Warrior Rising (14 page)

“Achilles remembers his actions when the berserker leaves him, but when it is upon him he is fully under the control of it.”

“How does it go away?”

“The rage eventually burns itself out, leaving Achilles drained, but himself once more,” Odysseus said.

“That's why women fear him. Because it's not really him. I mean, he literally changes.”

“And now will you fear him, too?” Odysseus asked her.

Kat met his eyes. “No. I'm not like the other women around here.”

“Like other women or not, under the possession of the berserker Achilles is dangerous. I would advise you to have care when you're alone with him.” Odysseus seemed about to say more, but instead, jaw set and face unusually sober, he stared back in the direction of the sea.

“I'll be careful. Plus,” she added with a grim smile, “I'm under the protection of a goddess, remember?”

His expression softened and he smiled at her. “I would not forget my goddess, Princess.” Odysseus hesitated, then added. “Yet even under Athena's protection, you ran from him.”

Kat sighed. “Yeah, well, it seemed like the smartest thing to do. What was happening to him surprised me. I was caught off guard, which won't happen again. So you say that strong emotions trigger the change.”

"They do.”

“Then why didn't he change in Agamemnon's tent? Achilles hates the king, right?”

Odysseus nodded, “Yes.”

“Hatred is a strong emotion, and I know he was mightily pissed by what happened in there.”

Odysseus gave her a puzzled look.

“Pissed equates to angry,” she explained quickly.

“Oh, yes. Agamemnon usually makes Achilles very angry.”

“Okay, again, then why didn't he change?”

Odysseus shrugged. “Achilles was calm, his anger was controlled and—”

“Wait! Answer me this,” Kat interrupted. “Achilles has to train to maintain his fighting edge, right? So he practices with the sword, or whatever, and he probably runs or works out or both. Right?”

Odysseus's brow furrowed. “Achilles trains often. He is also an excellent runner.”

“Does the berserker come on him when he's training?”

“No. I have never seen the berserker claim him as he trains.”

“But he gets all hot and sweaty and worn out?” Kat asked, getting visibly excited.

“Yes, of course.”

“That's it!” Kat said. “If he stays
physically
calm it doesn't matter how mad he gets. The change doesn't happen. And it works the other way, too. As long as he keeps his
emotional
response under control, it doesn't matter how intense he works physically, he'll stay himself. That's why he has so many scars. I'll bet his heart rate and his breathing have to elevate
along with
a major emotional spike for the change to begin. So he has to let someone beat the shit out of him to get his heart rate up,
and
get pissed about it.” A little thrill went through her as she realized what that meant about the kisses they'd been sharing. “I suppose that makes sense, if any of this does,” she said more to herself than to Odysseus. “The change is physiological as well as emotional, so it must take a trigger that is based on both.”

Odysseus was studying her intently. “You are a most unusual woman, Princess.”

Kat opened her mouth to make a quip about “that's all a part of being an oracle and whatnot” when Achilles' deep voice sounded from somewhere close behind them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Odysseus?”

Odysseus smiled smoothly and stood, grasping Achilles' forearm in greeting as he joined them. “Can an old friend not visit for no particular reason?”

Kat saw that Achilles' hair and tunic were soaking wet and he was carrying his breastplate, as well as the empty goblet she didn't remember dropping. There were dark circles under his eyes she would have sworn hadn't been there before they'd had their interrupted make-out session, but other than that he looked perfectly normal again.

“So Agamemnon sent you,” Achilles was saying.

Odysseus's smile widened. “Of course.”

Achilles' lip twitched. “And you will have to report to him that I was, indeed, serious, that I will not join the battle tomorrow.”

“And your Myrmidons?”

Achilles shrugged his broad shoulders. “My men are my companions, not my slaves. They shall do as they wish.”

“Which means they stand down with you,” Odysseus said.

“Apparently.”

“I bid you good night then, and return to my tent. After reporting this sad news to our king,” Odysseus said.

“He is your king, not mine,” Achilles said.

Odysseus lifted one shoulder. “As you have said many times before. Good night, my friend.” He bowed his head to Kat. “I wish you good night, too, Princess.”

“Good night, Odysseus,” Kat said.

Just before he walked away, Achilles said, “Odysseus, I thank you for seeing that the princess returned to my tent unharmed.”

Odysseus's smile turned sad. “Old friend, I do not believe the princess was in any real danger. I simply kept her entertained while we awaited your return.”

“Good night, my friend,” Achilles called after him.

It was only after Odysseus was gone that Achilles looked at her. Kat met his gaze and forced herself not to fidget nervously. She wished he would say something, but he just continued to look at her, his expression inscrutable.

Finally she decided to say the most neutral thing that came to her mind. “You look tired.”

He gave a slight nod. “As do you.”

“I suppose I am.”

Achilles cleared his throat. “You have no reason to trust my word, but I swear that you need not fear sleeping in my tent. I will not touch you. I will not harm you. What happened on the beach will not—”

“I believe you,” Kat interrupted him, realizing suddenly that she didn't want to hear him tell her that what happened between them on the beach was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. “And I'm not afraid of you.”

The disbelief on his face was easy to read.

“Okay, I'm not afraid of who you are right now,” Kat corrected. “And I'm not afraid that you're going to spontaneously change into something else without, well, let's just say extreme provocation.”

Achilles grunted, though he didn't look convinced by her little speech, and gestured to the tent flap. “Then you should go to your bed. You do look tired.”

Kat stood and walked the short distance to the opening of Achilles' tent. When she saw that he wasn't following her she said, “Aren't you coming?”

“I thought I'd give you time to . . .” He hunched his shoulders and his words trailed off.

