Authors: Michelle Styles
Helena froze.
The memory of the black mist from Kybele’s lair crept over her and she wished she was not alone. It was dark. Too dark. It was easy to imagine the Harpies and Furies rising in their chariots, looking for souls to snatch.
The chill she remembered from the cave began to curl its way around her insides again. She felt its weight pressing down on her.
Helena shook her head to clear it. She locked her hands together and then released them. The action restored some small measure of calm. She was not in the cave. What had
caused her to faint then was bad air. The air was clear and fresh here.
She filled her lungs and then expelled a long breath.
She was safe in the open.
Ahead of her was the twisted pine tree, the one half-burnt from a lightning strike years ago. The black charred remains had weathered to a silver grey. Memories of the last time she had been caught out in a thunderstorm swamped her. It became difficult to put one foot in front of the other without thinking about what had happened, and her mother’s screams.
She glanced back at the temple. Its tiled roof and white building were hardly visible through the driving rain.
It was at least a mile away now, and there was very little likelihood that Jupiter’s next thunderbolt would miss.
Jupiter never missed his targets—humans who thought they could consort with gods. Humans like her mother.
Her hand clutched her throat as she sought to control the rising sense of panic. She couldn’t stay out in the open. She had to shelter away from the storm and then she’d return to the temple. When sunlight returned, her fancies would fade.
Niobe would understand.
Helena scrambled a few hundred yards more up the mountain to a shallow cave. The bushes in front of the cave provided some measure of protection. Gratefully she sank to the dry ground and wrapped her arms about her knees, trying not to wince at the rumbles of thunder, trying not to think about what had happened the last time she was out in a thunderstorm.
She blew on her hands and shook the raindrops from her shawl. She gathered a few bits of dry wood and leaves and stared at the meagre pile. The fuel would last barely an hour and then she’d be forced to go out into the storm to gather more wood.
She’d wait until the fire became a necessity rather than a
convenience. In the meantime, she’d recite the first six rituals of Kybele as well as going over the duties she’d need to carry out when she arrived back at the temple. Her hand grasped her set of knucklebones and she threw them three times out of habit. Would Kybele grant her a perfect Venus?
Helena gave a wry smile. All of the throws had come up dogs. What more could she expect—playing
tali
with her forecasting stones?
She pocketed the four pieces of rock crystal and concentrated instead on the tasks she’d have to do when she returned. She had finished with the amphorae, but there was still the incense to see to. Little things to keep her busy…But her eyes kept straying back to the mouth of the cave and the flashes of lightning she could see as Jupiter threw each one.
What had this island done to deserve Jupiter’s wrath?
‘Helena! Helena!’
At first, Helena ignored the shouts, dismissing it as no more than the wind through the trees working on her overactive imagination.
Who could be calling her out in the wind and the rain? No one knew she was here, and no one would look for her. The fear of the storm Furies ran deep within the island. Every child had heard the whispered tales. Three shepherds were taken in a storm last winter, swept away on a sudden flash flood.
Would anyone care that she was out here? Alone? Had anyone even noticed?
She swallowed hard at the thought.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered—liar.
She remembered how Tullio had rescued her from Kybele’s sacred space the other day. He had not hesitated then. She gave a half-smile. Only a lovesick fool would imagine
such a thing, and she was anything but that. She sat still and willed the wind’s voice to go away.
She tossed the knucklebones one more time. Venus.
The voice came closer and she realised with a start that it was Tullio. She heard him call her name again and moved closer to the entrance, peering out through the rain. The wind whipped her hair in front of her face. Impatiently, she pushed it away. He should be back in the temple, not ranging the mountain. She had given orders and he had ignored them. She stepped out into the storm.
Tullio had paused about four hundred yards down the slope, sandalled feet planted between two rocks. The rain had plastered his dark hair to his head. His tunic and cloak dripped with water. He looked so real and solid that Helena’s heart skipped a beat. She called his name, but he gave no sign of having heard her.
He raised his hands to his mouth and called her name again.
At the same instant, the sky became white-blue with a lightning bolt. She heard the deafening crack of thunder and saw the forked tree that had been set ablaze only a few feet from where Tullio stood.
Tullio paled, but he did not run or cower. He called her name again, more loudly this time so that the very rocks rang with it.
Helena grabbed the side of the cave and refused to panic. She started forward until she was no more than a few yards above him, separated by a slope and the small stream bed.
‘Tullio, up here. I’m up here.’
