“Kore,” she said, inclining her head and smiling. “You don’t need a husband. On your own, you have a remarkable role to play in this cosmos. Flowers sprout, they live, then they wilt. These people are alive right now, and your gift teaches them to enjoy the fleeting days they do have, and to celebrate it with each other.”
They passed under the sweeping branches of the great oak tree and stood outside Kore’s bower. The Maiden turned her mouth up in a half smile at her mother’s praise, and also remembered that there were others on Olympus she hadn’t yet met— Aphrodite, for instance— who might be better able to answer these questions, if only she could find a way to visit them. “When are you next going to Olympus?”
“Not any time soon, dear. Today was... tumultuous. I won’t be going for a long time, I expect,” she saw disappointment cross Kore’s face, remembering the promise she’d made earlier that day. “I’m sure everything will clear up some day. I’ll take you then.”
“So, I will see you tomorrow morning for the harvest?”
“Of course.” She kissed Kore on the cheek before vanishing with a rustle of barley. “Sleep well, darling. You’re safe here.”
People throughout Hellas had built shrines of wood and living things to Kore and to her mother aeons ago, maintaining them generation after generation. Her private sanctums were always open to the sky, the sunlight, the honeybees and birds that helped her tend to the new shoots and flowers. One of Kore’s favorite sacred places lay in this very clearing at the base of the oak tree. Clusters of white larkspur grew up the perfect circle of green willow shoots that served as her walls. Her ceiling was the vaulted branches and the stars wheeling above. The grass beneath her was soft, not wet with dew as it sometimes was, and strewn with rushes and violet petals upon which she made her bed.
As Kore lay on her side, she clasped her hands together and spoke a prayer in her own shrine, quietly pleading to Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth, to watch over the newly married woman and deliver her from pain and death. Maybe she would get to speak to Eileithyia directly before it was too late.
Marriage. They seemed so happy, so content with one another. Her mother had never had that before and perhaps she was wrong. Demeter was not omniscient, nor was her mother one of the Fates. The wife in the tent could live and thrive with her husband and child, and make many new children. She may have created a child today.
Kore’s body grew hot as she imagined making a child, the act of love. She quaked as images from the wedding swirled through her head, casting her into a fitful sleep. Her hands came up around her shoulders, her arms pressing against her breasts under the thin chiton. Kore dreamed. In her mind, she felt the woman’s joy again and felt it returned. She was the married woman, and could feel the husband’s arms holding her. Except she was still her maiden self lying in the grove and he was—
He was holding her. Kore felt his chest rise behind her and saw that the hands upon her arms were not hers. He was here, and holding her and she was leaning back into his embrace. Warm, strong hands rested on her arms, then traced down to the crooks of her elbows. Heat followed their path. The realization startled her— and startled the owner of those hands, she realized belatedly, feeling his fingers tense and relax on her skin when she stirred.
“Shhh… Persephone,” a voice whispered in her ear. Persephone; the name her father had given her. It was her official name, she always knew, that lay beyond her mother and the nymphs calling her Kore, maiden. “You’re dreaming; there’s no need to be frightened…”
She stayed still, not even daring to breathe. Who— why would he specifically call her this, or even know her true name? His voice had shaken just a bit, as though he were trying to assure himself that what he had said was true, that this was just a dream. The hands continued to move, lightly dropping from her elbows to her waist then traveling up her arms to her shoulders with a soft squeeze.
Only when his fingers touched her back did she realize that her chiton was gone. She was naked in front of… him. Kore’s hands flew instinctively to shield her mons, her stomach and breasts, but he gently pulled them away by her wrists, unwinding her. His careful, almost cautious movements made her breath catch in her throat, and when he didn’t immediately caress what he had revealed, she relaxed. This wasn’t real; it was only a dream. And he just felt so…
She knew that he spoke the truth. If this were indeed a dream, then surely she was safe. Wasn’t she? Even if he tried to do something… unthinkable, she could wake up and escape him. Couldn’t she? But as his hands moved back to her arms, her urge to wake, to leave him in the dream world, to leave the gentle stroking of his fingers, quickly diminished. Wordless answers to her unspoken yearnings after the wedding, as well as a pervasive calm, filled her the longer he touched her. His rich masculine voice rose slightly above the level of a whisper. “Let me look at you.”
