How to Worship a Goddess

by Stephanie Julian

  “I’ll go get Dane.”

  Dane. Yes, the Lucani doctor. “Go. Get him now. Hurry.”

  Catene called her wolf in a furious blaze of magic that tugged at Lucy’s power. Catene’s clothes disintegrated around her as she transformed her body. In seconds, the wolf had replaced the girl and she tore back down the path toward the village.

  Damn it. Godsdamnit, this shouldn’t be happening.

  Fear like she hadn’t felt in centuries grabbed her lungs in both hands and squeezed like a vise. Her hands, slippery with sweat, clenched into fists at her sides. She hated feeling so helpless. It made frustration pound through her body. What the hell had happened?

  “Whoa, what the he— What am I doing on the— Oh shit.”

  Sal leaped to his hooves, wobbled a bit, then fell against Lucy’s hip before he grabbed for the altar to steady himself.

  “I don’t know what to do, Sal. He’s not moving and I can’t remove the knife—”

  “Hell no, don’t take out the blade. Son-of-a-bitch.” Sal’s voice had dropped to a dangerous growl and he hopped back onto the rock he’d been standing on for the ritual. “We broke the fucking spell concealing his powers. Someone—”

  “Explanations later, Sal. We have to get the knife out of his chest. I won’t lose him. Not like this. Catene went for Dane but I don’t think… We need to take out the knife…”

  “No. The knife stays. If we pull it out, we may damage him further. Amity.” Sal stepped away from the table. “I’ll get Amity.”

  Sal disappeared without another word, leaving Lucy alone in the dark and the cold with Brandon.

  He continued to breathe, but just barely.

  “Hold on, sweetheart. You have to hold on. I won’t lose you. Not now.”

  She forced herself to speak calmly, as if he could hear her. Inside, she raged at her own arrogance and her failings.

  At one time she would’ve had the power to help him. Even though she was a moon goddess and not a healer, she would’ve had the strength to hold him here until help arrived.

  Now, even though she felt the power of the moon drawing her, calling to her, she couldn’t harness enough of it to fix him.

  Useless. She was useless and obsolete and—

  No, you know what? Fuck that. Heated anger roiled in her gut. Fuck the thought that she was helpless. She was still a goddess. There had to be something she could do. But what?

  “Lucy.”

  Brandon’s eyes flickered open as he whispered her name.

  “Brandon.” She infused her voice with a calm she didn’t feel. “Don’t move. Please.”

  “Wha…” He turned his head to look at her, the dullness of his eyes visible even in the dark. “Well, no shit. Sal stuck me.”

  “Shh.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his forehead. She refused to let the feel of his cold skin against hers shake her faith that he would survive. “I forbid you to move.”

  “I like it when you order me around.” His mouth curved and she let herself fall into that smile. “Guess we got a problem, huh?”

  “You’re going to be fine, sweetheart.” She refused to think anything else. She said it so it would be true. “Just don’t move.”

  He tried to laugh. “Guess I’m not the man you need me to be, huh?”

  “Brandon, you’re more of a man than most gods.”

  He snorted, then winced in pain. “But gods don’t die from a little knife wound.”

  “You’re not dying. I won’t let you.”

  “And there’s the Lucy I know and love. There now, let me see what’s going on.”

  Lucy nearly collapsed in relief as her sister goddess Amity bustled over to the altar, Sal directly behind her.

  “Amity, please…”

  “Oh, now, don’t sound so worried. It’s not as dire as all that, is it?” Amity flashed a bright smile. “Let me see.”

  Lucy reluctantly drew away from the altar so Amity could see.

  Just the sight of her sister goddess’s short, rounded little body was almost enough to make Lucy’s spirits lift.

  As Munthukh, the Etruscan Goddess of Health, Amity knew the secrets of the human body. At the height of their reign, she could cure cancer or heal deadly injuries with the wave of a hand.