She waited and watched as he seemed not to notice. He half-turned to go back down the mountain and called her name once more. She could hear the longing in it.
Helena summoned all her strength. She made her voice carry and prepared herself to run to him if necessary.
‘Tullio, here I am. Helena.’
This time, he heard her, waved to her and started to climb towards her. He stepped into the disused stream bed, bending his head to avoid an overhanging sapling.
Thunder reverberated above them as a bolt of lightning struck the ground.
Helena heard a roaring sound and screamed a warning.
She rushed forward in time to see him lose his footing as the muddy waters broke through a barrier of sticks and rock. He reached up, made a grab for the saplings and found a handhold, clinging on. The tree bent double from the combination of Tullio and the dark swirling water.
Helena scrambled down the bank, half-walking, half-falling as the rain lashed with cold tendrils across her face. Her hand closed on a large branch and she held it out to him.
It didn’t quite reach and Helena uttered a curse.
The water foamed and swirled white against brown in the darkened world. Tullio’s cloak flowed behind him, a thick black on the water. She could see the veins sticking out on his forearms as he struggled to keep hold. The sound of the rushing water filled her ears.
The sapling he clutched bent under his weight, becoming ready to snap. There was a distinct creak of wood. Then it was gone. Tullio flailed his arms, and grasped another sapling a few hundred yards away.
Helena raced along the bank. He was closer this time. She lay flat on the bank, and held out the branch as close as she dared. If he would lunge forward, she knew she could save him.
She refused to think about the men who had been swept to their death in the last flash flood. Kybele’s judgement, her aunt said.
‘Here, grab this.’
He gave her a furious look. He gestured with his head, not releasing his grip on the tree. The water kept rising.
‘Get back. The bank could go.’
‘I’m not leaving.’ She braced her feet against two rocks and leaned further out. This time, the branch touched his shoulder. ‘If you take this, I can pull you to safety.’
‘You will be swept away with me.’
‘Tullio, you must try.’
Time slowed.
She watched as he let go of the tree with one hand and she felt his weight burden the branch. So heavy, she nearly dropped her end.
She grasped it with both hands and tried to pull backwards. Nothing.
‘Hang on, Helena.’
‘Oh, Tullio, I can’t.’
Her hands started to slip on the wet wood. The rain grew thicker. A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky and showed Tullio’s white face as he battled for footing. Her arms screamed with pain and exhaustion.
She had to hang on.
Her shoulders ached until she thought she’d have to let go. The branch started to slip from her grasp. Hand over hand, Tullio climbed forward.
Suddenly, the branch felt light and Tullio dropped beside her. His curly black hair was plastered against his head. Rain and river water dripped off his body, but he was alive.
Helena collapsed against the rock. He was alive. She wanted to touch to make sure he was real, but she didn’t dare. There was too much between them. She contented herself with allowing her eyes to devour him.
When the rain started dripping off her nose, she became
aware that she should do something, say something. They could not stay here for ever, staring at each other.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
Tullio moved within touching distance of Helena, his eyes feasting on the way her wet gown moulded to her curves. He didn’t want to think how close he had come to being swept away.
She had risked her own life to save his. He tried and failed to think of another woman who would have done that.
The damp had made her hair curl and little ringlets framed her face. He had spent the last hour imagining her injured or worse and she was fine. He wanted to crush her to him and throttle her at the same time. She could have been the one caught in the water. She could have been swept to her death or hit with one of Jupiter’s bolts. How dare she go off without telling anyone? Particularly after what had happened back at the temple.
‘Is this another one of your duties? What do you think you are doing?’ The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. A sharp intake of breath showed his remark had struck a raw nerve.
‘I have just rescued you,’ Helena replied. ‘The very least I expected was a word of thanks.’
‘Thank you.’ Tullio wiped the wet strands off his forehead. ‘Galla is frantic with worry. I volunteered to search the mountain for you.’
‘I went looking for Niobe. She is lost.’ She placed her hands on her hips. ‘Someone had to find her and the guards were too busy making the temple safe. Galla should know I can take care of myself.’
‘You could have come to me,’ he said quietly. ‘My men and I would have helped.’
‘There wasn’t time.’ She held out a red shawl. He could see the frightened look in her eyes. ‘I spotted this blowing in the wind. I wanted to catch her before she wandered further away. But I can’t find her anywhere. I went in circles, calling until my voice was hoarse. Then the full force of the storm hit and I had to take shelter. I only hope she is safe and dry. Not out there.’
