After ushering him out of the room, Kat practically flew to the window to judge her chances of climbing outside. Her heart sank. Not only would her hips not fit through that frame, but she would have to drop all the way down where a wicked looking tree stump twisted out of the ground. She slinked back to the toilet and did her business. Then she washed her hands and face with the freshly unwrapped bar of soap using the bucket of water. Since the shower was obviously out of the question with no running water, and filling it full of lukewarm well water to bathe in would be quite the hassle, she made do with a quick rinse with the water she had. She’d refill the toilet tank the next time she came up here. And she figured Peter telling her where to find the water meant he wasn’t going to hold her hand as she moved about the house. Or at least she hoped so because convincing him she wouldn’t run provided an opportunity to, well, run.
When she exited the bathroom and joined him at the top of the stairs, Peter picked her up. Kat stiffened, and he explained that the stairs, like most of the house, were in need of repair and dangerous. She didn’t question why he thought putting two people’s weight into one would be any safer but went with it. If they fell through, he’d be a cushion to land on.
Kat observed her surroundings as they descended. The banister was thick and solid wood. It had seen better days. The windows on the first floor were all cracked or broken in. In fact, the only one she’d seen still intact was in the bedroom Peter had taken her to the night before. More leaves were scattered around the first floor. Dense cobwebs hung in all the corners and from the unused light fixtures. Dirty, dusty sheets draped what little furniture remained in the house. There were no pictures on the walls, and other than the room upstairs and the things she noticed crawling through some of the webs, no signs of life existed within.
Peter returned Kat to her feet and reclaimed her hand. Wordlessly, he led her through the next doorway, brushing the cobwebs aside to allow her entry. After she passed through a short, dark corridor, they entered a wide, spacious kitchen and dining area. It had been scrubbed clean. Two plates of eggs and bacon were placed on opposite ends of the long dining room table, which could seat about sixteen people. Along with the food, there were utensils and glasses of orange juice. The food smelled delicious, and glancing at the dish in the center of the table, she saw there was enough for second helpings. He’d cooked for her.
Kat’s mouth watered. She glanced at Peter, seeking an explanation.
“I cleaned it while you slept. Went into town...” He narrowed his eyes. Kat’s first thought was there must a town nearby or he must have a car, which meant getting away wasn’t as futile as she’d assumed. “I flew.”
So much for hoping.
She gestured at the food. “I thought you didn’t have utilities.” Like electricity or gas.
“I don’t. I cooked over a small fire in the yard. Like campers do these days—how people cooked in the past. The juice isn’t cold, but it is freshly squeezed.
Kat decided the thought of Peter gently squeezing the oranges, coaxing the juice from them, was more than she could deal with imagining at the moment. Her filthy mind imagined his hands squeezing her breasts, causing her feminine juices to...well... Since her mind was too easily influenced, she’d throw away her romance novels when she made it home too.
***
Pan led Katerina to the table, pulled out the chair for her, and pushed it in when she was seated. He then took his time strutting to his own chair and sat down, instantly regretting that he’d placed himself at the opposite end rather than next to her. Yet he’d hoped she may appreciate a little space while she came to know him.
He picked up his fork and peeked through his lashes at her. Katerina sat, hands in her lap, scrutinizing him. Pan put his fork down, the clank of silver against the stoneware echoing in the large room. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Her stomach growled in response, making her cheeks pinken. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?”
“If I wanted to kill you, Katerina, you’d be dead already.” This answer seemed to placate her enough. Why would he go through the trouble of cooking only to murder her later? Pan watched as she frowned at her plate and stabbed a fluffy, yellow piece of scrambled egg with a fork before she lifted it off the plate. She sniffed it, turning her blue gaze toward him. She popped the food into her mouth and chewed. Closing her eyes, she sighed.
Damned curse. Surely he wouldn’t have been turned on by a woman eating scrambled eggs without it. Surely.
