by P. C. Cast
“Thank you,” I said. “Even if it does kinda sound like you’re giving me away to other guys.”
He leaned back, frowned at me, and said, “That’s just bullshit, Z.”
“Well, you just said that it’s cool with you if I’m with—”
“No!” He shook me a little. “I didn’t say I was cool with you being with other guys. I said I wouldn’t let it break up what we have.”
“What do we have?”
“Each other. For always.”
“That’s enough for me, Stark.” I twined my arms around his shoulders. “Would you do something with me?”
“Yep, anything,” he echoed my answer, making both of us smile.
“Kiss me like you did before so that I can’t think.”
“I can handle that,” he said.
Stark’s kiss started out as slow and sweet, but it didn’t stay that way for long. As his kiss deepened, his hands began to explore my body. When he found the bottom edge of my T-shirt he hesitated, and it was during that tiny moment of hesitation that I made my decision. I wanted Stark. I wanted all of him. I pulled away from him so that I could look into his eyes. We were both breathing hard and he automatically leaned toward me, like he couldn’t stand not being pressed against my body.
“Wait.” I put my hand flat against his chest.
“Sorry.” His voice sounded gruff. “I didn’t mean to come on too strong.”
“No, that’s not it. You’re not coming on too strong. I just wanted to … well…” I hesitated, trying to make my mind work through the fog of desire I was feeling for him. “Ah, hell. I’ll show you what I want.” Before I could get shy or embarrassed, I stood up. Stark was watching me with an expression that was curiosity mixed with heat, but when I pulled off my shirt, undid and stepped out of my jeans, the curiosity went away and his eyes seemed to darken with the heat. I lay back down within the safety of his arms, loving the sensation of the roughness of his plaid against the smoothness of my naked skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” Stark said, tracing the pattern of my tattoo that wrapped around my waist. His touch made me tremble. “Are you scared?” he asked, pulling me closer.
“I’m not trembling because I’m scared,” I whispered against his lips between kisses. “I’m trembling because of how much I want you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Totally sure. I love you, Stark.”
“I love you, too, Zoey.”
Stark took me in his arms then, and with his hands and his lips, he blocked out the world, making me think only about him—want only to be with him. His touch banished the ugly memory of Loren, and the mistake I’d made giving myself to him, into the mists of the past. At the same time Stark soothed the hurt inside me left by Heath’s loss. I would always miss Heath, but he had been human, and as Stark made love to me I understood that I would have had to say goodbye to Heath eventually.
Stark was my future—my Warrior—my Guardian—my love.
When Stark unwrapped the MacUallis plaid from around his body and lay naked beside me, he bent and I felt his tongue first against the pulse at my neck, and then a brief, questioning touch of his teeth.
“Yes,” I said, surprised by the breathless, unfamiliar sound of my voice. I shifted my body so that Stark’s lips pressed more firmly against my neck, while I kissed the strong, smooth slope where his shoulder met his biceps. With my own wordless question, I let my teeth graze his skin.
“Oh, goddess, yes! Please, Zoey. Please.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. I nicked his skin at the same moment he bit gently into my neck, and with the warm, sweet taste of his blood my body was filled with our shared feelings. The bond between us was like fire—it burned and consumed, almost painful in its intensity. Almost unbearable in its pleasure. We clung to each other, mouths pressed against skin, body against body. All I could feel was Stark. All I could hear was the pounding of our hearts beating in time together. I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I couldn’t tell which pleasure was mine, and which was his. Afterward while I lay in his arms, our legs twined together, our bodies still slick with sweat, I sent a silent prayer to my Goddess: Nyx, thank you for giving Stark to me. Thank you for letting him love me.
* * *
We didn’t leave the grove for hours. Later I would remember that night as one of the happiest of my life. In the chaos of the future, the memory of being wrapped in Stark’s arms, sharing touches and dreams, and for that moment in time being completely, utterly content, would be something I cherished, like the warm glow of candlelight on the darkest of nights.
