“Of course I do.” Which was why she’d been upset. Was still upset.
“That means a lot to me.”
Megan nuzzled the back of her neck. “Why was the dream so important?”
“I was in high school. All my friends were dating, and I didn’t know anyone gay, and I didn’t think I’d ever, ever meet anybody. Ever.” Kira spoke so quietly that Megan stilled so she could hear. “The only thing that kept me going was that dream. It gave me hope that maybe I was wrong and someday I’d meet someone wonderful.”
Megan hugged her more tightly.
“Thank you for not leaving,” Kira said.
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
“You promised you wouldn’t leave if I told you what the dream was about. Which I haven’t actually done yet.”
“I won’t leave.” Megan let her hands stray upward from Kira’s waist. Her breasts fit perfectly in her hands. Kira moaned in approval and wedged herself more firmly between her legs. Megan reinforced her hold, taking full advantage of her position, and moved her thumbs over Kira’s already hard nipples.
Kira’s head lolled back, relaxing against her shoulder. “Hold that thought.”
Megan did. But as much as she’d like to continue for hours, they were definitely getting sidetracked. “What was the dream about?”
Kira spoke haltingly. “There was a round pit—a bowl sunk into the floor that had turned black with soot. The fire in the pit supposedly rose from molten lava at the center of the earth through some sort of volcanic vent under the temple, although I have a hard time believing that was true, since we had to feed it constantly with wood.”
Megan flashed back to her own brief memory of falling to the floor of a Greek temple during an earthquake. “Your job was to feed the fire?”
“Feed it. Guard it. Keep it alive. That vent was important—it wasn’t for cooking or warmth, it was the city’s connection to the goddess’s womb at the center of the earth.”
That sounded familiar. “And that was my job, too?”
“I think so.”
“Any sense of the time period?”
“No.”
“We were keeping the fire going inside a temple. So we were priestesses?” Megan prompted her.
“I guess so.”
“What was the name of the goddess we were priestesses of?”
“I have no idea. It was a dream,” Kira reminded her.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“So you said.”
“I need to know what happened.”
Kira gripped Megan’s thighs on either side of her. Her touch burned through the fabric of her pants. “So you can break up with me?”
“Kira—” Megan’s voice cracked as her thighs clenched. Walking away from this attraction was going to be extremely hard. Maybe too hard. They were in this together no matter what she did, and the thought of leaving was killing her. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to break up with you.”
“You’d better be.”
“I want the name.” The more they knew, the better chance they had of figuring out which direction her karma was pushing her—pushing them both.
“I’m telling you, that was not one of the details that was burned into my brain. I was far more interested in remembering what you looked like—well, what the girl in my dream looked like, but she was you—maybe a younger you—and remembering what you made me feel—than remembering some goddess’s…” A strange expression came over Kira’s face, as if she were trying to catch a word that was on the tip of her tongue. Megan sat perfectly still, afraid to distract her and make her lose track of the memory.
Kira shook her head.
Megan bit back her disappointment. “What did this goddess look like? Was there a statue of her?”
“No statue.”
Huh. Weren’t statues typical inside ancient temples? “Why not?”
“She didn’t take mortal form. She was more of an essence than a solid being. Closer to pure energy. Light. Consciousness.”
Megan could almost see her, the spirit of the fire, dangerously white-hot. There was no way Kira’s dream was just a dream. It fit in too perfectly with her own past-life memories.
“You think it was real?” Kira tightened her grip on Megan’s legs.
Megan caressed Kira’s fingers, trying to reassure her, trying to ignore the jolts of lightning shooting up her thighs. “We’ll find out.”
Chapter Seventeen
“The priestesses of the ancient Greek goddess, Hestia,” Megan read aloud from the computer in Kira’s bedroom, “later known as Vesta by the Romans, were virgins. As in many religions, it was believed that chastity allowed these individuals’ sexual energy to be transmuted into spiritual fervor and allowed them to devote themselves completely to their goddess.”
Kira stood beside her, reading over her shoulder. “It’s not her,” she said. “There was definitely no chastity going on in my dream.”
Megan reached under Kira’s shirt and caressed the small of her back. “That’s not the part we’re trying to focus on here.”
“It is if you’re going to stick your hand up my shirt.” Kira covered her fingers on the mouse and clicked on a link to another ancient goddess.
“Hey!” Megan protested.
Keeping her right hand exactly where it was, Kira planted her left hand on the other side of the desk beside the keyboard, trapping her. Her chest brushed against Megan’s back. It was quite clear it was deliberate.
A small sound of satisfaction escaped from the back of Megan’s throat. Damn reflexes. “Trying to get me to let go of the mouse?”
“Just trying to see over your shoulder,” Kira replied innocently.
“Are you sure you can see from so far back?”
Kira laughed. “Just read.”