Satisfied his woman wouldn’t starve to death on his watch, Pan ate his own breakfast. The flavors hit his tongue and he stifled a groan. When was the last time he’d eaten a cooked meal rather than fruit or vegetation? He didn’t have to eat daily to stay alive, but being around humans made him feel awkward if he wasn’t mimicking their actions to blend in. Otherwise, he could go weeks without a single bite to eat. Pan enjoyed food though, and bacon was delicious.
Taking a sip of orange juice, he began wondering how to explain his existence to a human. He’d never had to. Before the curse, gods were accepted by the mortals. The human women and nymphs he’d bedded had known who he was, what he was, and had accepted him for it. After the curse, things became...more difficult. There’d not been a choice in honesty with the human women he’d slept with since then. Pan kept his illusion of human form firmly in place, or did as far as they knew, and left them directly afterward. Still, he hated hiding any aspect of himself.
Meanwhile, Katerina nibbled a piece of crispy bacon, and examined him silently. Neither one said a word. It was... Awkward. A morning after without the benefit of sex the night before. A damned shame, that.
He took another swig of juice and cleared his throat as he returned the glass to the table. Katerina made eye contact with him and quirked a brow. He wasn’t sure if she was simply curious about what he had to say or chastising him for interrupting the meal she finally began enjoying. She had stopped struggling to escape, but she wasn’t happy with him. Her slight frown, in addition, revealed she still viewed the ordeal through skeptical eyes. Pan had seen it before with those who wouldn’t accept the truth though they’d stood directly in front of him.
Beating around the bush wasn’t going to help his cause. Katerina needed to see it. She needed to observe the truth to accept it. As harsh as it was, Pan needed his true nature exposed to her in order to convince her she’d not dreamed it. Satyrs were very real, he was real.
Despite what she saw last night, he’d been sheltering her by staying in human form this morning. He let go of his human appearance only enough to manifest his horns, feeling them curl from the sides of his head, the thick appendages impressive and large like a proud ram’s.
Katerina’s narrowed her eyes into slits. From denial to anger? She had liked Peter. But Pan had taken away her option of normality when he stopped pretending to be an average human male. He would’ve probably gotten farther with her as a man than as himself. As a satyr. Pan scowled at the realization. Perfect human Peter was good enough, but monstrous Pan was not. Yet for some reason he didn’t like the idea of deceiving her. So he wouldn’t.
“I guess it’s high time I introduce myself. Properly this time.”
He waited for Katerina to comment, but she didn’t. She merely watched him, observing, drinking in the scene as calmly as she did her orange juice. At least, he assumed that was the facade she attempted to put forward. Her hand shook when it lifted her glass.
“Long ago, the humans accepted there were higher powers living among them. In ancient Greece, these beings were known as the Olympian gods, descendants of the Titans before them. I was once one of their own, though I did not reside with the rest of the pantheon in their kingdom. Instead, I chose the wilds of the Arcadian forests as my home. Being a nature deity, this wasn’t considered odd by my people. So I lived in the wilderness, amusing myself with the nymphs and becoming a protector, of sorts, to the creatures of the forest. I became the patron god of herdsmen and shepherds, an
d Arcadia—and soon after, all of Greece—came to know me by my given name,” he paused for the drama of it. “Which is Pan.”
Katerina’s eyes widened slightly. Then she snorted and followed it with peals of laughter, reminiscent of his display when he’d told her she was working for Dionysus. She clutched her stomach with one hand and covered her mouth with the other in an attempt to contain herself. But she couldn’t. It only made her start laughing anew when she’d open her eyes and see him there, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
He began to understand her chagrin from his reaction the night before, but it didn’t make him any less irritated now. This was different than learning your boss was a drunken god. He was trying to tell her things he’d not shared in since the Olympians became irrelevant outside of legend, and how did she handle these great revelations? Like he’d told her a grand joke. When she nearly toppled from her chair due the strength of her amusement, his pride ignited indignation.
