Goddess of the Rose (26 page)

“But if those things are in the forest, why is there a gate at all? Shouldn't we seal it up and be sure it's never opened again?”

“We cannot. Mikado, not everything in the forest is evil. You should know that even dreams must be tempered with reality from time to time. Our reality comes from the forest and the threads of reality that drift there from the worlds beyond.”

“First thing tomorrow you'll check all the rest of the hedge to be sure no other area has been weakened by the roses being sick?”

“I will. You may rest easily, Mikado. The realm is safe under my protection.”

She knew what he said was the truth—she knew it because she felt it deep within her blood. All her intuition told her that this incredible man-beast would give his life to keep the Realm of the Rose, and its Empousa, safe.

“Thank you.”

This time instead of bristling at her appreciation, he simply bowed his head slightly.

For a while they sipped their wine, each lost in their own thoughts.

“May I ask you another question?” Mikki said.

“You may.” He was looking at her with an open, interested expression.

“When I asked you if you could teach me to conjure things, you said you couldn't because only someone born of a Titan had that ability. Just exactly who were your parents?”

He didn't respond to her question for a long time, weighing whether he should tell her his story, or whether he should stay silent and remain a mystery to her—a mystery that she would eventually tire of trying to solve.

The thought made him feel crushingly alone.

When he began to speak, his powerful voice was unusually subdued, and he could not look at her. Instead, he stared blankly out into the night.

“My father is the Titan Cronos. One day he visited the ancient island of Crete and was struck by more than the beauty of the land amidst sea. He saw and instantly fell in love with the fair Pasiphea. But she was no mindless maiden. Pasiphea knew that mortals who become lovers of the gods usually come to tragic endings, so she refused the Titan. Cronos was not dissuaded by her rejection—he waited and watched. When Minos, king of Crete, chose Pasiphea as his bride, my father saw his opportunity. On Minos's wedding night, he drugged the king and took his likeness, as well as his bride's virginity. Minos was fooled, as was Pasiphea. But Cronos's wife, Rhea, was not. She suspected her husband's infidelity and confronted Cronos. He denied loving Pasiphea. And in truth, he did not lie. Once he'd sated his desire for the mortal woman, his love faded. Still, Rhea was not satisfied. She watched Pasiphea, discovering that the new bride was pregnant. In a fit of jealous anger, Rhea cursed Pasiphea's child. If, indeed, it was the son of a Titan, the child would be born not man or god, but an abomination, a creature like none other in the ancient world. That is how I came into being.”

“You
are
what the myth of the Minotaur was based on!”

Bottomless and empty, his eyes found hers. “That is the name Minos gave me. He loathed me from the moment I was born.”

“And your mother?”

“Pasiphea was kinder than her husband. She even used to secretly visit me, and I remember when I was young, she sometimes sang me to sleep.” He paused, struggling to control his emotions.

“Your mother loved you.”

He flinched and felt as if her words physically hurt him. “I like to believe that she tried to love me. She named me Asterius, refusing to call me by the name Minos had given me, but even in her kindness she could not forget that I was a beast. She knew that because of my monstrous form, Cronos had somehow been successful in entering her bed, the very thought of which was abhorrent to her. The sight of me was a constant reminder that the Titan had tricked her and invaded her body. So she persuaded Minos to build an enormous labyrinth, saying that in the center of it was where he should hide the fortunes of Crete, and that I would guard it for him. The labyrinth on Crete is where I lived, away from my mother's eyes and those who would hunt me for sport. It is where I would still be today if not for Hecate.”

“My God! They tell stories about you. Stories that say maidens and boys were sacrificed to you.”

The stunned expression on her face made him feel hot and cold at the same time.

“You should know that I have not always been as I am now. Before I answered Hecate's summons, I was as Rhea cursed me to be—an abomination, of both body and soul. When I pledged myself to the goddess, she lifted Rhea's curse and gave me the heart and soul of a man, though there was nothing even the Great Goddess could do to alter my physical form.”