Much later we walked slowly back to the castle. Our fingers were threaded together, our sides brushed intimately. We’d just crossed the moat bridge, and I’d been so wrapped up in Stark that I hadn’t even noticed the staked heads. Actually, I hadn’t noticed much of anything until Aphrodite’s voice intruded.
“Oh, for shit’s sake. Could you two be more obvious?”
I lifted my head dreamily from Stark’s shoulder and saw Aphrodite standing in a pool of torchlight at the entrance to the castle, toe tapping in annoyance.
“My beauty, leave them be. They’ve earned their piece of happiness.” Darius’s deep voice came from the shadows beside her.
One fine blond eyebrow lifted mockingly. “I don’t think happiness is the piece she just gave Stark.”
“Seriously, even your crudeness can’t bother me right now,” I told her.
“It can bother me, though,” Stark said. “Shouldn’t you be pulling the wings off seagulls or the claws off crabs?”
Aphrodite acted like Stark hadn’t spoken and walked up to me. “Is it true?”
“Is what true? That you’re a pain in the butt?” I said.
Stark snorted. “That’s definitely true.”
“If it’s true, then you’re gonna have to tell him. I’m not listening to him blubber.” Aphrodite waved her iPhone around, using it to punctuate her words.
“Jeesh, you’re acting super crazy, even for you,” I said. “Do you need shopping therapy intervention? Is. What. True?” I spoke slowly, pretending she was an English-as-a-second-language-learner.
“Is it true what the Queen of Every Damn Thing Skye just told me—that you’re not leaving with us tomorrow? That you’re staying here?”
“Oh.” I shuffled my feet, wondering why I should feel guilty. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Great. Just great. Then, like I said before, you tell him.”
“Who him?”
“Jack. Here. He’s gonna burst into snotty tears and ruin his makeup, which will make him boo-hoo even more. And I want nothing to do with gay snot. At all.” Aphrodite punched the screen of her phone. It was ringing when she handed it to me.
Jack sounded sweet but defensive when he answered. “Aphrodite, if you’re going to say something else mean about the Ritual, then I think you should just say nothing at all. Plus, I’m not going to listen to you because I’m busy defying gravity. So there.”
“Uh, hi, Jack,” I said.
I could almost see his smile blaze through the phone. “Zoey! Hi! Oooh, it’s so cool that you’re not dead, or even dead-like. Oh, oh, did Aphrodite tell you what we’re planning for tomorrow after you get back? Ohmigoddess, it’s going to be so totally cool!”
“No, Jack. Aphrodite didn’t tell me ’cause—”
“Goodie! I get to tell you. So, we’re going to have a special Dark Daughters and Sons Ritual of Celebration, like with proper nouns and such, because you being un-shattered is a big deal.”
“Jack, I have to—”
“No, no, no, you don’t have to do anything. I have it all handled. I even have the food planned, well, with Damien’s help, of course. I mean…”
I sighed and waited for him to take a breath.
“See, told ya,” Aphrodite said under her breath while Jack gushed. “He’s going to bawl when you burst his little pink bubble.”
“… and my favorite part is w
hen you come into the circle I’m going to be singing ‘Defying Gravity.’ You know, like Kurt did on Glee, except I’m going to actually hit that high note. So what do you think?”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I think you’re a really good friend.”
“Oooh! Thank you!”
“But let’s postpone the Ritual.”
“Postpone? How come?” His voice already sounded trembly.
“Because…” I hesitated. Crap. Aphrodite was right. He probably was going to cry.
Stark pried the phone gently from my hand and tapped the speaker button.
“Hey there, Jack,” he said.
“Hi, Stark!”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Ohmigoddess! Of course!”