She nodded towards the flooded river, running in full spate.
‘She is with her mother. One of the guards found her and brought her back. Last seen, she was happily making pastry.’
‘You do not know how much that means to me. I was so…so worried.’
Her shoulders sagged with relief and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Tullio forced his hands to curl around his belt, rather than pull her into his arms.
‘All this could have been avoided if you had consulted with someone,’ he said, watching her rearrange her sodden shawl.
‘How did you know where to look for me?’
He shrugged, and tore his mind from his frantic scrambling over the rocks. His legs bore bloody scratches from thorn bushes. Tomorrow they would itch and he would curse, but now nothing mattered except Helena was safe. ‘Instinct. Galla was frightened for you.’
‘She worries too much. I can take care of myself.’ Helena’s laugh sounded hollow and Tullio wondered who she was trying to convince. ‘No one should be scared of a little thunder and lightning.’
‘I have known grown men to cower in their beds when Jupiter becomes angry and starts to throw his lightning bolts.’
Another thunderclap reverberated overhead. Helena jumped and wrapped her arms about her middle. ‘I was once caught in a storm.’
Tullio resisted the urge to draw her into his arms. If she was
to trust him, she had to turn to him. His ex-wife’s accusation of being too ready to fight other people’s battles still rang in his ears. Before he acted, he needed Helena’s trust. ‘Was the storm as bad as this?’
H
elena stared at the rain striking the swollen river rather than looking at Tullio’s face. It mattered that he had not laughed at her or tried to make her forget her fear with false jollity. Long years of practice and her aunts’ attitude towards her mother made her wary, but she had to explain.
‘My mother and I were out walking, and the thunder came. My mother had been laughing about something, I remember that.’ The words came haltingly at first, but picked up speed as she went on. ‘She let go of my hand so I could pick some flowers, the tiny white ones you find dotted among the rocks. She was going to make me a crown. Then there was a flash of bright light. Later I learnt a lightning bolt hit my mother. She died instantly. They said it was divine retribution for her misdeeds.’
‘What misdeeds?’ He had not moved, but she could see the droplets of water gathering on his tunic. ‘Is that why the temple changed allegiance to Kybele?’
‘You know that!’ Helena stared open mouthed. Sometimes Tullio appeared to be in communication with the gods.
‘I notice things.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘The friezes with the snakes on the hospital walls, the statues with their inscriptions
altered and the sibyl’s reputation as a healer. Not difficult to figure out. Twinned snakes belong to one god—Aesculapius. Why did it happen? The usual story of the god deserting the island, not answering prayers?’
‘My mother had me and the god Aesculapius stopped speaking to her,’ Helena said in a small voice. ‘She was supposed to be leading her people, but she had me.’
‘And this is a crime? I think any mother would be proud to have a daughter as clever and quick thinking as you.’
‘Not always, but Zenobia claimed she had lost her powers, brought disgrace on this island. She had a great reputation as a healer and she threw it all away for the sake of a man who deserted her and the child she bore. Zenobia demanded we worship her goddess, and Aunt Flavia agreed. In a dream, Kybele came to her and she started to prophesy. That is what the Lady Zenobia told me. Aunt Flavia refuses to discuss it.’
‘Is there somewhere dry we can speak of this?’ Tullio sneezed and then gave a rueful smile. ‘We should take cover.’
‘There is a dry cave a little way from here. I was waiting there when I heard you call. The river is too high to cross. It should have subsided in the morning.’
They walked along in silence for a while. Every now and then Helena risked a glance at Tullio, but his face gave no clue. She wondered if he’d draw away. Those who heard her mother’s story always did. She could clearly remember the taunts of Zenobia’s daughters until Aunt Flavia silenced them. When she stumbled, his fingers, warm and firm despite the rain, caught her elbow and held her upright.
‘Did you ever see your father?’ Tullio asked as they ducked inside the cave.
‘When he found out my mother was pregnant, he left.’ Helena flinched as she remembered the day Zenobia told her
the story, her eighth birthday, the gleam of triumph in the older woman’s eyes and the giggles from her cousins. ‘My birth caused disaster for the island.’
‘But your aunt, the sibyl, took you in. If she had felt that way, she would never have had you for her assistant.’
‘Aunt Flavia made a promise to my mother.’ Helena ignored the sudden lump in her throat. It was hard to speak of such things, but she felt Tullio needed to understand. ‘Aunt Flavia always keeps her word. She has endured many things for that pledge.’