“How long are we going to be sharing a tent?”

He blinked in surprise at her question. “I do not know.”

“Probably more than a night or two, right?”

“Yes. Probably.”

“Then we might as well get over being all awkward around each other,” Kat said matter-of-factly, neatly avoiding mentioning that the reason they were behaving so awkwardly around one another was because they'd just made out causing him to almost turn into a raging monster. “So come on in here with me, okay?”

He grunted again, but this time he nodded and when she ducked under the flap he followed her.

Once inside, Achilles ignored her completely. He went directly over to the huge bed, stepped inside the gauzy curtain, and with his back to her, proceeded to strip off his tunic and dry himself with a linen robe.

Kat sat on her nest of a bed, took off her shoes and wiped sand from her feet. Then she unwrapped herself from the silky, ruby-colored robe that was the top layer off what she was wearing, leaving her dressed only in a thin cream-colored tunic that somehow fit loosely while still being flattering to her young body. And the entire time Kat busied herself semiundressing she tried unsuccessfully not to sneak glances at Achilles.

When he emerged from behind his bed curtain to dim the lanterns, she saw he was naked except for a short linen towel-like thing that was wrapped low around his hips. Kat stared, disbelieving at the scars that riddled his muscular chest. As if feeling her gaze, his eyes flicked to hers.

“You have more scars than I've ever seen on one person,” Kat blurted.

His jaw tightened. “I know I look like a monster.”

“No, you don't,” she said quickly, relieved that they were talking again. “You just look like a man who has used his body as a weapon.”

He stared at her and then he gave a brusque nod. “Exactly.” He turned down the last of the lanterns, leaving the tent lit only in a dreamlike light. Then he went back through the gauzy curtain and got into bed.

Kat wanted to give up for the night—to roll over and close her eyes and pretend that she was really passed out on Jacky's couch and would wake up with nothing more than a wicked hangover. But she couldn't—not if she wanted to get back to her body and her life. Hera had said she had to work fast, so she didn't have time for self-delusion and procrastination. And there was more to it than that. Achilles' touch had sealed the attraction she'd already felt for him. Kat wanted to help him. She also was self-aware enough to admit that she wanted him to touch her again. Yes, what had started to happen to him had scared her. It had also excited her.
He
excited her, as did the knowledge that Achilles had not been with a woman in a very long time.

“Achilles,” she spoke softly, not wanting to wake him if he had fallen asleep.

“You have nothing to fear, Princess.”

“You're not asleep,” she said, then rolled her eyes at herself. She was an educated, intelligent woman and that was the best she could come up with?

“I do not sleep,” he said flatly.

“Ever?”

“Rarely.”

She smiled, even though he couldn't see her. “Now
that
I know I can help you with.”

There was a pause and then he said, “How?”

“Well, I have to come closer to you. If that's okay.”

"You may come,” he said, but Kat thought his tone was decidedly unthrilled.

She parted the bed curtains to find him sitting stiffly up, his back leaning against the carved oak headboard. Kat gestured at the edge of the bed. “Mind if I sit there?”

“No, I don't mind.”

She sat down—actually, she perched on the edge of the bed. Still he changed position so that there was no way his legs were in any danger of touching any part of her body. His blue eyes were watching her warily.

“You said you can help me sleep.”

“I can,” she said.

“How?” But before she could answer he added, “I won't drink a potion or smoke a vile-tasting weed.”

“Fine with me.”

“Then how?”

Kat thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to describe hypnotism to a warrior from the ancient world. Finally she settled for, “It's a spell I can do with Athena's power. An oracle thing.”

He nodded and looked serious. “The goddess does have vast powers. What must you do?”

“Actually, it's more something that you do and I help you with. Hang on.” Kat went through the curtains and lifted a dimmed lantern from its hook, bringing it back to sit on Achilles' bedside table. She turned the wick down even lower, so that there was only a small flickering flame. Satisfied, she returned to her precarious perch on the bed. “To start with, you have to relax,” Kat told him.

He looked skeptical.

She smiled. “Just trust me. I'm the oracle.”

“Well, oracle, were I able to relax I would be able to sleep. So there, you see, is the problem.”

“All right, let's just talk. Maybe I can sneak the spell in.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, a lot like we're doing right now. And a lot like we were doing earlier tonight.”

He looked away from her. “I owe you an apology, Princess. I should not have touched you as I did.”

“If I remember correctly, I touched you first.”

“I should not have allowed it. It was dangerous.”

“Odysseus told me about the rage that overtakes you,” Kat said slowly.

“That is why I shouldn't have allowed it,” he said.

“Does it happen every time you, uh, kiss a woman?”

His eyes met hers again. “It happens when I become aroused.”

“Every time?” Kat asked softly.

“I—I do not know.”

“What does that mean? How can't you know?”

His blue eyes met hers. “Simple.” Achilles moved so fast she had no warning. One moment he was sitting there. The next he'd lunged forward and grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward so that her face was just inches from his.

“I cannot know because I do not usually allow myself to desire a woman. To touch a woman. Not as I am desiring and touching you now.”

Oh, shit,
Kat thought.
It would have been easier if I'd been sent to hell.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Really?” Kat kept her voice carefully neutral. “So you didn't manhandle and then proceed to scare the living shit out of Briseis?”

Her words had the desired effect on him. The rusty light that was beginning to tinge his eyes faded and he let loose her wrists as if she'd burned him.

“No,” he said shortly. “I never touched the maiden Briseis.”

Kat quelled the urge to rub at the marks he was sure to have left on her wrists. “You didn't touch her, but she was scared of you anyway, wasn't she?”