Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(43)

"She's a goddess," Pamela whispered to Phoebus.

"She is indeed," he murmured, glad that Pamela was so transfixed by the performance that she hadn't glanced up to register the shock on his face. He sat very still, trying to school his expression into a mask of polite appreciation for the show his sister was putting on.

And he'd known it! The entire performance had felt snared in an Olympian web of eroticism. Now he understood clearly why - the modern mortals were being honored by the presence of the Huntress Goddess herself. Though she usually preferred her forest and her freedom, the rumor that had been proliferated by her independent ways was false. Artemis was no virgin goddess. She was, whenever she chose to be, an exquisite temptress. What she was up to tonight was obvious. She wanted to be certain that he fulfilled the invocation, so with her immortal kiss of power, she had generously blessed the mortal actors - their allure had been heightened, as had the sexual tension in the audience. He had to admit, it was clever of her - annoying, but clever.

Suddenly, the audience gasped once more as a small, muscular shape ran onto the stage. Apollo's eyes widened in surprise. A satyr! Though his cloven hooves were camouflaged by boots and the magic of the goddess, and the fur that covered his legs not visible beneath the silken pants he wore, his identity was obvious to Apollo. The top of the creature's blond head came no higher than Artemis' waist, but his bare chest and arms were so powerfully muscled that as he raised his arms to beckon the goddess to him, it appeared that he was one of the Titans. The satyr wound his arms in the end of the scarlet scarf, and he, too, was lifted into the air over the stage - and there commenced an erotic chase, which took place not just over the stage, but the two swung out and over the raptly watching audience, where the fey creature enticed and coaxed, stroked and seduced, until finally the goddess deigned to be "captured," and the two of them were gently lowered to the stage. Shocked, Apollo watched his sister allow the woodland creature to wrap her within his arms, and the Huntress melted into the satyr's kiss in a public display of sexuality he knew she would never allow had they been in Olympus. The two exquisite immortals exited, arms still around each other. The audience was totally silent. All eyes were still staring at the spot on the stage where the goddess had last been seen. Apollo was the first to break his sister's seductive spell, and his applause was soon joined by riotous shouts and cheers.

The house lights came up, but before the audience could begin to get to their feet, the cast of actors, led by Artemis herself, came back onstage. The Huntress Goddess addressed the audience.

"We greet you, lovers and friends, and hope that you have enjoyed our little offering to the shrine of love." Her voice was like honey, and it drew the mortals close in a sweet trail of words. "Before you depart, I would like to meet some of you - if you would be so kind."

Clarion bells rang a warning in Apollo's mind, but excitement soughed through the listening crowd like wind through a forest of trees.

The goddess smiled beatifically, as if she addressed crowds of modern mortals every day. Then she began speaking to them, asking them their names, choosing blushing young married couples and newlyweds, sprinkling the magic of her seductive voice throughout the theater. Just once, Artemis glanced up at the balcony where Apollo sat with Pamela close to his side. She met her brother's eyes only briefly, but it was long enough for Apollo to clearly see amusement flash within their cool blue depths. Almost imperceptively, she made a motion with her hand, and Apollo felt the warm shower of her magic rain on him. It tingled over his skin, causing his body to feel flushed and heavy. Pamela's reaction was much more elemental. Almost unconsciously, her hand gripped Apollo's thigh. She leaned into his body and looked up into his eyes. Her breathing deepened, and her lips parted with a moan that was an open invitation.

Apollo cursed silently under his breath, tightened his arm around Pamela, and forced his attention back to the stage. He couldn't kiss her. Under the spell of his sister's immoral magic, neither of them would be able to stop there. It will pass, he reminded himself, and even as the thought came to him, he felt the grip of Artemis' meddling magic loosen. He glared down at his sister, who was neatly ignoring him. Within the circle of his arm he felt Pamela shiver and knew that the glittering spell had begun blowing from her skin, too, and he breathed easier. He was not using his powers to seduce Pamela - he wanted her response to him to be honest. Artemis' foolery was no more welcome than his own magic. Neither brought about love, only lust - a temporary desire, which was too easily sated. He wanted more.

"Oh, look," Pamela said, pointing down at the stage and trying to get her breathing to return to normal. She must be hornier than she thought because this show was driving her completely crazy. Just minutes before if Phoebus had so much as smiled at her, she would have straddled him right there. V had obviously been right; going without sex for too long made a girl lose her mind. "That couple just said that they're here for their fiftieth wedding anniversary."

"Fifty years!" the lovely Artemis repeated, and the crowd clapped politely. One of the actors rushed over to the goddess and whispered in her ear. Artemis smiled, nodded and addressed the old couple again. "Would you come up on stage and close our little performance with a special dance for just the two of you?"

Apollo leaned forward to get a better view as an elderly couple rose slowly to their feet, and with a smattering of encouraging applause, they walked up the stairs to the stage. The lights dimmed, and a soft waltz began to play. At first the couple moved awkwardly together, before eventually falling into a rhythm that was fluid and familiar. The silver-haired man turned his wife, catching the end of her long, cloaklike dress, and the audience let out their breath in surprise as she twirled, and her dress unwound until she was standing onstage in only a dancer's body leotard and a flowing, wraparound skirt. She curtsied to the theater like a lovely ballerina, and then she and her husband resumed their waltz. This time they moved with the grace of professional dancers. Effortlessly, the old man lifted her still-vibrant body to his shoulder, then turned, dipped, and with a flourish she spun down into his arms once more. The dance ended as they kissed in the middle of the stage.