  But like all of the Forgotten Goddesses, she’d faded. Today, she channeled her remaining powers into her work as a medical aesthetician at the local hospital, helping accident victims deal with crippling disfigurement and cancer victims with the loss of limbs, hair, and breasts.

  “Oh dear, that is a problem, isn’t it?” Amity patted Brandon on the shoulder, his eyes barely slits at the moment as he watched her. “But don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll have you fixed up in no time. I’m Amity, by the way. And you are…?”

  “Brandon Stevenson. Nice to—”

  He broke off, as if unable to draw in enough air to finish, and Lucy’s heart seized in her chest.

  “And it’s very nice to meet you too. I understand you’re a hockey player. I very much enjoy hockey…”

  Lucy listened to Amity hold a one-way conversation as she stood next to Brandon, her hands on his shoulders.

  Amity’s voice worked not only on Brandon. Lucy felt a cool serenity pass through her as well. She wanted to scream at Amity. Why would she not shut up and just heal him?

  She was about to open her mouth when Sal grabbed her hand and squeezed. Hard. A warning, but why—oh. Amity was working.

  Lucy looked at Amity’s hands, glowing white against Brandon’s pale skin. She’d placed her hands on either side of the blade. Still, she couldn’t let herself hope. It would hurt too badly…

  “No, Lucy.” Amity’s voice curled around her heart, loosening the dread. “I need you here with me. And so does Brandon. Put your hand over mine. Yes. See, he’s getting better already.”

  Amity’s voice had lowered to a croon, as if she were speaking to a frightened child. Though she knew she should be spitting mad at being treated like that, Lucy couldn’t help but notice it was working.

  Her heart rate began to level off, the weight on her chest eased, and her muscles loosened to the point where she could move without feeling like she would break.

  “I think that’ll do it. Sal, let’s get that knife out now.” Amity’s voice cut off her thoughts and Lucy drew in a sharp gasp as Sal nodded and drew the blade out cleanly.

  No blood. Not on the knife or Brandon’s chest. Lucy turned to ask Amity what had happened and was just in time to catch the other goddess before she fell to the ground.

  “Amity!”

  The other woman drew in a shuddering breath, her body continuing to shake. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to scare you. He’ll be fine. Tell Dane…” Her dark eyes closed for a second and Lucy feared Amity had done too much. “Tell Dane to keep him calm and quiet for several hours and then he’ll be as good as new.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Amity’s smile was brief but visible. “I’ll be fine. Just need… a few minutes to rest.”

  Then her eyes closed and her body went limp.

  Lucy felt tears well as the voices drew nearer, and bright beams of light slashed through the forest. Flashlights.

  So much harsher than her beloved moonlight.

  “Lady, let me have Amity.”

  Tinia’s teat, this was all her fault. She should’ve told Brandon no. Should’ve put a stop to this before she nearly killed him and possibly injured Amity irreparably.

  “Lucy, come on,” Sal said. “Dane and Cat will be here in seconds and you don’t want them to see you on the ground like this. Get up.”

  No, it wouldn’t do to have her wolves see her like this, would it? Defeated. Even if it were true.

  All her fault.

  “Now, Luce, if you wanna blame anyone, blame me.” Sal had taken Amity from her arms and held the other goddess against his sturdy body. “But do it later because they’re here.”

  Turning, she saw Catene fly up the path, dressed in
sweats and running sneakers. The lucani doctor, Dane, followed right behind her, as did three or four others. She lost count because Dane began to ask questions.

  The next few minutes swirled into a haze of demands and shouted orders as Dane examined Brandon and prepared him to be moved back to the den.

  Someone had had the foresight to bring a stretcher and Lucy watched carefully as four lucani transferred him to it.

  “Mom.” Ty suddenly stood beside her, his hand on her elbow. She didn’t know if he’d been there the entire time or if he’d just shown up. How could she not have known?

  “Mom, let’s go. Dane said Brandon’s going to be fine but he wants to get him out of the cold air.”

  She stared up at Ty’s beloved face. “Is Catene okay?”