Megan returned to the previous screen. “Hestia’s priestesses were charged with guarding her sacred fire,” she read. “Every home had a hearth honoring the goddess, and every city had a public hearth that was kindled from the perpetual flame kept at the temple at Delphi, which was a shrine to the goddess before it was assumed by the god Apollo. It is believed this ‘forgotten’ goddess was served by several priestesses serving in rotation to keep the flame alive day and night, for it was believed that the city’s fate was tied to Hestia’s fire, and if the fire went out, the city would suffer. The temple was destroyed several times by fire or earthquake.”
Megan clicked on a photo of limestone ruins and pulled up an illustration of what the temple had originally looked like—a round, open structure supported by stone columns that looked very, very familiar. “Temple look like this?” She swiveled to look over her shoulder and see Kira’s reaction.
Kira blinked at the screen. “How did you do that?”
So she was right. It was Hestia. “I told you not to take the mouse away from me.”
“You have control issues.” Kira put her hands on Megan’s shoulders and turned her to face the computer like she was daring her to prove her right.
“You’re just figuring that out now?” Megan tried to swivel back, but Kira’s fingers tightened against her shoulders, resisting with a pressure that shouldn’t have felt so electric. The strength of her, the aliveness of her, all concentrated in that one small touch…
She’d told her she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to break up with her, and she’d meant it. But pretty sure wasn’t completely sure, and they’d both be happier in the long run if they kept that in mind.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Megan said.
Kira released her. “I’ll admit there are some similarities.”
Some? Kira didn’t want to make this easy, did she. “So what’s different? You’re hung up on the sex thing?”
“What I’m hung up on is matching up real history with reincarnation. But since you brought it up, how do they know they were virgins?”
“Who knows? I guess one of the Greek poets must have written about them,” Megan said offhandedl
y. As far as she was concerned, virgins or no, they had found the location of Kira’s dream. And past life. “He could have been misinformed.”
“I’ll bet there were mysteries they didn’t tell outsiders.”
“Mysteries. Right.” Megan smirked.
“You know I’m right. If those priestesses were having sex with each other as part of their rituals, they weren’t about to tell the townfolk.”
“Is this the only part of the dream you feel like talking about?”
“It’s not part of the dream—it is the dream.” Kira’s face scrunched up in thought. “Maybe sex wasn’t even supposed to be part of it.”
No…wait. If sex wasn’t supposed to be part of it, then…“God, you’re probably right. It would explain the situation we’re in now. In this lifetime.”
“Ah, yes, screwing a client.”
She said that so casually. As if it wasn’t a big deal. Screwing your co-priestess wasn’t exactly the same thing as screwing a client, but there was something about it that felt familiar, and Kira seemed to feel it too.
Megan said what she figured they were both thinking. “I want you now because thousands of years ago it wasn’t supposed to happen and it did anyway.”
I want you. She watched that admission hit Kira in the gut, her body crumpling ever so slightly before she caught herself. An echoing desire ricocheted inside her own body. She shouldn’t be saying things like that—not until she was sure.
“Or because it was supposed to happen, so now it feels natural,” Kira countered. “Could go either way, don’t you think?”
She had a point. They still didn’t have any answers about what any of this meant for their future. How was she supposed to figure out what to do when their visions were so frustratingly vague? “You don’t remember if what we did was supposed to be part of the worship?”
“Let’s reenact the ritual,” Kira suggested. “You want more information about who we were in our past lives together. Maybe this will help me remember more details.”
The fire-watching ritual? A knot started in Megan’s stomach. “True…”
“And you get a chance to deal with your fear of fire.”
“Not to mention you get to have sex with me.”
Kira grinned. “Definitely a plus.”
Megan rolled her eyes.
“No, seriously, we don’t have to take it that far.”
“Good, because we’re not going to. We’re not together,” Megan reminded her.
“We could be,” Kira said gently.
Megan shivered.
“I’ll bet you look beautiful in the firelight.” Kira wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked wistful, her eyes out of focus.
Megan had no clue whether this was a good idea or not. But she did know firelight was not her thing.
***
“Ready to play with fire?” Kira asked cheerfully.
“You and your magic circles.” Megan knelt barefoot on Kira’s carpeted living room floor inside a ring of pillar candles. “I feel like I should cast a spell.”
“Go right ahead, my witchy friend.”
“I’m not a witch.” People burned witches. Megan edged closer to the center of the circle to keep as much distance as possible between herself and the lit candles.
“Still not sure what the difference is.”
“Not important. Where did you get all these candles, anyway?” Kira didn’t strike her as a dinner-by-candlelight kind of person.
“I needed a few in case of a power outage, and I was buying in bulk, so…” Kira stepped inside the ring. “Move over,” she said, lowering herself to the floor to kneel opposite her.
Megan’s heart beat faster as she checked behind her and scooted back slightly to give her space. It would be so easy for one of them to accidentally knock over one of the candles, for a spark to land on the carpet, for their clothes to catch fire.
“We need a bonfire if we’re going to do this right,” she said, trying to convince herself she meant it. “If we’re really trying to reenact your dream…”
“I’d rather start small until we know whether you’re going to freak out.”