“What in the name of the gods is so funny?”
“I’m s-sorry.” More cackles. She breathed heavily. “I just can’t believe you th-think you’re a Greek god.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she giggled more. “Suddenly your belief that Mr. Bach is Dionysus is making more sense. You’re insane!”
She was the very definition of infuriating. It didn’t matter that Pan was aware the stress of the situation could be the real culprit behind her hysterical laughter. There was a very real chance she was not insulting him of her on volition, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t like being laughed at unless he had done something worthy of laughter. It was a trait ingrained in Olympian blood; offending a god had consequences, no matter how unintentional the slight had been. Pan would have to put Katerina in her place, but he wouldn’t punish her. No, he had never been one of the truly brutal among his kind.
Pan went full-on satyr, standing up and abandoning the illusion he’d decided to keep in order to protect her sensitive, human modesty. He didn’t think she was aware he’d moved until she opened her eyes, panting from laughter, hunched over on the arm of the chair. Her face was level with his arousal—even her laughter could not diminish his need for her. In fact, her ability to do the opposite of what he’d expected only made him want her more.
Katerina regained her composure and sat ramrod straight in her chair, staring ahead of her rather than at him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath, wiping at the remnants of her tears of merriment.
Pan invaded her space. His cockhead lightly brushed against her arm. Sadly, her sleeve prevented contact, but it was enough to make her visibly swallow in trepidation. Sex was not something he used for intimidation, but he could not think of any other way to bring her to heel after her hysterical laughter. Katerina was safe from him, but she needed to understand she was not the alpha wolf in the room.
“I find it fascinating you still think I’m making things up, yet you have seen me in my true form. Is this something you see often? Can this be explained away with your science and research?” He lifted a leg and wiggled his cloven hoof. She flicked her gaze toward it and back away again.
Katerina didn’t move a muscle after that. She didn’t even blink, though she still stared everywhere but at him. Her cheeks reddened more by the second, and her jaw was clenched. She had the nerve to be angry? After she’d laughed at him?
“Look at me.” He kneeled, grabbing her chin and gently forcing her to obey. “Back in ancient times, your laughter would have been considered an insult to the gods. I was never one who cared so much about what the humans thought, but even I have limits. I am one of the few who never took a mortal life by my own hand. But had I been, I’d have punished you severely for such disrespect. You’d do well to understand how lucky you are that you are in my care and not one of theirs. Dionysus would have abused you in ways your nightmares would not comprehend for such a slight. Remember that next time you wish to compare me to your precious Mr. Bach.”
She glared at him as he stood. “If you wave your dick in my face one more time, I swear to God, I will bite it off.”
Such fire! Pan controlled the urge to laugh at her boast and, leveling his face with hers. “I was cursed, along with twenty-three other men, over a misunderstanding with another god. He thought I had insulted him. And so I was punished. I realized what was about to occur as it happened. I even tried to fight it, prevent it. I attempted to counter the curse, but it backfired. Because I refused to live among the gods, I never quite got the full handle on my abilities, and I never regretted it more than in that moment. The curse affected every man present and resulted in the creation of the Satyroi race I mentioned last night. Despite how I look, I am not really a hybrid of man and beast.”
He took a few steps back and resumed the guise of the Jersey Devil. Wings, tail, and glowing red eyes amplified his horrid features, creating a truly demonic facade. “This,” he said through sharp, gritted teeth, “is what I was meant to look like if the curse had struck full force. Because of my abilities, I can call it forward. Sometimes, when I lose control of my anger, it happens on its own.”
Katerina gasped, her horror apparent in her wide eyes. At least she was over the blatant denial.
Pan returned to his human glamour, dressed in jeans. He wished he could remain in this form at all times, but he couldn’t. The horns never really bothered him. The hairy, hoofed legs did. “Luckily for me, the horns and hooves aren’t quite as extreme as the chaotic mixture of appendages belonging to the Jersey Devil. And I can still take a human form, thank the gods.”
