Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(33)

Suddenly Mikki was aware of a multitude of voices cheering in celebration. She looked beyond the circle to see what must be hundreds of women, young and old. They crowded the gardens around the temple and were all clapping and waving her way.

The watching crowd began to hum a wordless melody, and soon the seductive beat of drums joined the voices. Then the gathering of women danced, barefoot and exuberant, in the torch-lit garden of the goddess.

Intrigued, Mikki watched them frolic. In the shadowy gardens, they looked like beautiful night flowers waving in the breeze. Briefly, she wondered at why there were no men present, but the thought was fleeting and Gii's voice chased it completely from her mind.

"Close the sacred circle, Empousa, and we will join the people's celebration!" Gii said.

Before she had to ask, Aeras's soft voice lifted above the noise of the crowd like a warm summer breeze. "Walk in reverse order around the circle. Touch each of us in turn, and visualize the web of light fading away."

Smiling her appreciation, Mikki retraced her steps, lightly brushing her hand over each woman's head as she sank into a curtsey at the approach of the Empousa. She watched the woven thread of light unravel, and eventually, as she returned to her place in the center of the circle, it disappeared completely, leaving only the goddess's flame to burn a bright, but ordinary yellow.

Then Gii took one of her hands and Aeras another, and flanked by Earth and Wind, the newly christened Empousa was led to her people and the celebration that awaited its priestess.

The Guardian watched from beneath an ancient oak. The lighting of Hecate's temple had drawn him. When it blazed again in the heart of the realm, he had been pulled to it unerringly, even though his body was wracked with the pain of newly awakened muscle and sinew. He had wanted to kneel beside the flame - to again beg the goddess's forgiveness and to ask that he be allowed to resume all the duties that had been his before he had broken faith with Hecate. But before he could move, the night breeze shifted and brought her scent to him. His nostrils had flared and his bronze skin quivered.

The priestess approached.

He knew it was she by her scent - spices and roses distilled by the heat of her soft skin. He recognized it because he drank the fragrance of her in his dreams, and, waking, he had touched that skin when he held her in his arms as the power of the goddess transported them to Hecate's realm. He closed his eyes and leaned against the tree. He had frightened her then, though he had not meant to. His awakening had been abrupt, and the beast within him that seemed at constant war with his humanity had been too strong, too eager to capture and possess. Remembering, his body shuddered and his heart ached.

He should go, retreat to his lair and prepare himself for tomorrow. He had long been absent from the Realm of the Rose, and he could already tell that all was not as it should be. He must be diligent - focused - he must resume guardianship of the realm as was his duty; and, if the goddess was merciful, he would also be allowed to use all his magickal gifts again.

But he stayed.

When his keen hearing detected the light tread of her feet, he spoke a command in a language long dead, and the lanterns that hung from the massive tree's limbs instantly extinguished, wrapping him in shadow. Under the thick ridge of his brow, his expressive eyes opened in time to see Floga rush into the temple. He paid little heed to the Fire spirit though, or to any of the other handmaidens. Like a bewitching Siren, she commanded his attention.

He watched her.

Her awkwardness was obvious to him, as he was certain it was to the handmaidens, too. They were accustomed to an Empousa who moved with practiced confidence, who knew each ritual of the goddess so well she could perform them as if it was as natural to her as breath and heartbeat.

This woman was different.

The handmaidens had to prompt her on how to cast the sacred circle. He saw her overcome her initial hesitation as she moved from element to element, calling Wind, Flame, Water, Earth, and Spirit alive again within the goddess's temple. Despite her inexperience, her power was evident in the tightly woven thread that bound the circle together.

She danced.

His breath went thick. A low growl rumbled almost inaudibly in his throat. Lust surged, hot and insistent through his body in time with the beat of his heart. His inhumanly keen eyesight became blessing and curse. Because of it he could see the sweat-slickened flush of her naked skin as she moved in a seductive dance around the circle. The nipple of her exposed breast was tightly puckered, elemental and alluring. He turned his massive head away from the tempting sight, pressing his forehead into the rough skin of the oak until the tips of his ebony horns rested against the tree. The betraying breeze flirted around him, once again bringing him the scent of her - woman and roses, oil and spice, now heightened by the heat and sweat of her. He snarled a curse, damning his preternatural senses.

Goddess help him, the longing was still there.

Why? He raised his hands. They became claws as razor-edged talons dug into the thick bark of the tree. Why hadn't his long imprisonment cured him of this terrible, futile desire?

He heard Hecate's voice commanding the new Empousa to bind herself to the goddess with ritualistic words.

"Love and trust . . ."

She spoke the words, and the night took them and carried them to him so he felt the power of her oath fold over his skin.

Why had she chosen those two words? For countless generations, Hecate's Empousa had always chosen words such as knowledge . . . power . . . beauty . . . strength . . . success . . . to bind herself to the goddess. Yet to complete the self-initiation ritual, this Empousa had chosen love and trust.