Kore felt the gentle stranger roll her onto her back, her eyes shut and her face turned away as he ran his hands down her outstretched arms. What was he? Who was he? Was he an oneiros from the dream world or some shadowy creature from the Other Side? She’d heard tales of their visits— some benevolent, some terrifying. Did his voice match or mask his true appearance? Would she scream if she saw him? She felt his eyes on her body, but kept hers closed. Fingers brushed through her hair, moving russet waves away from her face and tucking them softly behind her ear before his hand rested on her shoulder, deliberately— respectfully— avoiding the parts of her unseen by the sun. Kore felt the same coil form low in her belly, stronger than this afternoon, becoming an ache that made her hips move just to soothe it. No reprieve came.
“Open your eyes,” she heard him whisper, his voice catching. Kore did so. She wanted to see who this was, a man who she had either conjured in her dreams or who had deliberately entered them. She needed to see what manner of man he was, but was afraid to look on him directly. With her head faced to the side, she first saw pale fingers brushing over her shoulder with short, smooth nails.
The moonlight danced along the shadows and rough contours of very male hands holding and caressing her. Kore’s skin thrilled at the sight, and the ache became a dull, pleasant throb around a strange feeling of emptiness. She could feel the strain in his arms as he fought to keep his hands away from her breasts, fought to ensure that he didn’t stray too far into intimacy and frighten her. A faint luminescence played under his skin, the tell tale sign that this was not a mortal man. He wasn’t one of the frightful creatures mortals told their children about and swept from their homes at Anthesteria, either. Who was he?
Kore turned slowly toward him, taking in first the smooth defined muscles of his arms and wide shoulders, then the slope of his body pressed to the side of hers. His face loomed into view, a thin smile deepening as he examined her. He tensed, almost imperceptibly. Though his face remained steady, she saw the pronounced lump in his throat bob nervously, knowing that she was now studying him.
She stared up at him with her pale blue eyes, her lips parted in curiosity and wonder at his appearance. He was… she didn’t have a word for it; she’d never looked at a man this closely. The sensation coursing through her— the tightening coil within, the quickening of her breath— gave her at least some sort of answer to what she felt today when she’d peered into the wedding tent. This was desire.
The eyes that met hers were wide and deep brown, almost black in the soft light and framed with black brows. Long, black curls of hair framed his moonlit face, falling away down his back. A narrow, trimmed black beard sat below wide soft lips and a regal aquiline nose. She felt the coil inside unwind into a flutter and gasped slightly.
They stayed that way, simply beholding one another before Kore felt his hand gently frame her face. He eclipsed her view, drawing closer. She sensed her whole body pulling toward his. His warm mouth tentatively brushed once over hers before capturing her lower lip between his, drawing her into a kiss. Kore had never been kissed before, and she realized she still hadn’
t. This was a dream. Wasn’t it? He felt so real and warm and sweet. And the jolt his touch sent through her had her returning his kiss, her lips seeking out his and parting to enjoy him. His tongue darted across her teeth before she pulled back to see him.
“I never dreamed you would be this beautiful,” he said quietly, trembling slightly, his baritone voice resonating low and intimate as he scanned the length of her body.
“What do you m-m—” she began, her voice swallowed by another kiss. This one was more insistent, and she felt her skin jump. Her hips rocked, her stomach tensed at the firmer press of his mouth against hers. It was only once she leaned into him that she felt something hard and hot pressed against her hip, eliciting a soft groan into her mouth and a shiver that moved like a wave along his entire body. She mewled a wordless question against his lips, wanting to ask who he was. His only response was to skim his tongue across her teeth until they opened, letting him taste her.
