Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(40)

Spring came early to the Realm of the Rose. Surely then the goddess would relieve his agony. Then he could return to the loneliness that had been a comfortable enemy. Until that time he would keep busy with his duties, which, he admonished himself, did not include watching the Empousa eat. It had all been a lie his mutinous desire had rationalized into temporary truth. He hadn't needed to stay and watch, nor had he needed to speak with her. The ritual had made her hungry and thirsty. Her body would have shown her naturally what it needed to be grounded, and even the empty-headed Elementals would have eventually gotten around to explaining such a basic concept to the inexperienced priestess.

He must not delude himself. Staying away from her was the wisest choice. And that would be easy. He didn't need to see her to know when she was near; he knew her scent. His hands curled and he quelled the urge to smash them into the smooth walls of the cave. Her scent would warn him if she was near, as would the sun glinting off the rich copper of her hair. He had touched that hair in his dreams. He had run his hands along the length of her smooth skin, reveling in its softness. And she had touched him in return, stroking his body as if they were lovers. He had seen the memory of that touch reflected clearly in her eyes. He had longed to respond to it, just as he had longed to respond to her body as it had shuddered beneath him in the last dream.

"No!" he roared.

He could not allow it to happen again. He had one chance to right his past wrong. He must not love her. He could not. And this time he would not delude himself into believing that there was any chance she could love him in return, though in reality her feelings mattered little. She was Hecate's Empousa; therefore, she must die.

The Guardian sank down on the thick pallet of furs on which he slept and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to weep, but he felt empty of everything except pain and despair. There were no comforting tears within him.

"Are you sorry that I allowed her to awaken you?"

The Guardian's head snapped up and he beheld his goddess in her full regalia - headdress of stars, cloaked in the veil of night, with her torch blazing in one hand and the other resting on the head of one of her massive hounds. He fell to his knees before her, supplicating himself with his head bowed so low that his horns touched the ground at her feet.

"Great Goddess! I rejoice that I am in your presence once again."

"Arise, Guardian," Hecate said.

"I cannot, Goddess. Not until I beg you to forgive my crime."

"You did not commit a crime. You simply succumbed to the humanity I placed within you. I was mistaken when I punished you so harshly for a weakness that I was ultimately responsible for gifting you."

His shoulders shook with the effort it took for him to maintain control of his turbulent emotions. "Then I beg that you forgive my weakness, Great Goddess."

Hecate bent and touched his bowed head. "I demonstrated that forgiveness when I allowed my new Empousa to awaken you. Now arise, Guardian."

Slowly he stood. "Thank you, Goddess. I will not disappoint you again."

"I know that. We will not speak again of a past which is dead. You have finally returned to me. The realm has felt your absence keenly, as have I."

"I am prepared to resume my full duties, Goddess, if you will grant it so."

"I do." Hecate scooped her hand through the air, gathering invisible power until her hand glowed. Then, with a quick throwing motion, she tossed the brilliant pile of light on him and said, "I hereby return to you dominion over the threads of reality."

The Guardian's head bowed again as the magickal power resettled into his body, filling him with its familiar warmth. When he was able, he met his goddess's gray eyes.

"Thank you, Hecate."

"There is no need to thank me. I return to you what is yours. In all the time you were gone, the handmaids never got the knack of it, not even the Elementals were as adept at turning reality into the threads that bind the garment of mortal dreams as you."

"I am eager to begin again, Goddess," he said.

"I expect no less of you. But tonight I command that you rest. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin."

"Yes, Great Goddess," he said. He bowed his head again, expecting that she would disappear as she normally did in a shower of stars. When she didn't, he glanced up, curious as to her hesitation.

"Goddess?"

"As you know, my Empousa has returned."

Silently, he nodded his head.

"She is . . ." Hecate paused, choosing her words carefully. "She is not like the other Empousa. She is, of course, from the mundane world. This realm is strange and new to her."

"And she is older than the other priestesses," he said. Hecate's quick, knowing gaze made him silently curse himself for speaking at all.

"That is true. It is also true that she is inexperienced in the duties of my High Priestess. Keep a watchful eye on her, Guardian. She has much to learn and very little time in which to learn it. Beltane is not far away."

He bowed his head. "I will do your will, Goddess."

When she glanced up at him, her gray eyes were piercing. "This time I have taken steps to insure that you will not be so easily tempted to err. With the return of your power over the threads of reality, I have given you a" - she paused and her lips tilted up in a humorless smile - "let us call it a special thread of reality of your own. I know your body burned for my Empousa and that she used that desire against you as you sought the impossible. So you will never be tempted to betray yourself for lust again, know that I have made it impossible for you to consummate your desire for a woman unless that woman loves and accepts you for the beast you are, as well as the man who lurks within the creature's skin. Henceforth, you will be safe from your own impossible dreams. Do you understand, Guardian?"