Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(37)

Mikki couldn't breathe. She couldn't make her vocal cords work. She could only stare at the creature. Then he sighed, and it was in that lonely, wordless sound that she heard the echo of a familiar roar. That one small thing pushed through her panic, allowing her to draw a gasping breath.

"I did not come to you tonight to harm you. You have my oath that you are in no danger."

Her lips felt cold and numb, but she forced herself to speak. "You're the statue. The one from the rose gardens."

He nodded his massive head. "Yes, you have known me only as I was in your world, entombed in marble amidst the roses. Now that I have awakened, I have resumed my rightful position as Guardian of the Realm of the Rose."

Mikki brushed a shaking hand across her forehead, trying to clear her mind.

The creature took a step closer to her, his hooves thudding inhumanly against the silent balcony.

"No!" she blurted, blood pounding in her ears. "Stay away!"

As if to show that he meant no harm, he raised one huge hand toward her, palm up. Except for its size it appeared normal, but Mikki was sure she caught a flash of the candlelight glinting off something sharp and deadly. She stared at his hand without blinking.

He closed the hand and let it fall to his side, where it was enveloped in shadow. "I was only concerned that you might faint."

"I'm fine," she said automatically, but she did pick her way carefully among the pieces of broken glass, righted her chair and sank into it before her legs gave way. "I don't faint." She forced herself to sound as normal as possible. He said he wouldn't hurt her. Hecate said he wouldn't hurt her. And, anyway, if he was going to attack her, it would do no damn good for her to hyperventilate and freak out. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. "Really, I'm fine," she repeated, more for her own assurance than his.

"You should eat," he said. "It will strengthen you."

She just stared at him. How the hell was she supposed to eat with him standing there?

She was surprised to easily recognize comprehension on a face that was so alien. And at the same time she recognized something else, something that clouded his powerful voice like fog. Sadness . . .

Did he really sound sad, or was she just imagining it?

"I should leave you to your meal. First allow me to . . ." He broke off and spoke a sharp, unintelligible command. He held out one large hand, and instantly a crystal goblet, identical to the one she had broken, appeared in midair. His hand closed around it.

A noise, somewhere between a sob and a scream, squeaked from Mikki's lips.

"Did you not desire another glass?" he asked.

Mikki could only nod. Her swarming thoughts semi-hysterically said that what she really wanted was a valium to go with the wine.

He was watching her closely, and she thought his expression might have softened, but his face was so fierce that it was hard to tell. "May I bring this glass to you?"

She hesitated and then nodded again with a quick, slight movement.

Slowly, he stalked forward with an athletic grace that was as powerful as it was feral. His ebony hooves echoing against marble sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the balcony. Mikki couldn't look away from him. As he moved closer to her, she couldn't help pushing herself against the back of her chair, where she sat rigid and unmoving. Her heart was pounding hot and loud in her ears, and for a moment, she thought she might make a liar out of herself and actually faint.

Would he catch her if she did? The thought of him touching her shivered through her body.

When he reached the broken glass he made a dismissive gesture with one hand and muttered a word under his breath.

The shards instantly obeyed him, blowing off the balcony in a tiny crystal tornado.

Then he stood beside the table. This close the light from the candelabrum flickered over him, illuminating the hard, inhumanly muscular lines of his body. He kept very still, allowing her time to study him and to become accustomed to his nearness.

The statue in the park had not been clothed, but the living Guardian was. He wore a black leather breastplate over a short tunic. The outfit reminded her of something Russell Crowe would have worn in Gladiator , except had the two stood side by side, the Guardian would have made the Aussie actor look like a boy in dress-up clothes.

The creature was huge. He had to stand almost seven feet tall. His hair was the unrelenting black of a new moon night. It fell thickly around his massive shoulders. Two dark horns protruded from his head. They curled forward and tapered to dangerous-looking points. His face . . . Mikki's breath caught in her throat. The face of the statue had been roughly hewn and indistinct, but the living Guardian was no unfinished rock; he was powerfully masculine, with a thick brow; high, distinct cheekbones and a square jaw. Taken by itself, his face reminded her of ancient images she'd seen stamped on foreign coins or carved into statues of warriors long dead, but mix his classic features with the horns and the sharp glint of a carnivore's teeth, and it was obvious that the man did not completely dominate the beast that lay so close to the surface.

His breastplate and tunic left quite a bit of his muscular body bare. The skin that covered his torso was dark and looked like living bronze in the candlelight. She let her eyes travel down his body. She knew what she would see, yet still she sucked in a shocked breath at the reality of it. His thick legs were covered in dark fur. Instead of feet, the flickering light glinted off cloven hooves.