Bastian (13 page)
Authors: Elizabeth Amber
Behind him, the bedroom door banged. Rico making himself scarce when they got “lovey-dovey,” as he called it. Bastian smiled, thinking of the boy's sour views on such things.
Michaela returned his smile, believing it was for her. Her hand cupped him through his trousers. A part of himâthe part she soughtâwanted this. Wanted to toss her on the bed, come inside her, and fuck the hours away.
But as he gazed into her eyes, he wondered for the first time if he'd become more to her than he ever wanted to be to any woman. And the concern stayed his impulse. Before they'd lain together that night they'd first met at Sevin's salon, he'd informed her that he would never love her. She'd laughed at him back then, teasing him about the size of his ego. And later, in darkness, about the size of another of his assets.
Opening his trousers now, she found him and drew him high and long with her fist. The erotic heat in her palms had a predictable effect, and he hardened to granite under her stroke. His body wanted hers, yet he felt emotionally detached. His affection for this woman did not extend to love. And in truth, another body would have done just as well for him. It would hurt her to know, he realized.
He gripped her wrist, holding her off. Their eyes met and he saw panic slowly bloom in hers. “We should talk,” he said, straightening his trousers.
“And while we talk, why not let me make you come?” Her violet gaze made sensual promises.
His hand went to her spine, going under the fall of her hair. “Michaela . . . if it's love you want, you should look elsewhere.”
A silence, then she murmured, “You're not as incapable of love as you believe.”
It was the wrong thing to say. There was a time in his youth when things had been different for him, but now he considered himself a man of logic, and any attempt to prove otherwise was met with the swift raising of a stone wall.
He stepped back, and Michaela's heart shattered. But her smile didn't falter. She could charm him. She would. She must. She'd die if he abandoned her.
Her lashes fluttered lower, and when her eyes reopened she was the consummate Companion again. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, unfastening the topmost from its moorings. “All I
want
from you, Bastian”âshe pressed a kiss to the vee of chest she'd bared at his throat, then popped a second button. “All I
need
. . .”âa third button and another kissâ“is your cock . . .”âanother button, another kiss, as she moved still lower on himâ“inside me. You may keep your heart.”
For now.
want
from you, Bastian”âshe pressed a kiss to the vee of chest she'd bared at his throat, then popped a second button. “All I
need
. . .”âa third button and another kissâ“is your cock . . .”âanother button, another kiss, as she moved still lower on himâ“inside me. You may keep your heart.”
For now.
He took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her up before she could sink to her knees before him. “You're certain?”
She laughed, a flirtatious, melodious sound that had first drawn him to her when he'd heard it in Sevin's salon that night several months ago. “Of course, darling,” she said. “I'm a Companion, after all. We rarely remain with one patron for long. But you and Iâwe're good together. And tomorrow will be Moonful. I know the darkness of the beast in you that comes with the Calling. You've said yourself that not just any woman will do for you then.”
Bastian tilted her chin up, his lips pausing a breath above hers. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“Then don't ruin what we have based on some misconception of my feelings,” she told him. “Instead, why not fuck me, Bastian, as your body urges you to? Give us both a taste of what tomorrow night's Calling will bring. It's been too long.” And when she lay back upon his bed and tugged him down into her kiss, Bastian went, believing her lies.
Through the slit in the doorway, Silvia watched him kiss Michaela and cover her body with his own larger one. His hand fumbled between them, shifting clothing as he mounted her. Both were fully dressed, as if they hadn't been able to wait to have one another. Unlike the last time she'd played voyeur here, she took no enjoyment in watching them couple. But she forced herself to stay, trying to brand this image of them on her heart, so that she could recall it anytime she dared to want more than she could have.
She knew the instant his body claimed hers. Saw Michaela's eyes drift closed, the ecstasy of having him inside her plain on her face. There was no mistaking her feelings for him. It was love.
Feeling like Death, Silvia backed away. Then she ran down the hall and stairs. Out of the house. Down Bastian's sloping lawn, causing peacocks, squirrels, and doves to scatter. And still she ran on, through piazzas and on to the Forum, until her sides were heaving and she was gasping for breath.
Since Rico had become a trusted fixture at Bastian's side, the guard hardly noticed her as she passed, heading for the tool shed. Quickly, she found the implements she needed and rushed to the Atrium House dig site. And there, she picked her spot and began to hack away at the earth, heedless of any damage she was inflicting on small bits of pottery as she bored down toward the ruin. Who cared about minuscule pottery shards? She had another goal in mind.