  A brief flash of fear in his eyes made her tense but it disappeared almost immediately. “Yeah, she’s fine. But she’s worried about you. And so am I. Don’t make me carry you back.”

  No, that wouldn’t do, would it? She had to be strong. Especially for what she knew she had to do when Brandon woke.

  She straightened her back and forced every last shred of emotion into a tiny little box in her chest. “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter 8

  Brand came awake slowly, fighting through sludgy black unconsciousness.

  He had the sense that his entire body should be one painful ache.

  Which it wasn’t. Actually, he felt pretty damn good. And that probably meant only one thing. Whatever Sal had tried, it hadn’t worked.

  All successful ventures required a little pain, right? He could only assume he’d failed. He tried to open his eyes but they felt like they had weights on them.

  “He’s waking.”

  “Should we get Lucy?”

  A pause. “No. Not yet. Let me make sure he’s really okay before we get her hopes up.”

  Get her hopes up? What the hell?

  He fought against the darkness that wanted to consume him again and felt the warmth of a hand stroking his forehead. Not Lucy. He knew Lucy’s touch.

  “Shh, Brandon. You need to remain calm. Stop struggling against the spell. We want you to stay still. We need to make sure everything’s working properly before we let you get up and move around.”

  He wanted to fight against that voice, a female voice that sounded young. But it wasn’t Cat and it definitely wasn’t Lucy.

  “’z she ’kay?”

  Shit, that sounded like gibberish, even to his thick brain, but apparently whoever was listening to him could understand.

  “Yes, Lucy’s fine. You’ve been out cold for several hours. She finally laid down to get some rest. You wouldn’t want us to wake her, would you?”

  “No, huh uh.”

  He swore he could hear the woman smile. “Of course not. Now just go back to sleep.”

  No, he needed to make a phone call, needed to call… who? Shit, he had obligations—

  Brandon opened his eyes and stared for several minutes at wood beams in a ceiling he didn’t recognize. Good workmanship. Nice joints…

  He must have fallen back to sleep because bright sunlight peeked around the edges of the shade on the one window to the left of the bed. Turning his head, he looked for a clock, though his internal clock told him he was late for practice.

  “Shit.”

  He sat up in bed then froze, waiting for the pain to start. Headache, muscle aches, nausea.

  Nothing.

  He looked down. Naked chest. Lifted the thin sheet covering him from the waist down. Naked everywhere. And erect. Holy hell, he had an erection that wouldn’t quit. So of course, he wanted to know where Lucy was.

  “Well, good morning. We were beginning to worry.”

  A pretty blonde walked into the room, stethoscope around her neck, wearing light blue scrubs and a nurse’s smile. He shoved the sheet down into his lap, hopefully covering his damn unruly cock.

  The woman pretended not to notice what he was doing as she reached for his wrist and he held it out automatically for her to take his pulse. He opened his mouth but she beat him to it.

  “Before you ask,” she slipped her stethoscope from around her neck and stuck it against his chest, “Lucy’s in the next room. She’s still sleeping. Whatever you guys did last night, you did it up good. You’re nearly healed though, and Amity and Dane said you’ll be fine after you’re rested.”

  “I’ve got a game Thursday.” The response was automatic. And true.

  The nurse smiled. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’ll be playing. The doctor will be in to talk to you soon. Just lie back and relax. I’ll make sure Lucy knows you’re awake. I’m Tam, by the way.”

  “Brandon.”

  Her smile widened. “Yes, I know who you are. Hell, everyone in the den knows who you are.”

  With her hand on his shoulder pressing him back into the bed, he lay back, wondering if that was good or bad. He meant to ask until he felt Tam’s fingers exploring the faint scar on his chest.

  “Damn. That almost looks like I didn’t have a knife shoved through my heart.”

  Tam’s eyes narrowed down into slits. “Do you remember what happened? I’m not trying to pry. In fact, I’m not asking for details. I’m only asking if you can recall what happened or do you feel like there’re pieces missing from your memory?”

