by Kiki Howell
“Stop!” It’s loud and prevailing since I haven’t felt a striking impact.
Releasing a shaky breath, I open my eyes to see Pan’s massive form walking toward the sisters. I catch sight of his giant, bronze horns that curl back. He's walking toward us with such lethal confidence, it’s hair-raising.
The one that holds the whip, speaks out. “Why should we listen to you?”
“Because it is I who lured the goddess to earth.”
What? No!
“Pan!” My voice is shaking—why is he saying this?
The Horai snaps their fingers. The chains are no longer holding my limbs, but now they have snagged onto Pan’s wrists and legs. I falter to the ground, my knees taking the harsh impact, and I rub my wrists where the chains held tight. Within moments the chains tighten, stretching Pan’s limbs apart.
I know what he is doing, but I don’t know why he’s doing it.
Forcing myself to stand up, I walk toward them, my hands balled at my sides. “Wait!”
Up ahead, Pan moves his head from side to side. “Calista...” His voice wasn’t raised or whispered, but there was a warning on his tone which brought me to a halt midway.
I beg, feeling a heavy burden on my chest, “You can’t do this, please don’t do this!”
Everything around me slowed down to a point. I watch the whip rise into the air and the single whip splits into three individual straps, connected only at the base. The three thongs strike Pan along his bare chest. Striking ivory lines appear on his flesh and a milky substance streaks down his front. He grunts terribly.
“Wait!” I yell again.
One of them looks back on me, “You should not interrupt the punishment.”
Another strike and Pan lets out an agonizing grunt.
I wince with his misery. “He’s lying. I was not with him.”
“Whether that may be true, we do not know who to believe.” The crack of the whip sends a chill down my spine and it’s a sickening sound.
How long will Pan last without screaming?
I shake my head, my gaze unable to look away. “This is not fair.”
“Selene, life is not fair,” replies the Horai in unison. “But there are consequences and you will learn from them regardless of who suffers.”
The Horai are kind enough to inform me that I can leave, but how can I leave?
I chose to stay and I watch the thongs mark fresh lines on Pan’s flesh. They crisscross and embellish his skin on top of old scars.
Pan closes his eyes, wincing but within moments his pale blues are staring at me, holding my gaze.
Why did he do this?
Chapter Ten
IT WASN'T LONG before Pan couldn't hold back his screams.
His shrieks became deafening and I had to hold myself back from covering my ears. It was not because it was too loud—it was simply hard to hear. It was distressing to know that he had purposely protected me, and he was suffering.
I forced myself to watch; I didn’t allow my gaze to drift away or to close my eyes. I owed him that much to watch, as he was punished.
When it is was over, Pan’s entire body is dripping with pearly ichor and his flesh is severely slayed. He seems unconscious, with his head hanging and bobbing from side to side. My hands tremble, unsure about what to do. Many times I wanted to do something—anything—to help, but what could I do? I am simply the moon goddess. I thought about my ability to manipulate water, but I can't use it beyond the mortal realm.
The Horai snaps their fingers and informs me, “He will need your help. You may take him home.”
Uncertain about their response, I ask, “To Earth?”
All three nod their heads, “If you do not return, we will send the Erinyes.” And just like that, the three sisters are gone.
Pan stirs. “Calista...” His raucous voice is heart-wrenching. My lip trembled, unsure of what to say. I’m upset with him because of what he did. I do not know if I should be yelling at him or embracing him for his valiant actions.
I take in his bloody back, staring at the many painful lines. Ichor drips from the open flesh wounds. When they heal, his body will have more scars because of me.
Why did Pan do this?
I want to scream at him, but instead, my gaze becomes blurry. I blink rapidly, forcing down the sudden frantic emotions.
Leaning over Pan, I ask him if he’s okay. I need him conscious.
When he stirs with a deep groan, I’m thrilled that he’s able enough to communicate. Maybe not with words, but anything at this point is better than nothing.
He whispers again, “Calista...”
