Apollo's Raven

by Linnea Tanner

  “Touching you like you are touching me,” she cooed.

  “Mmmm … I like that,” he said, a soft growl deep in his throat.

  Slowly moving her hands lower, she hesitated when she saw his feral eyes lingering on her. Suddenly cognizant of his lusty hunger for her, she pulled away and covered herself with crossed arms. He leaned forward and pulled her arms away.

  “Don’t, I want to see you.”

  Unsettled by his aggressive behavior, she felt like a little girl again—vulnerable and innocent. The sun faded behind a cloud and the misty air rapidly cooled. Goose bumps erupted all over her skin and she began to shiver.

  Marcellus stepped back with regret on his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. It is just … when I thought you would touch me that way … oh gods, Catrin. I want you so badly, but before we go on, I need to be sure you still want this.”

  For the last few nights, Catrin had only dreamt of him. The desire was there, but something was holding her back. She averted her eyes from his piercing stare. Her voice quavered when she confessed, “I am in a cocoon. And I don’t know how to emerge. It is just … I need more time … more patience.”

  Marcellus regarded Catrin for a moment, then pulled off an amulet around his neck and put it around hers. He placed her hand on his chest where she could feel the strong beat of his heart. “This is my offering to you, my love,” he said. “Keep Apollo close to your heart. Whenever you look at his face, remember it is I who loves you and protects you.”

  Catrin lifted the statuette off her breasts to study its marble features. She stroked the hard marbled surface and exclaimed, “He looks just like you.”

  Marcellus chuckled. “My father had an artisan sculpt Apollo to my likeness. Hubris, I know, to fashion the sun god after oneself.”

  “This is how I see you in my dreams,” Catrin said, overcome with powerful feelings. “You descend as Apollo in a chariot and take me back to the heavens with you.”

  Marcellus stepped closer and gently lifted her face. “A dream is a journey to your soul; listen to your inner desires.”

  Catrin embraced him. “I do desire you, I want us to be together forever.”

  He held her tighter and whispered, “I want this, too, but you need to trust me. Relax. Let your emotions take over on our journey together.”

  She closed her eyes. “I do trust you.”

  Without another word, he pressed his lips hard on her mouth. This time, her unbridled passion matched his, their tongues swirling around each other in a sensual dance. He emitted a heady, musky scent that made her swoon. She went limp, savoring his wet kisses down her neck. His teeth clamped the skin on her shoulder and sharpened into a bite. She moaned, the pain exquisite as he lightly stroked her back.

  He then captured her backside, pressing her down on the plush wolf pelt. Musky lavender fragrance released, intoxicating them both with desire. His fingertips touched her as though he was an artist brushing new sensations all over her body. When he drew a nipple into his mouth, her inner core fired with dull electrical pulses, pleasing yet unnerving. It was as if the raven was trying to connect with her.

  She tensed for a moment and then relaxed. This must be the sensation of lovemaking, she reassured herself. As she nestled into the softness of the fur, she reached out for the touch of his warm hands and wet mouth exploring every curve of her body. When he slid a hand beneath her breeches, she winced from the unfamiliar thrust of his fingers probing inside. He must have sensed her discomfort, because he immediately pulled his hand away and lifted off her.

  With his gaze still on her, he knelt at her feet, untying and removing her sandaled shoes, first the right then the left. He kissed the insole of each foot that shot feathery tingles to her toes. While massaging her ankle, his mouth parted—lips thick, luscious. She wondered if he had made love to his Roman noblewoman the same way. No Cantiaci warrior would take so much time to arouse a woman like he was doing.

  After several glorious moments, he leaned over and pulled her trousers down over her hips. She nervously giggled as he wrestled the plaid fabric away from her feet. Now fully naked, she had nothing left to hide, no more dark secrets. She openly displayed herself and delighted at the glint in his eyes.