Kore heard him sigh as his hand traced up her ribs and settled firmly on her breast. Her nipple instantly tightened under his palm and she cried into his mouth at the unanticipated pleasure of it. He languorously stroked her tongue with his and tasted of ancient groves and deep, warm earth, and the cold, faint sweetness of a foreign flower she knew but couldn’t quite place. With a gasp she broke off the kiss to look up at him again, her face and neck flushed, her lips tingling, her heart pounding. The cool night air moved over her hot skin.
He smiled down at her again. “You taste exquisite.”
“Who are you?” she said, barely able to hear her own words as her heartbeat thrummed in her ears.
He froze at her question and darted his eyes from her gaze, taking in, memorizing, her face and neck, the lines of her collarbone. He reached for a lock of hair that had spilled over her breast. “This is your dream, remember? Tell me who I am,” he said smiling, absently coiling the long brown tendril around a finger.
She narrowed her eyes at him, her tone firm. “If this is my dream, oneiroi, then answer my question. Who are you?”
He was hearing her true voice— that of a natural ruler. His smile widened at her fearlessness, even though he was twice her size and loomed over her, caging her body with his. “I am not an oneiroi, sweet one.”
“What are you, then?”
“Deathless,” he said simply. “Like you.”
“Wh-who are you?” she whispered.
He slowly lowered himself to her, hovering just above her, the heat of his chest making contact with her, making her quiver, making her want to pull the weight of his body down to cover hers. He whispered in her ear. “I am your lord husband.”
Her eyes grew wide and he settled his mouth on hers for another kiss. She felt everything tilt, and drop away underneath her as he lifted her at the small of her back, pulling her against him to sit up with him. He grasped her leg with one hand, positioning her in his lap. Her trembling legs splayed around his hips and her body was flush against his. For a moment the heat she’d felt earlier pressed and pulsed against her lower lips as they adjusted. He pulled back, his face filled with caution and longing. Instinctively, her feet locked around his lower back, raising her higher and breaking that brief, intimate contact. His arms supported her upright frame effortlessly. He brought her inches from his face, and his eyes darkened with intensity and heat, midnight black, and Kore suddenly felt very small again. “M-my husband?”
“Yes,” he said, feeling her arms rest on either side of his chest and her fingers grip his shoulders. “And you will be my queen, Persephone.”
He whispered her name to her and kissed her again, letting her hands move up to his neck and weave through the curls of his hair. She grew curious and snaked her tongue into his mouth. Did he say ‘queen’? Kore felt him surge against her as she led in kissing him instead of being kissed. He tightened his arms around her, his control starting to slip. It sent a thrill through her, but she realized how dangerous her forwardness could be.
Physically, he could easily overpower her and take whatever he wanted. But he didn’t. In her sensual haze she wondered nervously for a moment if he intended to enter her here and now— to make her his queen in the deepest sense. Kore shuddered at this idea, wondering if by just entertaining that thought within the dream, he would do just that. But he didn’t. She felt one supporting arm grasp at her shoulder blades and the other move down her back and firmly cup the cheeks of her rear as he lifted them up. Still holding her, he rose up on his knees and laid her back down in the soft rushes, fitting his body over hers.
Kore felt the world tilt back and squeezed her legs tighter around him. She was entirely at his mercy. What would it feel like for him to be within her? Would he go gently, knowing that she was a maiden? If he tried to take her now, he could. But he didn’t. He arched above her and carefully fanned out her lilac-strewn hair and stroked his fingers through it, brushing it back from her forehead. He cupped her cheek and made her shiver as his thumb trailed over her lips, her chin and down the column of her neck. He drew closer. Black curls fell from his head and down his back, forming a curtain around them. The oak tree was blotted out. The stars were gone. There was only she and he, her body blanketed by his above her, their tongues mating together in a kiss, the throbbing heat pressed hard against her inner thigh. His hips rocked forward of their own volition and she felt him grind against her skin, his breath hissing through his teeth.