When she sensed she was close, she worked with more care. Then, just before she reached what she sought, she crawled out of the void she'd created in the silt and slumped in exhaustion. Something warm licked her hand and she reached out blindly, looping an arm around Rico's dog. Hanging on to another living being made her feel slightly less alone in the world, something she needed just then.
“I want him, Sal,” she confessed into soft, white fur. There, she'd admitted it, even if it was only to a dog.
Sal whined and his big brown eyes seemed to rebuke her. “I know, I know. I cannot have him. And I'm at a loss to explain why he has this hold over my heart. Still, horrible person that I am, I lust after Michaela's lover. I dream of lying with him.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Lying
alone
with him.”
alone
with him.”
A few moments later, she sighed deeply and stroked a hand over Sal's back. “Forget I mentioned it, will you?” Straightening, she got to her feet, stretched, and then headed back to Esquiline.
“Let's go, boy,” she told her companion. “Tomorrow is to be a big day. A day when Lord Satyr is going to make the discovery of his career.”
9
B
y the time Silvia arrived at the digs the next morning, Bastian had found the statue. Or, the top of its head, at least. A crowd had gathered around him, and Silvia had to push her way through to reach him.
y the time Silvia arrived at the digs the next morning, Bastian had found the statue. Or, the top of its head, at least. A crowd had gathered around him, and Silvia had to push her way through to reach him.
“What is it?” she asked, pretending she hadn't spent hours the previous night digging for it. Leaving it so he had only to dig an inch or so to uncover the first hints of white marble.
“A statue,” said Bastian, and she heard the suppressed excitement in his voice.
“Of?” She peered around him, her own excitement growing.
“One of the Vestals, most likely. All of their likenesses were carved in stone. Their statues lined the atrium of the house where they resided,” he informed her needlessly.
Yes, she knew. Six on each side of the atrium. Companions on the north side, Virgins on the south. But last night, she'd dug in the place she'd calculated he would find the thirteenth and most important statue of all that had graced the house. Had she chosen correctly?
All that was currently visible in the depression she'd dug was what appeared to be an upside-down white bowlâa small mound about the size of the top of a head. Bastian was carefully smoothing away loose sediment from around it, revealing more. Beneath his fingers, white marble gleamed. Seeing that strong, capable hand of his brush over a carving she'd once passed every single day of her youth, something shifted inside Silvia. She fell to her knees beside him, and he moved his hand so that she might set her warm palm on the statue's earth-cool crown.
“Her hair,” she breathed, feeling the ridges under her palm. “It's in waves. It's not one of the Vestals. It's the goddess herself, isn't it?” She was certain now that this was the statue of Vesta. The one she'd knelt before in worship each morning and each night of her girlhood, centuries ago.
She glanced up at him then, tears of joy in her eyes. Without thinking, she blindly reached out to him. His hands came at her ribs and he lifted her and swung her around, both of them for the moment oblivious to the surrounding crowd. It was as if they were alone in the Forum, their laughter a shared, wonderful bond between them as both delighted in this sublime moment of discovery.
Then she touched ground. One foot. Then the other. And then he let her go. He knelt again and began gently cleaning sediment away with a brush. Without realizing what she did, Silvia reached out her hand to smooth his hair. But before her hand fell, he began issuing orders to his workmen. She snatched back her hand and pretended she'd only been after a tool that lay beside him.
“We'll go slowly,” Bastian murmured, his mind wholly focused on the upcoming task. “And with the utmost care.”
Smiling through welling tears, Silvia rolled her eyes. “Of course we will.”
Working round the clock, it would likely take two weeks or more to unearth the statue. Although she would watch from a distance, she knew she would not be working at his side as he
slowly
uncovered the statue. In fact, he would never see her again. She would only swoop in stealthily and steal what belonged to her once he'd accomplished its disinterment.
slowly
uncovered the statue. In fact, he would never see her again. She would only swoop in stealthily and steal what belonged to her once he'd accomplished its disinterment.
For tonight would be Moonful.
The night Rico must die.
The night Silvia must pay another visit to Pontifex.
The night Michaela would lie with Bastian again.
Bastian, whom they both loved.
Tonight.
It was early afternoon when Silvia slipped away from the dig. She left without a word of farewell to anyone, taking Sal with her. Her heart heavy, she trudged to Bastian's home and found it empty. Michaela had gone out.