He crossed his arms and spoke before she could comment, “So before you find amusement in my plight, before you doubt all you have seen, know the reason this happened was because I made love to the wrong woman at the wrong time. A woman, who was promised to another. Because of my mistake, several people were forced to unjustly endure the consequences of my actions. And I have to live with that knowledge every damn day.”
Pan turned on his heel and stormed across the room. He slammed through the front doors as he headed into the open courtyard beyond them. Realizing he had no idea what he was doing, why he took Katerina, and what he would do with her, he went to the one place on the property that was sure to distract him from his newest problem by ambushing him with mistakes of his past. The truth was, no matter how badly he wanted Katerina, she would never have him. But he couldn’t convince himself to let her go. For the first time in a very long time, Pan felt truly lost.
Chapter Eight
Kat hesitated on the doorstep of the dilapidated house and spied on Peter—she couldn’t accept his claims of being the god Pan—as he picked up debris, removing it from the marble fountain. She bit her lip and shifted from one foot to the other and exhaled in a huff. If Peter had wanted to harm her, he would have. He said as much himself. While he’d frightened her and left the Martinezes in an upheaval of distress, he hadn’t injured anyone.
Cindy and Rick have probably called the military in already.
Basically, she had two options of survival since Peter had promised to catch her if she ran away, and she was sure he could, given his wings and unnatural abilities. The first option was to fight him and be uncooperative, which could lead to his giving up and leaving her alone with no food...or merely offing her when she irritated him one time too many. The second was to at least listen to what he had to say. Maybe if she was complaisant he would realize he was being idiotic and let her go.
She could then get away or at least send someone to help him. Though she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be the one committed to an institution if she told anyone about a man in the woods who was a satyr, a Greek god, and the legendary Jersey Devil all in one. Hell, just thinking it sounded insane.
She didn’t like the idea of giving in, but she wouldn’t surrender and die. She’d survived a cougar attack, and if she could do that, she could survive playing house with a satyr...as long as he kept his pants on. First and foremost, she needed more information. He’d only given her the short v
ersion earlier. She still had questions, and she knew some of the answers he had wouldn’t please her. Hiding from the truth was a cowardly approach, and Peter was clearly something supernatural in nature, even though the idea of ancient gods existing in real life was a concept she wasn’t ready to accept. What did that mean about other religions? She was a Christian. She believed there was, and has always been, one true God. Was Pan’s existence confirmation of a higher power, or did it contradict everything in her faith? Furthermore, if she accepted everything in the Bible, why could she not accept the idea of satyrs and curses?
Maybe because blind faith is much easier than witnessing magic first hand.
Kat fidgeted, completely conflicted about faith, about her circumstances, about everything. Peter wasn’t paying attention to her, so if she sneaked around the back of the house she could easily make a break for it. Freedom was so close she could taste it, but it had a bitter taste.
Kat had seen the look in his eyes and the hurt when she’d laughed. He was baring the truth of his existence to her, and anyone living with an affliction that had them walking on hooves like an animal rather than feet like a man had to be a bit sensitive about it.
She wondered why he didn’t stay in his human form all the time. He’d said it was a curse, so maybe holding the human appearance was difficult for him to maintain. Maybe he hadn’t kidnapped her for nefarious purposes at all.
Maybe he just needed a friend.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes in a silent prayer, and took a step forward. And then another. She fell into a steady gait that eventually brought her face-to-face with Peter, who paused as he bent to retrieve another handful of debris. Kat stood tall, hands clasped in front of her. Peter straightened as well and crossed his arms again, a stance he seemed to favor—he tended to fall back on the intimidating male posturing. Let him. Men liked to pretend they had the upper hand. It made them feel in control and balanced. She’d allow it...for a while. After she had her answers, she might knock him off-balance a bit with her inner smartass. He deserved it.
The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection Page 8