  What the hell did he remember from last night? He remembered the altar and he remembered a big-ass knife. He remembered Sal lifting that knife and—

  He sucked in a deep breath and looked down at his chest. “I remember Sal shoving a knife through my chest. After that, I’m blank.”

  “Then I guess you can rest easy because that’s exactly what happened.”

  He took a deep breath… and swore he caught Lucy’s scent. Damn, his sense of smell had always been better than anyone else he knew, which made the locker room after a game a hellhole for him, but it’d never been that good.

  Maybe Lucy was coming toward him.

  “Brandon? Are you okay?”

  As a matter of fact, the more he concentrated, the more he realized there was a different level of scent.

  And his eyesight… Everything looked clearer. And brighter.

  He blinked. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “And nothing hurts?”

  He gave that one some thought. “No…”

  “Then I’d say you were pretty luck—”

  “I think you’d better get out of here.”

  Tam’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Brandon, what—”

  He’d been truthful when he said nothing hurt. What he felt wasn’t painful. But he knew exactly what he was feeling even though he hadn’t felt it in years.

  “Go. Leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What’s wro—”

  “Get out!”

  The words came out as a roar and Tam made for the door. Backwards. Never taking her eyes off of him. Probably a smart move on her part because if she’d looked away, he may have leaped for her. As she shut the door to the room, the lock clicking into place made the rage boiling in his gut intensify.

  Where the hell it came from, he had no idea. He only knew what it was because he remembered the feeling from when he’d been a kid.

  That frightening sense of losing control combined with the heat of fury.

  Something had happened last night, something that threatened to turn him into a ravening beast. Control. He needed to find some before he tore this room apart. But the rage bubbled and burned.

  Go ahead. Tear it up. They did this to you. They made you like this.

  No, they hadn’t made him like this. This was him and yet, somehow, he’d managed to keep it contained. Now, this feeling had a way out and it wanted to take it.

  He tried to contain it, tried to shove it back in that little metaphysical box he’d always known was there but could ignore before. Now he couldn’t find the right combination to lock the box.

  He shoved himself off the bed and landed on the floor, planting his
feet on the cold wood planks and trying to let that coolness seep into him. Didn’t work. He wanted to rip something apart with his hands. Wanted to—he caught her scent again and he knew what he wanted. He wanted her. She was his and he had to have her.

  He lunged for the door and yanked but it stood against him. Muscles straining as he pulled the handle, he fought to open it but it wouldn’t.

  That roar… that sound that wasn’t his and yet had come from his body.

  Jesus, that was freaky. What—

  He banged on the door and watched his claws rake deep furrows into the wood.

  His claws…

  What the fuck.

  He held his hands out in front of him, staring at the claws that’d sprung from his nails. Fucking claws. Long, lethal-looking. Sharp as hell and bone white.

  “Brandon.”

  Her voice through the door. His woman’s voice. He wanted to sink those claws into her—

  “Brandon, are you okay?”

  Fuck, no. “No, I’m not safe. Stay out, Lucy.”

  “What’s going on? Tell me.”

  What the hell did he say? Hey, I got these pretty, new, deadly weapons attached to my hands. Come in and let’s play.

  God, she smelled amazing. He wanted to push his nose into her neck and draw in her scent. He wanted to put his mouth on her neck and lick her skin. And then tear into her.

  “You’ve got to stay away from me, Lucy. Just stay out there.”

  “Brandon. I’m going to open the door. Step away, okay?”

  “No. You can’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t. I know you won’t. Brandon, I’m going to open the door.”

  It hit him then. The sound of her voice acted like a stream of ice directed at that fury in his blood. He latched onto that feeling, struggled to contain the heat and the anger.

  The door cracked open, just a few inches. Enough to let him get a bigger taste of her smell.

  Then Lucy began to slip through the crack and he knew, in that split second, that he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

  He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her all the way into the room. She gasped and the sound hit him like a sucker punch deep in his libido. The growl that erupted from his throat scared the shit out of him. He sounded like an animal. Hell, he felt like an animal. One that couldn’t control his urges.