousa. You are not mad. You are fulfilling your destiny."