Along with the dog's favorite stick and the collar she'd fashioned for him, she set a hastily scribbled note upon Bastian's desk.
Take care of him, Bastian.
And yourself. And Michaela.
I'm off to wander.
Ciao.
âRico
And yourself. And Michaela.
I'm off to wander.
Ciao.
âRico
“Good-bye, Sal,” she told the dog, giving him a last, fond hug. “Be a good boy for Bastian and Michaela. They may be trusted to take good care of you.”
As she left the house, Rico's dog tried to follow her, but she stopped him. “No, Sal. You belong to them now.” She shut the door securely, leaving him inside. Shutting him out of her life, in the same way she was closing the door on Bastian and Michaelaâon this life that was not her own.
“I'll miss you,” she whispered. And then she fled the house, intent on leaving her current existence behind. Putting one foot in front of the other, she set out for the aqueduct. A half hour later, she lay down in the sleeping alcove where she'd first found Rico one month ago.
And within minutes, she was standing again and straightening her Virginal shift. The tips of her golden red hair drifted to her waist. She was her Ephemeral self once again. Invisible to all in this world unless she chose to show herself.
Solemnly, she stared at the olive-skinned boy now lying in the alcove of the aqueduct. The rat bite on his ankle was fresh again, as fresh as when she'd first found him. Bastian would miss him, and she hated to pain him in this way. But Michaela would concoct some lie, for she knew Rico would not return on the morrow.
In a few hours, Moonful would come. It was time for her to move on. To say another, final farewell. She bent to Rico and touched his hand.
“I carried out your wish,” she assured him. “Sal has a good home. He'll be happy. You can rest easy now.” She smoothed back his dark, unruly hair and kissed his forehead. “Good-bye, Rico.”
Although he'd died weeks ago, only now was his body truly lifeless. Without her occupation of it, it would begin to decay from this moment. She heaved a ragged sigh and stepped back from him. He'd been a good sortâalways up to mischief. And he'd taught her something about theft. A useful ability she could now add to her growing list of half-talents. She hardened her heart against sorrow and made herself turn away. There had been a surfeit of this sort of grief over the years. Sometimes it all hurt too much.
Desperate to escape the pain of this world if only for a while, she decided to leave it. Hidden in the shelter of the aqueduct, she somberly cupped her hands and blew, creating fire out of nothingness.
She would visit Pontifex earlier than usual today, well before the moon rose in this world. Then she would return here and crawl into some hiding place to lick her unseen wounds. And have a good cry.
Within minutes of creating a firegate, Silvia once again stood before Pontifex in ElseWorld. Finger combing her unbound hair from her face, she straightened her shift and stalked toward him.
“Why so early?” he demanded suspiciously from where he sat upon his throne. “It's not yet Moonful in your adopted world. Dare I hope you're eager to see me?” His brows snapped together. “Or has something happened?”
“Lord Satyr has discovered one of the Vestal statues,” Silvia announced in a voice that rang through the great hall.
Muffled cries of protest and anguish rose from the Lares.
But Pontifex was not satisfied. “Still no firestones?”
“Soon,” she promised.
“Soon?
Soon?
” he snarled. He beat his fist to his breast. “Do you know how I suffer under Priapus's curse? At night I do not sleep. If I manage to nod off, I'm awakened again by a terrible need that is never fully satisfied. Sycophants must nurse at me all through the hours in shifts. Do you think I can conduct my business in this way? I can't travel to visit dignitaries in other lands. I can't go into battle. I can't even walk without a woman attached to my crotch!”
Soon?
” he snarled. He beat his fist to his breast. “Do you know how I suffer under Priapus's curse? At night I do not sleep. If I manage to nod off, I'm awakened again by a terrible need that is never fully satisfied. Sycophants must nurse at me all through the hours in shifts. Do you think I can conduct my business in this way? I can't travel to visit dignitaries in other lands. I can't go into battle. I can't even walk without a woman attached to my crotch!”
A muffled giggle sounded nearby. The offender was summarily hauled forward and tossed into the moat, where he swiftly disintegrated. It had been one of his augurs, thank the Goddess, not one of the Lares this time.
“I need those fucking stones!” Pontifex raged. “Now!”
“Is that why you want them so badly?” Silvia hazarded. “Because you think they'll cure you?”
His expression turned crafty. “My reasons are not for the likes of you, wench.” He groaned then, grabbing his phallus and squeezing it as if to relieve a desperate ache.