“I’m here,” I answer, and guide him as he tries to push himself off the ground. His arms are shaking terribly. Without warning his hands slip out and his front drops to the ground. Another painful groan erupts.
On a count to three, we try again while his entire body is quivering. Somehow we manage to get him to stand up, and I dip under his arms to provide him with whatever support he needs. With his body weighing heavily on me, I allow my thoughts to think of Pan’s home on earth. Within moments, we are no longer standing outside of the Olympian gates. We are now in the thick forest of Arkadia. Pan's home.
I feel the dense foliage beneath my bare feet and a thousand sounds crash over me from all directions. The air is laden with moisture, and every turn and crevice stands a tall tree wrapped in thick, green moss. There is not a clear path around me or above me. Every turn is crammed with flora and fauna, of all different sizes and colors.
Arkadia is a beautiful province filled with mountains and few to none mortal life. Which is why Pan chose this area to live in. He’s a god who likes to be alone; he doesn’t care for gods or mortals alike. At the same time, he does like to drink wine and enjoy good music from time to time. Pan doesn’t mind socializing, but it has to be on his own terms.
Pan and his nymphs enjoy this land, without being bothered by the mortals.
Around us, I see the luminous glow of the nymphs lurking in the shadows of the forest. I hear voices—they speak a diverse language that only the Nymphs and Pan can understand.
Pan makes incoherent sounds above me and when he falters to the side, he takes me with him.
His massive physique smashes into a tree, and his excruciating groans vibrate at the back of my neck. He drags me down further to the ground, and I drop stuck under his bulky arms. We flounder against the thick umbrage, both of us on the ground.
From his suffocating arms, I untangle myself, staring down on the god. My breathing is uneven and I’m frustrated, not knowing what to do.
Blood is everywhere on the foliage and on my hands; I try to wipe it clean on my chiton.
“Why did you do that?” I ask with a huge lump that has been lodged in my throat from when I had seen the lashing. I don’t expect him to answer—he can’t, even if he wanted to.
On a sigh I closed my eyes, wishing for the images and his screams to stop. I can hear and see him as if it was happening again, right in front of me. I open my eyes to focus on his face and Pan’s thick, black brows furrow together with excoriating pain.
When the tension is gone, Pan looked at peace but only for a few stolen seconds. It’s rare to see the god in such an innocent state. In the back of my head, I keep thinking that he would open his eyes and smile wickedly at me. Then Pan would tell me that it was a bad trick. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, there are more incoherent sounds as his entire body tenses with the discomfort.
What am I supposed to do?
Reaching down, I push aside a few black strands covering his eyelids and my own eyes are again becoming misty. On a deep inhale, I manage to hold down turbulent emotions. From my peripheral vision, I see the blue glow of a nymph creeping closer toward us.
She’s glowing blue because she’s a water nymph and she’s unclothed. Nymphs don’t like to be dressed in gowns like other gods and mortals; they prefer to roam the earth naked. Nymphs look like any other woman—mortal or god—
with our feminine physique. The only exception is that they have abnormally wide black pupils and pointed ears, and they glow. Their skin is bare of all hair except for the head, and they lack details on their breast. Every part of their skin seems smooth and soft. No imperfections.
I lift my eyes to see that the nymph is holding something.
I walk toward her, “What is that?”
I don’t know why I asked her that question when she will not reply to me. If she will answer, it will be in a language that I won’t understand.
I look down and see Pan’s flute, which he never takes off. But he took it off now.
Why?
And how did he know that the Horai had caught me?
Pan took off his flute, meaning that he knew he was coming to my rescue.
Did he plan to save me?
If he planned to save me then he knew that I was going to get caught but how?
The nymph says something in her foreign language and I also see a small bottle in her grasp. Without a word, she nudges her hand toward me, hinting that she wants me to take it and I do. The nymph doesn't wait, she is quick to disappear. The dense forest swallows her petite frame without a trace and I glance down on the bottle.
I don’t want to believe my thoughts, but they seem true.