“Well, I’m still kinda out of it from the Otherworld thing and all. Aphrodite and Darius are coming back tomorrow, but Zoey is going to stay here on Skye with me while I get stronger. So could you let everyone know that we won’t be back in Tulsa for a couple more weeks or so? Just pass the word for me and smooth everything over?”
I held my breath, waiting for the tears, but instead Jack sounded totally grown and mature. “Absolutely. Don’t worry about anything, Stark. I’ll let Lenobia and Damien and everyone know. And Z, no problem. We can definitely postpone. It’ll just give me more time to practice my song and figure out how to make origami swords for decorations. I thought I’d hang them with fishing line, that see-through stuff, so it would look like, you know, they’re defying gravity.”
I smiled and mouthed thank you to Stark. “Sounds perfect, Jack. I won’t worry about a thing if I know you’re in charge of the decorations and the music.”
Jack’s happy laughter bubbled. “It’s going to be a great Ritual! You wait and see. Stark, just get well. Oh, and Aphrodite, you shouldn’t assume that I’m going to burst into tears at the first hint of a change in party plans.”
Aphrodite frowned at the phone. “How the hell did you know that’s what I assumed?”
“I’m gay. I know things.”
“Whatever. Say goodbye, Jack. My phone’s roaming,” Aphrodite said.
“Goodbye, Jack!” Jack said, giggling, while Aphrodite snatched the phone from Stark and ended the call.
“That went better than you thought it was going to go,” I said to Aphrodite.
“Yeah, ‘she’ took it well. Wonder how that other one will take it, since she’s exponentially worse than Miss Jack.”
“Look, Aphrodite, Damien isn’t a fluttery gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I really wish you’d be nicer about both of them.”
“Oh, please. I’m not talking your gays. I’m talking about Neferet.”
“Neferet!” My voice was sharp. I hated even saying her name. “What have you heard from her?”
“Nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m worried about. But, hey, Z, don’t lose any sleep over it. After all, you’re going to be here, on Skye, with a gazillion big, strong guys—and Stark—to protect you, while the rest of us mere mortals get on with the whole good versus evil, Darkness v. Light, epic battle, blah, blah, et cetera, ad nauseam.” Aphrodite turned and stomped up the front stairs of the castle.
“Aphrodite’s a mere mortal? I thought her pain-in-the-ass level was well beyond mere,” Stark said.
“I heard that!” Aphrodite called over her shoulder. “Oh, and FYI, Z, I had a luggage emergency, as in I didn’t have enough of it, so I’m confiscating that suitcase you bought the other day. I’m off to do some power packing. Later, peasants.” She slammed the thick, wooden door to the castle, which really took some doing.
“She’s magnificent,” Darius said, smiling proudly as he vaulted the steps and followed Aphrodite.
“I can think of a lot of m words that she could be. Magnificent isn’t one of them,” Stark grumbled.
“Mental and mean pop into my head,” I said.
“Manure pops into mine,” Stark said.
“Manure?”
“I think she’s full of shit, but it’s too many words and doesn’t start with an m, so that’s as close as I could get,” he said.
“Heehees,” I said. Then I linked my arm with his. “You’re just trying to distract me from the Neferet stuff, aren’t you?”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.”
Stark’s arm slid around me. “Then I’ll have to work on my distraction skills.”
Arm in arm, we walked to the castle entrance. I let Stark amuse me with his list of m words that fit Aphrodite better than magnificent, and tried to regain the sense of contented happiness I’d felt so recently and so briefly. I kept telling myself that Neferet was a world away—and the adults of that world could handle her. As Stark opened the castle door for me, something pulled my vision upward and my eyes caught on the flag that waved proudly over Sgiach’s domain. I paused, appreciating the beauty of the powerful black bull with the shape of the glittering Goddess within his body. Just then, a trail of mist lifted from the waters that flanked the castle, altering my sight of the flag and changing the black bull to ghostly white as it blanked out the Goddess image completely.
Fear skittered through my body.
“What is it?” Instantly alert, Stark moved to my side.
