Rapture's Etesian (21 page)

The Chalean Goddess of Life, Death and War waded out into the waves and bent down to run her hands through the salty foam. “I know what I am about, my deargs dul. Why do you question me?”

He looked up to find Morrigunia’s gauzy gown plastered to her luscious curves. There might as well have been nothing covering her for the very outline of her body was in plain view behind the wet material. Despite his ironclad will, his body responded to the sight of the dark red-gold patch of hair at her groin and he turned away, digging his nails into the palms of his hands.

“Such unneeded torment you put yourself through, Cain,” she sighed. “All you need do is—”

“Leave!” he shouted. “I hate the sight of you!”

“Well, your cock doesn’t,” the goddess snapped, but before he could yell at her again, she disappeared in a whirlwind of tiny sparkling lights that drifted out to sea like butterflies.

Tears welled up in Cainer Cree’s eyes and he threw back his head and howled to the heavens. His terrible loneliness felt like a boulder pressing down upon his heart and he could barely draw breath. He hurt in his very soul and the honorable warrior inside him was awash in guilt. He had unwittingly made a horrible mistake in allowing Khnum to harvest a fledgling from his, Cainer’s, body. In a moment of pique, Morrigunia had allowed him to see into the future and to witness the exacting repercussions his mistake had brought to the world. So overcome with his guilt, he looked once more to the sea and took a step toward its heaving waves.

Instantaneous pain flooded the Reaper’s body but he ignored it and kept walking. Had not the Goddess appeared in front of him, he would have flung himself into the pounding waves.

“No,” Morrigunia said, lashing out with a palm to Cree’s cheek. “This I will not allow!”

Even though the parasite was torturing him, sending bright flashes of intense agony through his spine, Cainer Cree tried to go around the Goddess. The intention of drowning himself was clear in his amber eyes.

“I said no!” she said, and sidestepped in front of him.

Frustrated, helpless, he dropped to his knees and threw his arms around her legs. “Let me die, Morrigunia. Please let me die! I can not live with the guilt of knowing what I have helped set into motion!”

Pity flittered through the Goddess’ heart and she threaded her fingers through his damp curls and held his head to her belly. He was shuddering with grief, his body trembling against her. He was racked with sobs that came from the very marrow of his being.

“Hush now, Beloved,” she whispered. “I can not allow this.” She put her palm against his forehead. “I will
not
allow this.”

One moment the memory of seeing into the future was playing across Cainer Cree’s mind and the next, he was unconscious, draped in the arms of the Goddess as she carried him to shore. She laid him down upon the soft sand and sat next to him, lifting his head and placing it in her lap.

“I can not allow you to suffer so, my sweet deargs dul,” she said as she smoothed her palm over his forehead several times, wiping away the violent memory and replacing it with tranquility.

Long into the twilight, she sat there holding him, staring out at the brilliant red sun as it sank beneath the horizon. He slept on peacefully, unaware of the hands that roamed at will over his defenseless body. Neither did he feel the stony thrust of his root as it was worked to erection nor the impalement of the soft, warm cunt that enveloped him within its silky folds.

“Come for me, Beloved,” the Goddess whispered, and felt the pulse of his seed spurting deep within her. She smiled, closing her eyes to the intense climax that shook her body soon after.

She had thrown the Geasa at him long, long ago but she was immune to her own restrictions. How many times, she wondered as she departed that lonely island upon which she kept the Reaper captive, had she taken him in such a manner? Just as he was unaware of her gentle rape, he was equally unaware of the sons he had given her over the years—sons he would never see nor even know existed.

“Nor will I allow your latest Reapers to get in the way of my plans,” she said.

Chapter Fourteen

Queen Clea Robeus felt the blood rush to her face when she looked up to see Leksi Helios standing in her bedchamber. She put a hand to her chest as her head thudded forcefully in her chest.

“This isn’t another hallucination,” the queen said backing away. “You really are here and it was you who killed my father.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Your Majesty,” the warrior was quick to say. He advanced into the room and went to one knee, his clenched fist pressed against his heart. “I am at your command.”

Until this day she had never met the warrior, but she had an artist’s rendering of him that she kept in a velvet-lined frame beneath her pillow each night. The rendering assured her of sweet dreams of the gallant warrior, and over the years that it had been in her possession, she had memorized the handsome man’s every facial feature. As she stared at him now, she realized the rendering—as expertly as it had been painted—was but a pale reproduction of the man’s true male beauty.

“Lord Leksi,” Clea said in a breathless tone. “How did you…?”

“I would offer my condolences on the demise of your father but considering he was in the process of killing me when he met his fate, I would be lying. I am glad he is no longer among the living.”

“As am I,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But how came you to be here in the first place, milord? You say he was trying to kill you?”

“I knew you had no knowledge of what was transpiring earlier this day,” Leksi said. “Lord Konan Krull and I were interned in your dungeon, and I was at the mercy of your father’s torturers.”

Shock washed across Clea’s face and she got to her feet, her mouth dropping open. She snapped it shut and rushed to him, bending down to put her hands on his shoulders as she bid him rise, her eyes searching his face for signs of suffering. She reached up to cup his cheeks with trembling hands.

“You are all right? Did they…?”

“I am well, Highness,” he assured her, and dared to take one of her hands in his and bring the palm to his lips. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You are sure?” she asked, tears flooding her eyes. “You looked well enough in the dungeon when I saw you.” She blushed. “I really did see you, didn’t I?”

“Aye, Your Majesty, you did and I am fine.” He smiled at her, and Clea’s heart soared among the stars.

Flustered, she withdrew her hand from his light grasp and backed away from him, her palm tingling from his kiss as she laid it against her chest, crossing it with her other hand.