In a bid to salvage his control, he broke away from their kiss and pressed his lips against her neck, lifting his body away from hers, making her shiver in the night air. He planted light kisses across her collarbone, molding a breast with his hand.
The sudden absence of his skin against her made her delirious, her thoughts rapidly shifting back and forth between relief at his restraint and wanting to draw him down again to quench the ache consuming her. Kore’s body was on fire. She didn’t want him to stop. She needed him to stop. She needed to know who he was. She didn’t care who he was as long as he didn’t stop. Her frustrations became a moan, the sound surprising her and encouraging him, when his lips wrapped around a taut nipple. The electric sensation of his tongue rasping against the very tip arched her body toward him and shot pleasure through the center of her. Kore’s mind snapped into focus as his hand came between them and landed with a massaging squeeze on the nest of curls covering her mound.
“Wait…” she whispered.
He pulled that hand away instantly, his breath shallow. His arms tensed and he stared straight at her, straining between holding himself back and pressing onward, deciding, weighing her single word against their shared desire. He smiled at her before inhaling and letting out a long cool sigh, shutting his eyes. “You’re right.”
She felt relief tinged with longing, her body cursing her for stopping him. He pulled himself away from her with difficulty, and Kore felt the sudden cool rush of air over her as he settled at her side. He tilted her chin toward him.
“You’re right, Persephone. When we have each other, it should be in the proper place— in my own bed, after I’ve claimed you.”
Kore felt herself blush from the bottom of her feet to where he pecked a light kiss on the tip of her nose. She resisted tilting upward to kiss him again, to draw his body back down to her. Into her, she thought with a shudder. Was that what she wanted? What she needed? She didn’t even know his name. But in every way else she felt him, knew him, and knew intuitively that she was his and he was hers. That potent knowledge coursed through her very veins.
“Please…” Kore licked her dry lips and stared up at him, “I need to find you. Tell me your name.”
He smiled at her and caressed her cheek, a soft sadness in his eyes. Sighing, he bent down to kiss her in the middle of her forehead.
She jolted awake, sitting up, alone, her heart racing. The grove was empty and cold, but her body felt hot and her inner thighs were slick with liquid warmth. She brought her arms around her and felt only her chiton, the peaks of her breasts chafing against the th
in linen. She was dressed as she was before. It was a dream. Gasping for air, she looked around for the powerful lover— her husband, he had said— who had been holding her seconds ago, and then glanced up into the oak tree.
A thin pale figure, wrapped in a cloak and silhouetted against the faint light, turned to meet her gaze before vanishing into mist. She barely had time to register if it was real or imagined before she heard a sparrow chirp. The first flicker of dawn licked the eastern sky. The light grew stronger, revealing that the white larkspur had turned dark crimson overnight. Within her shrine, a new and beautiful light gray flower sprang from the ground, surrounding her.
Asphodel.
3.
Kore touched the gentle flowers growing around her and shifted the coloring of her dress to a soft white, mimicking the color of the blossoms. How beautiful they were… like last night, like him, though she knew ‘beautiful’ was seldom applied to men, and was too soft a word for him anyway.
Asphodel… she was the Maiden of the Flowers and knew that’s what these were intuitively, but tried to remember where she had heard the name— and what their significance was.
She had only ever seen asphodel growing as a gnarled dark gray weed. It was one of the few plants her mother would rip out of the fields wherever she had seen it. Kore had always trailed behind her, doing the same. She had never seen asphodel bud and blossom. The white blooms were thin, veined with a centerline of crimson, six petals with bright filaments bursting from the center and ending in deep red anthers. They were beautiful and foreign.
The man in her dream returned to her thoughts. She shivered at the idea of kissing him again, of tangling her fingers in the jet black curls of his hair, and melting into the heat of his body pressed so close to hers. She picked one of the small flowers from its dark stalk and twisted its stem around a lock of hair, her russet waves matching the red veins of the flower. She smiled, studying it, then walked from plant to plant, picking one bloom from each, and expertly weaved them into a crown, placing it atop her head.
Receiver of Many Page 4