Turning the cap I bring it to my nose and take a whiff. It smells horrid. I peek inside and see a clear liquid, so I assume that Pan is to drink it. I close it back and start toward the unconscious god.
Dropping to my knees beside Pan, I part his lips and pour the liquid into his mouth, then wait for something to happen. I can only assume the nymph gave me something to heal the god of the wilderness. After all, the nymphs are very fond of Pan.
Impatiently, I settle back on my rear and continue to study Pan.
Why would he purposely get me in trouble and then take the punishment himself?
With the ring gone, you can never see Endymion again.
My eyes sweep over my hand, the one with the missing ring, and my stomach swirls and contorts into a frenzy of dread. This is my last visit on earth, and that awareness blooms a frantic pulse inside of my chest. I stand almost immediately, knowing my next thoughts should be of Endymion. I guard myself because the moment I leave Arkadia the Horai will send the Erinyes after me. I was warned, and they will keep to their word.
How can I never see Endymion again?
Before I can blink and not be in Arkadia, Pan groans. I allow Endymion to slip from my mind, and my attention is on the god who took on my punishment.
Kneeling back by his side, I’m relieved. “Pan...” Tears are streaming down my cheeks; I do not know if they are for his pain, or for Endymion, or for both. The familiar twinge in my heart gnaws more fiercely this time and I can’t breathe.
I close my eyes, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. I wipe them away just as quickly as they escape.
Why am I crying? This is the second time tonight.
“Calista.” Pan’s voice is hoarse and quiet.
I open my eyes to find his pale blues staring at me. My lips tug at the side, even more relieved. I ask through shaky words, “Are you okay?”
I know that’s an illogical question. Why would he be?
Another awful groan and shifting up, I help Pan to sit up against a tree. He closes his eyes as another wave of soreness ripples through him. “I will be...” he breathes in the twinge. “In a few moments.” His low tone starts to work on my nerves, not in an irritating way, but in the way that I love to hate.
How is that possible? Pan seems to have that effect on me, but I don’t know why.
Veering back, I create some space between us because I can feel the invisible stronghold. It’s not as strong as when he’s healthy, but it’s here now that Pan is conscious and focused on me.
Ask him about the ring, reminds a voice.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, hoping that whatever carnal desires that lives and breathes between him and I stays on the sidelines. This isn’t the time and place.
“Why”—he breathes in excruciating misery—“does that”—another grunt—“need an answer?”
“Because that was uncalled for.” My voice is uneven when I don’t look away from his gaze. “You lied.”
“I protect what is mine,” he says through clenched teeth. On the front of his chest and stomach, I see the open flesh wounds closing.
“I could have...” I pause, unsure of my words. I couldn’t have dealt with the lashings, but I hold my ground in this argument. “I could have handled it.” Now I feel even more obliged to the god.
Sitting up more straight, Pan parts his lips. I suddenly feel nauseated. “Calista, are you crying for me?” His voice isn’t laced with pain; instead, he sounds darkly humorous. Which only confirms that Pan is feeling more like himself—not a good thing.
I do not know what to say to him because I’m upset for many reasons. It could be because I thought he was severely hurt and wouldn’t recover so quickly. If I had known that Pan’s nymphs had a vial on hand, maybe I wouldn’t be as upset and as guilty as I am. Nevertheless, I do feel horrible, and it won’t go away. I’m also upset because my ring is gone and I think he may have something to do with it.
After confirming that his body is, in fact, regaining back his strength; Pan extends a hand and wipes at the dampness on my cheek. Warmth spreads from the bare contact, and my nerves fray with alarm.
“Gods do not shed tears, Calista.”
“I know,” I murmur, addled and still feeling my damn lip trembling. More tears uncontrollably slip through my lashes and I turn away, embarrassed.
This is ridiculous. Why am I crying?
Why do I feel embarrassed?
I have nothing to hide, to that extent.
This is... this whole thing is foolish.
These mixed-up feelings are trying to destroy me.