‘Whatever the sibyl has done, you have given back a thousandfold. My men and I will long remember your kindness and your courage.’
Helena grasped her Kybele amulet. She should make a joking remark, something light, but the words died on her lips as she saw his intent face.
She heard her breath go in and out several times as she stared at him.
Tullio moved towards her. His hand traced the line of her jaw, sending tingles along it. Helena shivered, but not from the cold. His hand captured hers and brought it to his lips. The coldness of the rainwater contrasted with their warmth.
Out here she had felt so alone, but now she knew, within his arms, there would be a measure of peace. It did not matter that this man was supposed to be her enemy. It only mattered that he was here, with her, now.
He made no move to touch her further, but stood still and upright. A muscle jumped in his cheek as her hand stroked it. She gave into temptation and laid her head against his chest. Immediately his arms came around her and held her tight.
‘Thank you for coming to rescue me, even if I didn’t know I needed rescuing.’
‘And thank you for rescuing me. I didn’t fancy spending a night clinging to a branch.’ His fingers lifted her chin so that she stared into his deep brown eyes. ‘I wanted to make sure you were safe. I needed to know you were safe. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes.’
He crushed her to him as if he were afraid that she would somehow vanish in the rain, or disappear with the next clap of thunder. The strength in his arms caused her heart to soar. He had come searching for her. He knew the risk and he had still come. Maybe he did care about her. More likely he was worried without her, the seafarers would control the temple.
Helena broke away from his grasp. ‘You’re wet. I should start a fire.’
‘That is one possibility.’
‘It is you who will take harm from the cold. You could have drowned in that flood.’
‘But I didn’t. Someone has to look out for you, Helena.’
She busied her hands with the twigs and bits of branches she had collected for a fire. Then she struck one of her fire stones, created a spark and the old wood burst into flame. She sat back on her heels. She didn’t always look after other people. He made it sound as if there was something wrong with that.
‘There was no need,’ she said around the lump in her throat. ‘As you can see, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’ve done so for years.’
‘There was every need, Helena.’ His hand reached out and touched her shoulder. Brief, gentle, but filling her with warmth. ‘You spend so much time sorting out other people’s problems that I wonder if you ever see the danger you are in.’
‘I’m not in any danger.’ Helena pushed away the thoughts of Androceles and his designs on the temple. These were
problems she’d think about tomorrow, concerns she refused to share with Tullio. ‘Not any physical danger.’
‘I had to be sure.’
He put both his hands on either side of her face, not with any force, but a gentle caress. A caress that sent a deepening warmth throughout her body.
All she could do was nod and hope he understood.
He lowered his face to hers and their lips touched. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, back to her mouth. Helena forgot everything—all her thoughts about the temple, the problems with the pirates, the storm—everything but the sensation of his lips.
She shivered. He pulled back. His eyebrows drew together in frown and he eased the shawl from her shoulders.
‘You will catch a cold.’
‘It doesn’t matter, the damp makes no difference,’ she said with a smile and pressed closer. She ran her hands down the length of his arm, feeling his strength under the pads of her fingers.
‘Let me take off my cloak and yours.’
With one movement, the heavy woollen cloaks dropped to the ground. He stood in front of her, dressed in his damp tunic that hugged his skin. He reached down and undid his sandals, revealing the full length of his muscular leg. Helena feasted her eyes.
It seemed as if he were holding himself in check.
‘Do you understand what you are saying, Helena? If we continue, I might not be able to stop.’
Stop? She had no desire for him to stop. She wanted to feel the sensations that had coursed through her after he rescued her from the black mist. To make sure he was real and here with her. She knew she had lied to herself that those things were unimportant.
‘I do.’ Her hand curled around his neck and brought his face level to hers. ‘Indeed I do.’
Their lips met, clung. She brought her hands around his body. Her breasts pressed against the wall of his chest. She could feel the hard length of him against her.
When she moved slightly, it grew harder. His hands cupped around her buttocks, travelled up to her waist and pulled her more firmly against him. Sensations of warmth radiated out from her centre, hotter than the fire that crackled behind them.
A hunger within her grew, fuelled by the sensations racking her body. She heard him groan in the back of his throat. His lips travelled down her neck, making lines of fire to the hollow of her throat. His hand went to her shoulder and moved her gown, one finger running along the length of her collarbone. He caught a drop of water from the hollow of her throat and brought it to his lips.