  Marcellus lowered himself beside her and passionately kissed her as his fingertips explored her inner thighs up to the pinnacle of her bundled tingles. When his forefinger rubbed over a most sensitized spot, she arched her hips from the unexpected arousal. He strummed the tissue like a harp until she cried out.

  He then rose above her like a god and released his remaining garments. His skin glowed in the sun’s brilliance. She closed her eyes from the blinding glare and parted her legs. When he pulled her into his sexual fire, she gripped his muscular arms to embrace his power. They were two stars merging into a brilliant glow—forever changed, forever connected.

  28

  White Raven

  Catrin’s eyes lowered and her lips began to quiver. “Marrock also set me on a wolf pelt before he abandoned me in the woods.”

  As Marcellus pinned Catrin’s arms against the wolf pelt, he beheld her ivory-crème face that reminded him of the roses at his family’s villa. She was a tight bud opening to his heat. Seeing the rapture on her face, he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His needs urgent, he roughly broke through her initial resistance and plunged into watery depths. The rhythm of his body on hers was like a wave crashing on a beach. He was no longer Roman, she no longer Cantiaci. They were as one.

  When her fingernails clawed into his back, he soared into climatic ecstasy and cried out, “Oh, sweet Venus,” then fell limp and immersed in her heat.

  A few moments later, he gazed into her bright turquoise eyes and swept a strand of golden hair from her face. Finally catching his breath, he kissed her gently. Not until then had he understood how Mark Antony could have been so bewitched by the Egyptian queen. Now this exotic Celtic princess possessed him—heart, body and soul.

  She gave him a sweet smile and sighed, “We are now forever bound in marriage.”

  Marcellus tensed.

  Marriage!

  Reason returning, he questioned himself for boldly claiming Catrin as his wife in the throes of passion. For matters as important as marriage, nuptial vows were chiseled in the hard negotiations of their fathers. Saying this to her seemed cold-hearted and he instead said, “I love you.” Yet the timbre of his words did not sound convincing. Feeling a pang of guilt, he rationalized that he at least gave Catrin a moment of joy before she was forced to wed. Marriage was not about love; it was about assuring the family line. The hard reality was he could not keep his vow, but it still pained him to see the sadness on her face.

  “I love you, too,” Catrin said somberly, “but where do we go from here?”

  “The memory of our time alone will forever be etched in my mind,” Marcellus quickly replied, but the next words caught in his throat: but we can never have each other.

  Catrin froze in his arms, as if she had heard his thoughts. He tried to ease her tension by stroking her hair, but she pushed hard against his chest. “That is not enough! Get off of me. I’m burning inside.”

  The sharp tone of her voice and the pained grimace on her face yanked at his heart. He untangled himself out of her legs, so she could get up. When she sat up, her mouth suddenly gaped in horror.

  Marcellus also bolted to a sitting position and looked in the direction of her eyes. To his dismay, a dark crimson stain besmeared the silver pelt. Although he knew taking her innocence might cause some bleeding, the excess worried him. He chastised himself for being too rough on their first sexual encounter. Concerned, he fingered a tiny braid in her mussed hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Catrin’s lips quivered as she continued gawking at the pelt. Marcellus turned her face toward him, so she would look into his eyes. “Pleas
e answer me. I want this to be special, this being your first time.”

  Catrin answered him with teary eyes.

  Regret now weighed heavily in Marcellus’s chest that he had hurt her physically and emotionally. He poured out his heart. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to feel close to you. It was as you described—our bodies and souls bound as one.”

  Catrin’s eyes lowered and her lips began to quiver. “Marrock also set me on a wolf pelt before he abandoned me in the woods.”

  Taken aback, Marcellus flinched. What did I do to prompt such a memory? He cupped her face between his hands to reassure her, to reassure himself. “For the love of gods, Catrin, why do you say that?” His voice cracked when he said, “At this moment, I have never been happier.”

  Misty-eyed, Catrin said ruefully, “I also wanted this. I don’t know why … it wasn’t what I had expected.”

  Marcellus embraced her. “It was special for me. It still is. Don’t let the memory of Marrock steal this time from us.”