Too late. All this talk about fire, and now the candles, made it hard to stay calm. Or maybe it was Kira’s proximity that made her jittery.
“Although it would be nice to build a firepit behind the hotel,” Kira continued. “It would be a great place for the guests to hang out, roast marshmallows, relax.”
“Not for me.” Megan shuddered.
“You might surprise yourself one day.”
Megan reached for one of the burning candles and placed it in the center of the circle. “The fire’s between us, right?”
“Right. It’s burning in a pit in the floor.”
Megan shut her eyes, folded her hands in her lap, and ordered herself not to panic. Fire was safety in Hestia’s day. Fire was protection. It meant you weren’t going to die come winter. When did she start thinking of it as a weapon instead of a tool?
Probably after it killed her a few too many times. That would probably do it.
“Want me to move the fire extinguisher closer?” Apparently Kira didn’t think she looked unpanicked enough.
“I’m fine.”
“I can move it if you want me to.”
“No thanks.” Megan imagined floating in the ocean, thinking calm thoughts.
“If you’re nervous about this, we don’t have to do this.”
Megan opened one eye to glare at her. “It was my idea.”
“As a matter of fact,” Kira said, “it was my idea.”
“But I’m the one who wants to know more about what you remember. I won’t freak out. Just tell me what to do, what I do in the dream.”
***
“We both kneel, facing each other…” Kira trailed off, struck by the way Megan had positioned herself within the circle.
Megan was already kneeling. She had her hands in her lap with her palms facing up, one hand on top of the other, thumbs touching. It wasn’t a normal way to rest your hands. It was, in fact, the exact position she was about to describe.
“How did you know how to sit like that?”
Megan shrugged. “It seemed like the priestess-like thing to do. What’s next?”
Okay, so maybe it was coincidence. “We stare into the flame.”
“That’s it? Doesn’t it start with just one of us watching the perpetual flame? I thought the part where both of us watched together was some kind of changing of the guard.”
“How did you know that?”
Megan looked puzzled. “You told me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“I…” Kira shook off her confusion. “So…okay.” She focused on the candle flame, trying to recall the details of her dream. “I stare into the fire until I see the goddess in there and enter a trance. I watch the flame and I wait for you. The goddess waits for you. I’m thinking about you while I’m praying and then at last it’s time, and you walk in, barefoot, and kneel on the other side of the fire.”
It wasn’t the same, staring into a weak candle flame instead of a big, blazing fire, and they weren’t wearing sleeveless white dresses—basically linen sheets draped around the body, held together by a belt tied high beneath the breasts—but the hum of Megan’s presence—of her kneeling across from her, all serious and attentive, waiting for something to happen—felt utterly familiar.
“We were supposed to be looking for the goddess, opening ourselves to her spirit,” Kira continued. “Watching, waiting, praying…and then at some point, instead of staring into the fire, we stared through the fire, and into each other’s eyes, with the flames flickering between us. The goddess was in there and she got all mixed in with my feelings for you, and I couldn’t tell anymore who was who. The heat was inside me and it was you and it was her and I was burning, sweating…” Kira took a ragged breath. “And all I could think about was untying that belt of yours and how the fabric would fall
open…and then you were on top of me, making me feel things I’d never imagined.”
Megan looked up from the candle and locked eyes with her.
Kira couldn’t remember whether they had agreed to reenact that part or not. She was guessing not. She swallowed. “That website said the priestesses were transmuting their sexual energy. I guess that’s what celibacy is supposed to do for men who are monks and priests, right?”
“Yeah. The theory is you block one channel so the energy is forced to move through another channel. I don’t think it works that well, though. You set up this huge pattern of resistance, and the energy just ends up getting stuck.”
“So either the historians are wrong about the virgin priestesses, or my dream is just a dream, because that’s not what we were doing. We weren’t suppressing our sexual energy.”
“We let the energy build up,” Megan agreed. “We watched it the same way we watched the sacred fire, and we let it rush through us, burn us, consume us…until the only thing that made sense was…”
Megan didn’t complete her thought, but she didn’t need to. They both knew what came next.
Megan stood and pulled Kira to her feet and led her outside the ring of candles. “Then we performed the sacred dance.” Megan swayed forward and back, executing a pattern of steps that came straight from Kira’s dream.
Kira mirrored the familiar steps perfectly for a few seconds, then came to an incredulous halt. “Are you reading my mind?”
Megan’s lips quirked with amusement. “No.” She resumed the dance as if it were perfectly natural to know the strange pattern, as if she and every other kid in the state had learned it in third grade along with the steps to the Virginia frickin’ Reel.
“How could you possibly know how to do that?” Kira demanded.
Megan hesitated, and Kira knew she wasn’t going to like her answer.
“I think I’ve had this dream, too.”
Yup, she did not like that answer.
“How could we both have had the same dream?”
Megan drew her eyebrows together in pity.
Kira fought the gorge rising in her throat. She didn’t want to be one of those people who believed in reincarnation. Telepathy was almost preferable. “It’s not a dream, is it?”
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