‘My dreams have been full of you,’ he rasped.
Then his hands ran lightly over her gown, shaping her curves, pausing to encircle and tease her breasts, and all the while, the hardness of him pressed against the apex of her legs.
How long they stood, his hand drawing circles on her back, she didn’t know. All she knew was the wonderful sense of warmth radiating out all over her.
Her gown felt heavy, the rain running off it to make puddles at her feet. Her hand plucked at the brooches that held her gown, undid them and she allowed the gown to drop to the floor of the cave to join the cloaks with a soft whoosh. He eased the under-tunic off her shoulders and that fell to the ground as well.
Now she was only clothed in her breast band.
She paused, uncertain of his reaction, but his eyes lit a renewed fire.
His hands ran down her body, caressing her skin as if she was made of the most precious glass, drawing circles of fire on it. Where his fingers went, his lips and tongue followed.
No one had said that the touch of a man would do this to her insides. Helena remembered the gossip of the village girls and her cousins—how they said that this was something to be feared. She felt no fear.
The lashing of the rain and the intermittent rumble of thunder no longer scared her. It seemed to urge her onwards, towards this man and her destiny. This was what she was born for—to feel his touch, breath his scent and taste his mouth.
Her hand touched his belt, hesitated.
Would he think her too bold?
Would he withdraw as he had done after the cave? She couldn’t bear rejection a second time.
He pulled away and looked at her with gleaming passion-filled eyes. Helena knew she should blush, lower her head, but she found she didn’t want to. She wanted to look on him as he looked on her. She wanted to see the ripples of muscles and the faint dusting of hair on his chest that went to a single line, pointing ever downwards towards the essence of him.
‘Do you understand what you are doing to me?’
‘Please, Tullio.’
She felt her knees tremble and knew she could no longer stand. To steady herself, her hands reached out and grasped his tunic. She had no wish to be a clinging vine to his oak, but she had no choice. Her legs threatened to give way.
He eased her back down on to the discarded clothes.
She watched him loom over her. Large, masculine, but moving with an easy, almost lazy grace. He discarded his
tunic, allowed it to fall to the ground, then his loincloth. His naked body was fully revealed for her. The light from the embers cast shadows on the golden skin. It was how she remembered him. Sculpted like marble, yet wonderfully alive and warm. She glanced down and saw him, proud and hard. Beautiful.
Her tongue moistened her lips.
He was looking at her with a question in his eyes. She nodded, reached up towards him and it seemed to satisfy him.
His hands went to her breast band and pushed down, unravelling it until the tight rose-tipped buds of her nipples were revealed. He bent his head and lapped at each one. Fresh sensations washed through her. She was new made for him. Her body arched and cried out for his tongue. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.
His knee parted her legs and her body bucked against the firm muscle. She wanted to feel all of him, needed to feel him. She moaned in the back of her throat and her head thrashed from side to side.
Overhead, a huge crash of thunder.
She cried out, and felt his finger slip inside her, giving her some relief. In and out. Not enough. The fire within her grew wilder with each touch, consuming her being.
More.
Her hands pulled him upwards, and she felt his full body against hers. Her hips lifted as the tip of him nudged the summit of her thighs, hot and hard, pushing them apart.
She stiffened, drew back. How could she tell him of her sudden fear?
Without saying anything, he seemed to understand. He stroked her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead. His lips brushed her skin. A light feathery touch, but enough to make
her hips drive upwards, longing for him to make her feel as if she were a part of something.
‘It will hurt for but an instant, then there will be pleasure. You will see. I will go as gently as I can.’
She nodded, not really understanding. Her body demanded more. She wanted to be one with him.
She gasped as he entered her. Pain coursed through her, sudden and unexpected in its sharpness. She stiffened, but her insides stretched, grew to accommodate the length of him. He lay still, embedded in her, a very masculine smile on his face. His hand smoothed the hair off her forehead.
‘No more pain now.’
She hesitated, uncertain if she should believe him. He was inside her. She wanted more. Her body was driving her onwards.
He began to move gently at first. She opened her legs, longing to feel him deeper and then her hips began to move with an age-old instinct.
Slowly, then faster, until the world around her exploded in a rain of stars.
A shaft of sunlight pierced Helena’s eyes. She wrinkled her nose and tried to move away from the bright light. Only then did she realise that she was not lying in her comfortable bed, but that her ear was pressed against Tullio’s massive chest, the steady drum of his heart filled her hearing and her legs were entwined with his.