His hand was resting on the table near the open map. The Empousa reached out and put hers on top of his. He looked down at her hand.

“I don't see an abomination when I look at you,” Mikki told him.

“Perhaps you should look deeper. There is still a beast within me.”

“I'd like to believe in the man, if you'll let me, Asterius.”

“The man . . .” His words were barely audible. He looked from her hand into her eyes. “The man hears you, Mikado, even if it seems your voice is speaking from his dreams.”

“Maybe I am.” She smiled softly. “You and I have been in each other's dreams before.”

He turned her hand over in his and let his thumb trace the delicate lifeline that bisected her palm, following it until it met the pulse point at her wrist. Then, with a caress softer than the brush of a butterfly's wings, he smoothed his thumb in sensuous circles over her pulse.

“I can feel the beat of your heart,” he murmured.

“Can you feel that it's beating faster?”

He lifted his eyes to hers. “I can.” Her face was so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. Her eyes had gone soft and her lips were parted. He wanted to taste her! He wanted to drink her in and lose himself in her sweetness. With a low growl he bent his head, replacing his thumb with his lips. He could feel her life's blood pulsing, and he tasted the salt of her skin. She shivered under his touch, and he let his lips move to the delicate indentation of her elbow. Then he lifted his head. Her breathing had deepened, and she was staring at him with wide, liquid eyes. Before reason and common sense could make him change his mind, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. She made a little gasping sound that seemed to call to his soul, and he deepened the kiss.

Pain lanced through his body. His blood had turned to white-hot lava, and it pounded with ferocious intensity within him. For a moment he was so disoriented that his claws automatically shot from his skin and he bared his teeth in a snarl, ready for the stealthy enemy that had attacked him. Then he understood. Hecate's spell!

The Empousa did not love him; therefore, her passion would not be allowed.

He raised tortured eyes to hers. Mikado looked pale and shocked, and she had scooted back in her chair as far away from him as she could get.

Abruptly, he stood, knocking over his chair and causing the little table to rock dangerously. “This was unwise. I should not be here with you.”

“What's wrong? What's happened? You look like you're in terrible pain.”

She reached one hand hesitantly toward him, but he lurched away from her, not able to bear her gesture of kindness.

“You must not touch me!”

“Okay!” She dropped her hand shakily to her side. “I won't touch you. Just sit down and tell me what's going on.”

“No.” He took another step back. “I should have obeyed your command to create the map, delivered it to you, and returned to my lair.”

“I didn't command you to make the map. I asked you to, just like I asked you to have dinner with me. You didn't do anything wrong—
we
didn't do anything wrong,” she said, looking utterly confused by his sudden change.

“That is where you are mistaken. You did nothing wrong, but I did. Today I began to twist the threads of reality into a waking dream, something that, even in this realm of dreams and magick, is as impossible as it is dangerous. This cannot happen again.”

The Guardian flung himself from the balcony. With the agility of a beast and the power of a god, he distanced himself from her, and as he did the pain in his body subsided, leaving him exhausted and empty.

So this was what his life had come to. This was what it was to be. He was a man within a beast, tethered by a goddess. He was to know desire but not surcease. Like Tantalus, he was to live in torment—his relief in sight, but unattainable. Asterius stumbled to a halt, threw back his head and roared his agony to the deaf heavens.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

M
IKKI woke up with a headache and puffy, red eyes. Yawning and stretching, she walked to the wall of windows and opened the door. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, and the morning was so cool she could see her breath. Someone had already cleared away all the dishes from dinner. It made Mikki sad, as if the night before, the good along with the bad, had been wiped away without a trace. She walked over to the chair in which he had sat, her fingers lingering on the back of it.

He'd never be just the Guardian to her again, not after what he'd told her last night, and not after what she'd seen in his eyes—a soul-deep loneliness, and, for just a moment, a longing that struck an answering cord within her.