“I am here at the request of Lord Krull. He wishes for you to know he does not hold you accountable for your father’s actions and is well pleased that you will sit the throne of Pleiades.”

“Despite a veritable army camped at my door?” she asked.

“An army that came to rescue Lord Krull, Your Majesty,” Leksi explained.

“They will not attack?”

“That was never their intention, lest Lord Krull had met his death at the hands of your father.”

Clea reluctantly turned away from looking at that glorious male face, and walked to the window from which she could see the horses poised on the rise above the keep.

“Their intention is not to put me in chains?” she asked, her voice a tiny squeak.

“No, Your Majesty. The riders you see upon the hill are allies to you. They are all women save for Lord Krull.”

She looked around at him. “Allies?” She shook her head. “Pleiades has no allies, Lord Leksi.”

“It does now, milady,” he told her, and came to stand beside her. He pointed to the left. “There are the Daughters of the Night led by Queen Mona herself. To the right are the Amazeens with Queen Deianeira in attendance. And those small bands of women warriors you see in the center are members of the Daughters of the Multitude under the leadership of Lady Galatea. They are all your allies.”

“Such great women!” she said. “I have heard of them all!”

“With your permission, I will send my lady back to bid them come to meet with you,” he said.

Clea frowned. “Your lady?”

Leksi turned and called, “Kynthia.”

One of the most beautiful women Clea had ever seen walked gracefully into the room. Though she was clad as a warrioress, her femininity was apparent in the way she carried herself and the flawlessness of her tawny skin. The most striking part of her was the thick mane of silver hair that flowed to her waist. Clea’s heart sank at the sight of this lovely woman for she knew without doubt this woman had claimed Leksi Helios’ heart.

“May I present Lady Kynthia Ancaeus, niece of Lady Galatea?” Leksi inquired.

Kynthia came forward and curtseyed as gracefully as she walked. Her head was lowered with respect and did not lift until Clea bid her rise.

“It is a great honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Kynthia said.

Clea’s smile wavered as she held a hand out to Kynthia. “It is my pleasure to meet a Daughter of the Multitude for I have so longed to be a true member of that wondrous sect.” Her smile returned. “It was you who made the mist, wasn’t it?”

Kynthia took the older woman’s hand and covered their joined hands with her other hand. “It was, and I am sure my aunt would be delighted to see to your initiation.”

Despite the jealousy she felt to the very roots of her soul, Clea could not help but like the woman standing before her. There was no guile in Kynthia’s expression, no malice or arrogance in her pretty gray eyes. She did not have the air of
condescension
about her that many of her father’s guests had thrown at Clea over the years. Clea would have wagered that what she saw as she looked at Kynthia would always be what she would get—honesty, friendship and mutual love for the man standing between them.

Kynthia nodded. “I will always be your friend if you will allow it.”

Clea drew in a long breath and released it. “That is good to know for I fear I could never compete with you, Kynthia.” She smiled to show she was teasing.

“May I bid the queens come to meet with you?” Kynthia asked.

“By all means!” Clea said, clapping her hands. “We will throw the greatest feast in the history of Pleiades to welcome this new friendship between our countries.”

Kynthia inclined her head, and with permission of the new Queen of Pleiades, left to bring Clea’s new allies to the keep.

“You are a lucky man, Lord Leksi,” Clea said. “She will make you a very good lady-wife.”

“I believe so, too, Your Majesty,” Leksi replied.

“Well, leave me now so I can dress for my guests,” Clea said, then with a twinkle in her rheumy eyes told him he could stay if he didn’t mind seeing her unclad.

Leksi grinned. “I could not swear I would not take advantage of you in such a condition, Your Majesty, and since Kynthia is a veritable harridan when it comes to my faithfulness to her, I would prefer leaving Pleiades with all my organs intact.”

His words made Clea’s womb leap with passion and she had to press her lips together to keep from groaning in frustration. Her palms itched to roam over his brawny body.

Reading her thoughts, Leksi departed as quickly as he decently could. He understood the effect he was having on her and made a mental note to try and find the lonely woman a suitable mate.

Or at least a randy suitor
, came a giggle, weaving its way through his brain.

“Behave, Kynthia,” he said with a chuckle, but was pleased to know he could hear her as he had heard Cainer Cree.

I’m better when I misbehave, warrior
, she replied.

Leksi laughed out loud, surprising the guards he passed on his way out of the corridor that led to the Queen’s chamber. He saw the men gaping at him, no doubt wondering how he had gotten past them in the first place. As they fumbled to pull their swords from the sheaths, he held up his hands—palms to the heavens—and simply vanished before their eyes, his Cheshire grin the last thing to disappear. In his place wafted a wispy fog that clung to the stone walls.

“Crimy!” one of the guards gasped. “Did you see that?”

“S-see what?” the other guard choked out.

They looked at one another, their faces pale and blanched. For a moment, neither spoke then the second guard shrugged.

“I didn’t see n-nothing.”

“Then me neither,” the first guard stated. He lowered his sword back into its sheath. “Didn’t see a goddamned thing what turned to fog!”

* * * * *

Despite having been told not to leave the Venturian capitol at Lyria, Kratos had ridden to Nebul for he had learned Krull and Leksi had been taken prisoner there. Intent on hacking his way into the keep if necessary, he had been pleasantly surprised to find the keep under the guard of beautiful warrior women. Taken straightaway to Lord Krull, afforded respect and admiration, Kratos could not keep from gawking at the imposing women sitting at the table with him.

“I think I’ve died and gone to my reward,” the burly old warrior commented as he took a bite out of the duck leg he waved about to punctuate his words. “Lovely women to look at and food so tempting I can barely breathe!”