  “Did I please you?” she asked, voice shaky.

  He tightened his arms around her. “Beyond all my expectations. Beyond what Venus could have conjured. I have never known such joy. I thought you felt this also.”

  Catrin pulled back and regarded him with doe eyes, then collapsed her head into her folded arms and wept. Each sob stabbed at Marcellus’s heart. Trying to find that bond with her again, he wove his fingers through hers. “Please tell me why you are so upset.”

  “I saw the white raven in your eyes,” she said, voice fading.

  Marcellus wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly. “White raven? I don’t understand your meaning.”

  Catrin wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand. “I also saw the white raven’s reflection on Marrock’s eyes … the day he set me on the wolf pelt … my sun disappeared. I can’t remember what he did, but in my heart I know he did something vile … something so terrible it will forever change me. The memory hides like a festering wound in my mind. The truth of what he did boils to the surface whenever I feel—” She fell into sullen silence.

  A dread crawled over Marcellus, recalling the raven bursting through the billowing smoke at the ritual. Decimus had warned him that this was a sign that Catrin was a sorceress. He asked her, “Do you take this as an omen?”

  “I am not sure,” she said, her eyes languished on him. “But I’m afraid our love could curse us … destroy us, destroy my family and kingdom.”

  Marcellus pressed her head against his chest, and he ran his fingers through her hair. “You can’t think this.”

  She pulled away and her eyes lowered to the pelt. “Do you smell that?”

  Marcellus whiffed a strange mix of sweet body odors. “Lavender. A hint of musk.”

  “When Agrona gave me the pelt, my desire for you grew stronger whenever I inhaled its scent.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Catrin’s eyes widened. “I fear Agrona cast a spell on us. I don’t know why she would do that.”

  A slight panic surged into Marcellus’s rapidly beating heart. He gripped her arms. “What are you saying? That I am bewitched, that what I feel for you is not real?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” She looked vacantly in the distance. “When I saw the white raven disappear from your eyes, it made me tremble. It made me think of Marrock, and what my father said.”

  “What is that?”

  “He told me about Rhan’s curse.”

  Marcellus jerked his head back. “Who is Rhan?”

  “Marrock’s mother, the former queen. She cursed my father at her execution, before I was born. Rhan foretold he would sire a daughter with another queen.” Catrin pointed to herself. “That daughter is me. The curse says, ‘When I fly out of Apollo’s flames as a raven, Marrock will ally with the Roman Empire.’” She lifted the Apollo’s amulet off her breasts with a trembling hand, as if the marble stone was too heavy. “Did I release Rhan’s curse by wearing this?”

  Flabbergasted, Marcellus fumbled for words. “For the love of gods, Catrin, you have done nothing wrong! You gave me your love. Nothing is more precious to me than that. This is not about Rhan’s curse.”

  When Catrin began weeping, he lifted her in his arms like a small child. “It is tearing my heart out that all I can give you is this moment. I thought you understood.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “You are right. I cannot ask any more.”

  Marcellus kissed her gently on the cheek. “Perhaps, if we bathe in the river, you’ll feel better. We can leave the pelt here as an offering to Epona. Let us enjoy the remaining time we have together.”

  Catrin nodded slightly and relaxed in his arms.

  29

  Raven’s Attack

  The raven suddenly dived at Marcellus in an all-out assault.

  Marcellus carried Catrin to midstream where he set her down. He scooped water into his hands and rinsed her body as if he was performing a healing ritual before they began their separate journeys. A deep sense of remorse washed over him that he would leave her when she needed him most. Not only did she carry the burden of not knowing what Marrock did to her, she also faced an uncertain future with a foreign husband she did not love. Her nakedness against him did not evoke a lustful desire, but something stronger—a deepening bond. Now that he had pledged his love to her, would his promise torment him after he left Britannia? How could he ever leave now, not knowing if she was all right? The heartache of losing her pierced into his soul.