I blinked. The fog dissipated and the flag shifted back into its proper form.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just me being paranoid.”
“Hey, I’m right here. You don’t have to be paranoid; you don’t have to worry. I can protect you.”
Stark took me into his arms and held me tightly, blocking the outside world and what my gut was trying to tell me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Stevie Rae
“You ain’t yourself. You know that?”
Stevie Rae looked up at Kramisha. “All I’m doin’ is just sittin’ here, minding my own business.” She paused, letting the unlike you implication sink in. “How is that not being myself?”
“You picked the darkest, creepiest corner stuck all over here. You blew them candles out so it’d be even darker. And you sitting here moping so loud I can almost hear your thoughts.”
“You can’t hear my thoughts.”
The hard edge to Stevie Rae’s voice had Kramisha’s eyes widening. “ ’Course I can’t. They’s no need for you to get all huffy. I said almost. I ain’t Sookie Stackhouse. Plus, even if I was I wouldn’t listen in to your thoughts. That’d be rude and my mama raised me better than that.” Kramisha sat next to Stevie Rae on the little wooden bench. “Speaking of—am I the only one who thinks that werewolf is hotter than Bill and Eric put together?”
“Kramisha, do not mess up season three of True Blood for me. I haven’t finished my DVDs of season two.”
“Well, I’m just sayin’, prepare for some serious four-footed hotness.”
“Seriously. Don’t you dare tell me anything else.”
“Okay—okay, but the whole wolf-monster-hotness-guy thing is somethin’ I need to talk to you ’bout.”
“This bench is made of wood. Wood equals earth. Which means I can probably figure out a way to make it smack the living crap right outta you if you mess up True Blood for me.”
“Would you please relax? I’m already offa that. I got somethin’ else we gotta discuss before we go into what I know is gonna be one majorly boring Council Meeting.”
“It’s part of what we gotta do. I’m a High Priestess. You’re a Poet Laureate. We have to go to the Council Meetings.” Stevie Rae let out a long puff of air and felt her shoulders slump. “Dang, I’ll be glad when Z gets back here tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is what’s got you so messed up in the head you seem turned inside out.”
“My boyfriend has lost his dang mind and disappeared off the face of the earth. My best friend almost died in the Otherworld. The red fledglings—the other ones—are still out there somewhere doin’ Bubba-knows-what, which I’m pretty sure means eating people. And to
top it all off I’m supposed to be a High Priestess, even though I’m not even sure what all that means. I think that’s enough to mess up anyone’s head.”
“Yeah, it is. But it ain’t enough to keep givin’ me weird-assed poems that all have the same freaky theme. They about you and beasts, and I want to know why.”
“Kramisha, I do not know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”
Stevie Rae started to stand up, but Kramisha reached into her huge bag and pulled out a piece of violet-colored paper that had her bold writing scrawled across it. With another heavy exhale of breath, Stevie Rae sat down and held out her hand.
“Fine. Let me see.”
“I wrote ’em both on this paper. The old one and the new one. Somethin’ told me you might need your memory refreshed.”
Stevie Rae didn’t say anything. Her eyes went to the first poem on the paper. She took her time reading it. Not because she needed her memory refreshed. She didn’t. Every line of the poem had been burned into her mind.
The Red One steps into the Light
girded loins for her part in
the apocalyptic fight.
Darkness hides in different forms
See beyond shape, color, lies
and emotional storms.
Ally with him; pay with your heart
though trust cannot be given
unless the Darkness you part.
See with the soul and not your eyes
because to dance with beasts you
must penetrate their disguise.
Stevie Rae told herself she wouldn’t cry, but her heart felt bruised and broken. The poem had been right. She’d seen Rephaim with her soul, not with her eyes. She’d parted Darkness and trusted and accepted him—and because of that, because she’d allied herself with a beast, she had paid with her heart. She was still paying with her heart.