Occia made to kneel at his lap again, but he spurned her. “No, I weary of your fruitless efforts. Summon another.”
She flicked a glance at Silvia, obviously embarrassed to be scorned in her presence. Still, she called another over, one who scurried and knelt before him and dutifully ducked her head onto his lap. Occia sat beside her, observing closely and murmuring instructions to her, as if she were the expert on such a service and no one else could provide it without her advice. Really, it wasn't brain surgery. Although, some men's brains did reside . . .
Somewhat soothed, Pontifex sent Silvia a furtive glance; then he stretched out his fingers, idly considering his manicure. “Did the child live?”
Silvia's stomach dropped. “What?”
“Michaela's child. Did it survive?”
He knew! Silvia's mind raced, wondering how much his spies had told him. Would he retaliate against Michaela in some way? “I don't know what you'reâ”
“Oh, spare me. You're a smart girl. You must have guessed at the father's identity.”
A sudden suspicion leaped into her mind, one far too horrible to credit. “Don't expect me to believe the child was yours. You have admitted yourself that you cannot . . .”
Pontifex just stared at her, his expression knowing, and his silence grew more terrifying by the moment. “Ah, but Michaela was gifted,” he offered at last.
“What the hells does that mean?” She took a step forward and the waters of the moat fizzed threateningly.
Knocking the female at his feet aside, Pontifex rose and moved close to the edge of his side of the moat, his fist slowly working at himself. “Once a month, she comes to me here. And I feed her this.” He looked down at his obscene cock and watched his hand pull it high and long. Gesturing to it with his other hand, he added, “And I let her make it come.”
“Liar!” Silvia shrieked. Her shrill denial echoed throughout the hall, and every living thing within it cowered, fearing his retaliation.
But Pontifex only glanced in Occia's direction. “Tell her.”
Occia nodded, her expression sour with suppressed jealousy. “What he says is true.”
Silvia's mind flew, thinking back to times in the recent past. Times when Michaela had mysteriously disappeared for an afternoon and offered only a flimsy explanation upon her return. Silvia hadn't pressed, assuming she'd simply been enjoying a furtive romance with some lover. But now, she wondered if Michaela had in actuality been with Pontifex on those occasions. The possibility sickened her. “And how long has this supposed liaison been going on?”
“Long enough,” Pontifex teased cruelly. “I sent Michaela to Rome a few months ago to seduce her Satyr during one of their Moonful orgies. She conceived that night.”
Silvia was already shaking her head before he finished. “The Satyr can control their childseed. Lord Bastian wouldn't have been so stupid as to give his to a woman he didn't know.”
“Didn't say he gave her childseed. But he did spend himself in her. More than once that night. Afterward, she came directly here,” Pontifex continued in his smarmy voice. “And I fucked where he'd been. I let her wrap her sweet cunt around my cock. And I managed to squeeze a bit of ejaculate out of this thing. Just for her.”
Silvia felt bile rise in her throat. “In the Gods' names . . . why?”
Pontifex shrugged. “They say the spendings of the Satyr can boost the potency of another male's seed.” His eyes met hers and he added softly, “They're right. My seed mixed with what he deposited and she did conceive. My child.”
Silvia's hands fisted at her sides in impotent fury. “You lie. Why would Michaela do that?”
“A tithe. If she gave me a child, I promised to let the two of you go free.”
It all made a horrible kind of sense.
Oh Michaela.
Agonized tears welled in Silvia's eyes, blinding her. A rumbling sound reached her ears and she dashed tears away to see a narrow slab of stone sliding toward her, quickly forming a bridge between both banks of the moat. And Pontifex awaited her at the far side of it.
Oh Michaela.
Agonized tears welled in Silvia's eyes, blinding her. A rumbling sound reached her ears and she dashed tears away to see a narrow slab of stone sliding toward her, quickly forming a bridge between both banks of the moat. And Pontifex awaited her at the far side of it.
Silvia stared at it, too stunned to comprehend what was happening. Behind her, guards crowded closer, forming a semicircle. Caging her with their bodies. She looked from the bridge to Pontifex.
“Your friend promised me a child,” he said. “And she didn't deliver. I now consider our bargain is moot. And she must pay for her reneging.”
“What bargain?”
“I want an heir.” With a thunk, the bridge connected with her side. Pontifex lifted a hand toward her, beckoning her to cross it. “Dear Silvia, let us strike a new bargain, here, tonight. One between us.”
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