Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(98)

"Would you do it tonight? Now?" she asked.

Asterius opened his eyes and studied her. "Yes," he said slowly. "I will paint your portrait tonight."

Mikki watched as he left their bed and began gathering bowls and brushes from niches that had been carved into the walls of the cave and lighting more torches until the bedroom was alive with warmth and light. He hadn't bothered to get dressed beyond the linen wrap he'd slung haphazardly around his hips. She was struck again by the raw power and untamed beauty of his body. He was beast, man, and god, all mixed together to form a miracle, and there was only one thing she wanted more than to spend her life by his side.

When he had readied the paints and had a brush in his hand, she sat up and smiled at him. "Okay, how do you want me to pose?"

He walked over to the sleeping pallet and gently pressed her back so she was lying on her side as she had been when he'd been beside her. He spread her hair out around her so it made a copper veil on the cream-colored pelt. He positioned her hands so one was draped over her head and the other lay, palm down, on the pallet next to her, as if she had just caressed him. Then he pulled the blanket that had been covering her from her waist down off her, leaving her naked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

His lips tilted up. "Are you cold?"

"If I am, will you warm me up?"

His laugh rumbled between them. "When I am finished. For right now, just lie still and close your eyes." He went back to the clay pots and brushes.

"Do I have to close my eyes? I'd rather watch you."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "It will forever be a surprise to me that you enjoy looking at me."

"I like to do more than look." She smiled seductively.

"Do not move," he chided, but his smile was clearly indulgent.

He began painting, working with bold, fast strokes, which he painted right over the top of the Tulsa Rose Garden scene, causing the garden to be cast in the background, as if he was superimposing one view of reality over another.

"Can I talk to you while you do that, or do you need to concentrate?" Mikki whispered, a little awed by the beautiful, glistening version of her that was taking form.

"You may talk. I may not answer, though. Sometimes I forget where I am when I paint."

"In my old world they call that The Zone. I read an article on it once. It happens to artists and authors and athletes. Something about brain endorphins. It's supposed to mean you're doing something right if you can find The Zone."

Asterius grunted.

"Do you always get in The Zone when you paint?" she asked.

"Yes. Usually." He squinted as he studied her and then turned back to the cave wall and drew the long, curving line of her waist, hip and leg.

She watched him paint and thought about his talent and the beauty he seemed to so easily create, even though he had, for centuries, been an outcast. Please, Gii, keep your word. Then she pulled her mind from the handmaiden's promise, afraid Asterius would study her face too closely and be able to read her melancholy thoughts.

She needed to think of him instead. As he was then - as he had been earlier - passionate, tender, loving and full of surprises like the exquisite paintings he could produce. Which reminded her . . .

"Asterius, who is the woman you drew on the wall of the front room?"

His hand stilled mid-stroke. Without looking at her he said, "It is Pasiphea, my mother."

"I thought so," she said. And she had. Asterius wasn't adding her picture to his wall as he would a trophy. He wouldn't do that - he wouldn't even think that way. "She's very beautiful."

"That is how I remember her."

Mikki wanted to ask him to please remember her as beautiful, too. To please forget her faults and the pain of their parting after she was gone. To just remember how much they loved. But she knew she couldn't. All she could do was to hope that when the time came he would forgive her for being mortal. Mikki closed her eyes, afraid if she kept looking at him she would blurt out what she was thinking - admit everything and beg him to help her find another way out of this mess.

Somehow, Mikki slept. She only knew it because the next time she opened her eyes the room was much dimmer and Asterius was sleeping beside her. She lay there for a few moments, listening to him take deep, regular breaths. Then, tentatively, she eased up from their bed. Quietly, she wrapped herself in a length of chiton she'd discarded earlier. She didn't look at the wall until she had the material fastened at her shoulder. Then she stared, pressing her hand to her mouth to stop her gasp. He had made her look like a goddess! Her painted image was sleeping, with a slight upturn to her lips, as if she had been having a lovely dream. Her skin looked touchable, her body lush and inviting. And he hadn't painted her lying on his pallet. He'd painted her sleeping on a bed of rose petals - specifically, Mikado rose petals.

She turned back to the bed and looked at him, wishing she could wake him up and make love to him. But she couldn't take the chance. She had to check on the roses. If my instincts are wrong, she promised herself, I'll come back and wake him up and make love to him all morning. Without looking at him again, Mikki padded on bare, silent feet from the room.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but the eastern sky was starting to turn from night's black to a gray that would soon welcome dawn. The grass was cold and damp under her bare feet as she followed the path around the base of the cliff to the stairs that would lead her up past the hot springs baths, around to her balcony, and then down into the heart of the gardens. Mikki didn't allow her mind to wander. She hurried up the stairs, barely glancing at the steaming baths, not wanting to remember how wonderful it had been to soak there in the company of her handmaidens and how much she had been looking forward to doing so again. Her balcony was empty, as was her room, but she could see a welcoming fire burning in the hearth and a candelabrum tree still lit beside her bed. She bit her lip and turned away from the homey sight.