Pan leans down against me and whispers against my cheek, “Tears of a goddess.” His deep, riveting whisper is tantalizing. Qualm tickles under my skin with his admiration. “Forgive me, but I’m finding your tears utterly captivating.”
“My tears?” I ask, uncertain I heard him correctly. But when his tongue darts out and licks my cheek, I know my ears weren’t deceiving me. I tense. “Do you want to bottle them up?” I ask on an accelerated beat.
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest, when I thought I heard Endymion chuckling amongst nature’s orchestra.
I turn back to face Pan, our faces inches apart. With a slow nod of his head, he says, “I don’t like to share.” I can taste his breath on my lips, and his tone dripping with an ominous warning hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Was I hearing things? Making up tones and false meaning in my head?
“It’s the sweetest and richest red wine that I would bottle and sell.” Endymion’s words are a ghost of a whisper. I withdraw from Pan, creating needed distance between us. “My ring is gone,” I inform him, hoping to thwart his intentions.
Pushing myself off the ground, I stand up and toss Pan’s flute on his lap. He looks up at me and settles his gaze. “Calista, you’ve been playing a dangerous game.” His eyes are the contrast of ice and heat.
“What?” I ask and my veins go cold.
“Why can’t you see you belong to me.”
My hairs stand straight, “You’ve told me this many times.”
“You do not believe me,”
I nod my head, swallowing the excess salvia. “Pan what did you do?”
“What did you do?”
“I-I didn’t do anything,”
“Then I also did nothing,” he answers me and looks down on his flute. After a few awkward moments, he brings it up to his lips. A soft aria blends into the ensemble of the wilderness. The melody swirls around me and lulls me into a quiescence state. My skin pricks, flushing with fervor. Pan’s sweet melody caresses my skin and awakens ravenous waves of ecstasy. My body remembers and reacts, and I feel the wetness between the folds of my sex. My breasts all a sudden
feel heavy, and my nipples perk. The hard nubs feel sensitive brushing up against my chiton, and I suck in a tense breath.
Standing to his full height, Pan overshadows my petite physique. With the flute still pressed against his lips, he doesn’t stop playing. His tune is like honey to my ears and a secret song to my naughty pussy. I draw my thighs together, hearing Endymion.
“Greedy goddess.”
Why does my body betray me this way?
I want Endymion, not Pan- at least not anymore.
I don’t want to feel the ravenous hunger but it can’t be helped.
The god narrows his gaze and halts the music. He lets go of the flute and it drops from his grasp, swinging low around his neck. Pan takes a lethal step toward me and fear jolts through my veins. I try to step back, but he grabs onto the front of my dress and hauls me toward him.
“Calista.” His deep voice booms in my ear canal. “Don’t run from me.”
“I’m not running, it’s —”
“I’ve watched you with him for many nights,”
“Pan,” my voice is a whisper. “What did you do?”
“I’m a jealous god, and I told you that you were mine.”
“Pan...”
He growls, “I hinted to Eos that I haven’t seen you and when she tried to find you herself, she found out that I was speaking the truth. Your sister brought her worries to Zeus and you already know how the story ends.”
I feel like Pan knocked the air right out of my lungs, “The story doesn’t end well for you either,”
Pan releases his hold on the fabric, gaze dropping to my chest. Pan rubs his thumb across my silk-clad breast until he reaches the hard nubs and strokes over it. “I can deal with Zeus,”
I push his hand away, “I am not yours,”
He smiles wickedly, “The mortal has you confused. Tell me Calista, did you give yourself to him,”
“You don’t have the right to ask me that,”
“You are my right,” and rough hands grab my breast. I moan, it slipped out and I hate myself. I have always been hesitant with Pan but with Endymion, I had wanted him. Now, I know I will never see Endymion again unless I want to be at the mercy of the Horai or the Erinyes. With a disheartened thought, I choke on air, as a resonating growl erupts from Pan’s throat. He tears the front of my strapless chiton open and my breast spill out. Not missing a moment, he dips down and takes me into his mouth.
