Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(39)

Slowly, not taking his eyes from hers, he moved closer to her and lifted his hand so his fingertips brushed lightly over her cheek. "You broke the spell that entombed me. For that I will eternally owe you a debt of gratitude."

The heat of his brief caress made her shiver, and he quickly dropped his hand and stepped back.

"But why me?" Her voice was rough, as equal parts of fear and fascination struggled within her. "How could I have broken a spell I didn't know anything about?"

"You carry the blood of Hecate's priestess within you. None other could have broken the spell and awakened me."

"I awakened you . . ." Mikki repeated. "And I'm here because you needed a spell lifted from you."

"No, Empousa," the Guardian said firmly. His words were stone, and the power that he had been keeping in check roiled between them once more. "You are not here for me. You are here for the roses."

Inadvertently, she cringed away from the force of his voice, once again fearful of the monstrous creature who stood before her.

The Guardian sighed wearily. When he spoke, he had tamed his voice so it was no longer overpowering.

"I will leave you to finish your meal in peace. If you have need of anything, simply call and your handmaidens will attend you. I bid you good night." He bowed neatly to her, turned and blended back into the shadows from which he had emerged.

When she was sure he was gone, she unclenched her hands and wiped them across her face.

Breathe. Be calm. Breathe. Be calm. She let the words sink from her mind into her body. Instead of reaching for the wineglass, she began to methodically eat meat and cheese. She needed to be able to think clearly. Food made her feel more normal, so she ate and let the simple act of refueling her body rejuvenate her mind. She didn't take another drink or think more about the impossible conversation she had just had until the edge of her hunger was gone and the woozy feeling in her head had cleared.

Mikki slowed her eating and sipped the wine. The food worked exactly as he had told her it would. She was full, and she felt normal again - if she could use the word normal to refer to anything she was experiencing in this fantasy world.

The creature . . . how could anything so terrible and powerful walk and speak like a man? As a statue she had always thought of him as more man than beast, but seeing him alive - hearing him speak - had made her understand all too well that he was not, could not, be only a man.

You are not here for me. You are here for the roses. The words seemed to echo on the empty balcony, accusing and mocking her. She remembered the sadness that had shadowed his face. Did beasts feel sadness? Would a beast think to have a sumptuous table set for a woman and then float a rosebud in her wine? Could a beast enter a woman's dreams and fantasies? And why would a beast touch her face with such gentleness?

He was not, could not, be only a beast, either.

Mikki tried to wrap her mind around the things he had said. He wasn't a dream. He wasn't a hallucination. He was all too real.

You are here for the roses. He had told her that, and so had Hecate. But what did it mean?

"Tomorrow," she said aloud. "Tomorrow I'll find out."

She drank the last of the wine and then with a groan of protest at her stiff muscles, she dragged herself from the balcony and into her bedroom. While she had been busy circle casting and conversing with a living statue, someone had blown out the chandeliers and all but one candelabrum. The fire was banked, but the room was pleasantly warm after the coolness of the night. The thick bed linens were pulled back in preparation for her and a nightgown, a twin of the one she had been wearing earlier, lay across the foot of the bed.

Before she changed into it, Mikki nervously closed the doors to the balcony and drew the thick velvet drapes. Then she hastily peeled off her scanty ritual dress and gratefully slid on the soft nightgown. As she curled up in the middle of the opulent down comforters she thought about how much she'd like a warm soak in a bath. Man, her body was stiff. She sighed. She could tell she'd be sore as hell tomorrow. Her eyelids felt weighted. It was impossible to keep them open.

Her final thought before she slipped into sleep was to wonder if he would visit her dreams that night . . .

The Guardian paced back and forth across his lair's sleeping chamber. He should be pleased. He should be celebrating his release. At last, after all those silent, frozen years, he lived and breathed again. And she was here. It mattered little that she was inexperienced or that she was from the mundane world where he had been entombed for so many centuries. She had Hecate's blessing. Mikado was the new Empousa. The Realm of the Rose would, once more, be set aright.

He remembered the fear in her eyes when he had stepped from the shadows, but he had watched as that fear had changed, as it had become tempered with fascination, even while his power had intimidated her. He knew what she was feeling. It was fascination for her that had awakened him. He had known it before, when she had invaded his mind as his consciousness had been trapped within the marble body. He had not wanted to admit it, not even silently to himself. But now that he'd seen her . . . talked with her . . . smelled her living fragrance and touched the warmth of her skin . . . he could not delude himself any longer. His desire for her was like air - it filled him, sustained him, and he only felt truly alive when he breathed her in.

"Why?"

He growled while he paced. A test. That was the only answer for it. Hecate had given him this burden to bear, and by all the immortal Titans he would bear it!