  Marcellus tenderly massaged Catrin’s shoulders. A serene smile floated across her face and he again fell under her spell. He pressed her back against his chest and cupped her rounded breasts. Feeling her heart beat in synchrony with his, he whispered, “I love you.”

  Suddenly, to his dismay, she leaned over, clutched her stomach, and groaned as if she was ready to vomit. Trembling, she waved him back. “Something is wrong. I feel sick. My head is spinning. It is as if …” She touched her temple. “I need to be alone.”

  He reached for her hand. “What do you mean ‘be alone’?”

  She slipped into the water’s current and waded downstream. “I need to make an offering to Epona and ask for her blessing. I must do this alone. Go ahead, finish bathing. I will be ready soon.”

  A cold breeze over the water made Marcellus shiver as he watched Catrin swim to the riverbank. On shore, she hurriedly dressed and armed herself with a sword. His heart began pounding with trepidation when he observed her wandering aimlessly near the trees, staggering as if she were drunk. Worried that she was deathly ill, he rushed to shore to check on her.

  As he stepped on the embankment, a raven suddenly darted over Catrin’s head like an arrow shot straight at him. He dropped to the ground like a rock, but the creature’s sharp talons sliced his head as it swept over him. Keeping low on the ground, he listened for flapping wings. The only sound he could hear was his rapid heartbeats in his ears.

  A moment later, the raven shrieked, chilling him to his bones. He glanced sideways. A few feet from his face, the creature was perched on a moss-covered log. The raven bobbed its head and blasted another teeth-shattering screech.

  Marcellus scooted away from the ruffled bird and cried out, “Is this raven warning me of something?”

  Catrin yelled, “Yes, get away now!”

  The raven cocked its head sideways and peered at Marcellus with its glowing amber eyes.

  He bounced to his feet and shuffled backward, shouting, “That raven looks like it is ready to make a feast of me!”

  Not answering, Catrin pointed her sword at the sky, toward the woods and finally to the raven. In turn, the raven hopped sideways, first to the right then to the left, as if its dance was directed by her.

  “What are you doing?” Marcellus asked, confounded by her bizarre behavior.

&n
bsp; The raven suddenly dived at Marcellus in an all-out assault. He instinctively crossed his arms to shield his face from razor-sharp talons and screamed, “Get your cursed bird off me!”

  Peeking through a crack between his arms, he glimpsed Catrin dashing toward him and flapping her arms like a bird. “Stop it! Stop it! Get away!”

  The raven swooped over Catrin, and she quickly whirled around to chase after it. When she disappeared into the thick woods, an eerie silence pervaded the landscape. No birds chirped. No bees buzzed. No squawking ravens, either. A shiver ran down Marcellus’s back as he recalled the tribune’s warning that Apollo’s wrath could fall on him if he defiled Catrin. He looked at the sun now abandoning him behind billowing clouds.

  Apollo, did you send that cursed raven to be my scourge?

  A flurry of wrens suddenly flapped at his head, startling him. He shrunk from a sensation of evil crawling all over his skin. He glimpsed a shadow lurking between dense pines.

  “Catrin, where are you?” he cried out.

  The shadow stretched through the trees, and Catrin appeared under a beam of sunlight with sword in hand and the raven perched on her shoulder. She looked at Marcellus for a moment and strode back into the trees.

  Catrin’s bizarre behavior unnerved Marcellus. Was he a fool to love a cursed woman entranced by a raven? Conflicting emotions whirled inside him that their love was cursed, but he couldn’t just leave her. Not like that. He scanned the woods for her.

  All doubts about his love for Catrin swept away when he heard her scream, “Get away! Get away from me!”

  Terrified that she was being attacked, he scrambled through bushes, ignoring the pain of thorns stabbing his bare feet, and dashed into the woods where he found Catrin frozen in a defensive position, sword extended.

  He followed her fear-struck eyes toward the treetops.

  No movement.

  He darted his eyes around the forest.

  No predator or attacker.

  Finally he asked her, “What attacked you?”