But it didn't matter that he'd given her a glimpse of his soul. Nothing could come of it. And not just because of the obvious—that he was a beast, or, more accurately, he was a creature, a mixture of mortal and god, a being like no other, as he had explained last night.
Asterius
. . . No. It wasn't because of the obvious; the obvious mattered less and less to her. If she was honest with herself, she'd have to admit that, even back in Tulsa when he'd first begun to seduce her in her dreams, his appearance hadn't been a deterrent. The truth was quite the opposite. His appearance had been a fascination from the beginning.

It was impossible between them because he was making it that way. It was as if there was some kind of unwritten rule that no one was allowed to get close to him. He'd touched her—kissed her—clearly desired her. Yet he'd run from her as if she was the one who was dangerous. His behavior was confusing and just plain annoying.

Mikki rubbed at her eyes again. Okay, maybe it
was
a rule. Maybe no one was allowed to be close to him. The smart thing to do would be to talk to Hecate about him. To ask the goddess about . . . about . . . about what? Did she really want to ask the imposing Hecate if it was okay that her new Empousa had a crush on the man-beast that was her Guardian? Please. Mikki wasn't an idiot. It wasn't okay. Asterius had made that clear. If she asked the goddess outright and Hecate commanded her to stay away from him, then what would she do? She'd have to keep her distance from him. Wouldn't she?

Better not to ask at all.

Was she actually considering pursuing him, even after what had happened between them the night before? Yes. Yes, she was. Mikki had no idea where it would take them, but she couldn't forget the physical jolt that passed through his body when she'd touched him. She rubbed her wrist absently, remember the heat of his lips. And beyond his physical magnetism, she'd seen the vast loneliness that seemed to shadow his every unguarded expression, even as he rejected her touch.
But he's so used to being treated like an abomination that maybe his rejection is more about fear and habit than the desire to push me away.

She needed to think more about where she was heading. She needed to think more about Asterius. Mikki shivered as the early morning breeze whipped through her sheer nightdress. The hot springs would be all dreamy and steamy on a cool morning like this . . . what better place to think?

Before she started down the balcony stairs to follow the path around the side of the palace, Mikki closed her eyes and sent Daphne a quick thought.

 

 

MIKADO was thinking about him as she bathed. He could sense it—feel it. Not because she was calling to him. It was nothing that specific. She was just
thinking
about him. He shouldn't be able to sense it. He shouldn't know. But he did.

This had never before happened. In all the eons he had been Hecate's Guardian, and all the generations of her Empousas who had presided as High Priestess within the realm, he had never felt the thoughts of one of Hecate's chosen.

Just as he had never felt the gentleness of any Empousa's touch. Not even the priestess he had loved . . . and who he thought might possibly have loved him in return. No woman had ever touched him caressingly. He only had a vague recollection of his mother sneaking into the labyrinth a few times. One of those times he thought he remembered her touching his cheek. But it had been so long ago and such a brief caress. Yet this woman, this mortal from the mundane world, had not just touched him willingly. She had accepted his caress in return; she had shivered beneath his lips.

The touch of a woman . . . such a small, ordinary thing, really. Mortals and gods alike thought little of it. They touched on greeting and on parting. They touched as they laughed and talked. They touched when they loved. Yes, such a small, ordinary thing . . . unless it had been a thing denied. How he had longed for the kindness of a woman's touch to soothe the beast within and without.

Mikado's touch had undone him.

His moan of frustration changed to a rumbling growl as he propelled himself from his sleeping pallet. She had called him Asterius and said she believed in the man within the monster. Then she had allowed him to kiss her! Surely she meant nothing more than kindness. She couldn't realize that her touch and her words were seducing the man as well as calling the beast to her. His hooves cut into the marble floor of his lair as he paced. She couldn't know how desperately he had wanted to kneel at her feet and beg her never to stop touching him . . . thinking of him . . . talking to him as if she truly did believe in his humanity.