Pursued by the Gods

by Rebekah Murdock

  Hell, I was afraid of falling in love with one person, let alone multiple.

  It gave me pause. I wanted her still, there was no doubt about that, and I still felt that there had been something more to the connection I’d felt than just lust. But this meant that even if I succeeded in winning her affections, I could never truly hope to be a part of her life unless her other lovers accepted me, too. While I was certain Ravenna was a woman who knew her own mind and would be dictated to by no one, I also knew in an abstract sort of way that sharing your life with someone meant taking their opinions into account. I already knew what Isa’s opinion of me was. I didn’t doubt that whoever this other man was, his would be much the same.

  It gave me pause, but it wasn’t enough to deter me. If Ravenna told me she wanted nothing to do with me, I would leave it be. But until then, I knew that I had to try.

  If I didn’t, I would spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been.

  6

  Ravenna

  The rest of the night had been a blur, and not entirely because of the odd interaction with Toven. It would have been busy enough on its own, customers in and out, drinks ordered, spilt, and drunk. Isa had remained tense and wary. It had been difficult for me to extract a promise from him not to tell Kavi about Toven. But I knew that if Kavi felt even the slightest hint of danger, he would want to run again. And I was tired of running, ready to stay in one place for a little while. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving again so soon. There was something about Toven that I couldn’t quite put my finger on—but I didn’t think he was dangerous. After living for so long, I had to believe that I could trust my own intuition that far. And I needed Isa to trust it, too.

  Once I had fallen into bed, it took a long time for me to fall asleep. But when I did, it was while thinking about the strange night, about Toven and what I’d felt when I’d caught his eyes, wrapped in Isa’s arms. But it was Kavi that I dreamt about.

  ---

  The morning before I went down to the stream, I refused the proposal of marriage that had been offered to me. When my father called me to him, asking me why I had led a great warrior of his to believe I wanted him when I did not, I said only that I had believed I would marry him, but I had been warned in a dream that I should not. My people took dreams very seriously, and that was all that my father needed.

  It was not a lie.

  I went to the stream just before the sun was highest in the sky, when I had asked Whcha’ri—Kavi—to meet me. I stood at the edge of the water, my bare toes digging into the soft silt of the riverbank, and I took a deep breath. This was my choice, but that did not mean it was his. I could yet be rejected. But I had to try.

  I shed my clothes, until I was bare to the sun and wind, my long hair trailing over my shoulders and down my back. I waded into the water, the sharp chill of it piercing me to the bone, and I stood in the center of the stream, facing away from the bank, until at last I heard him. He believed himself noiseless, but I always knew when he was there.

  “Taki?” His voice was hesitant, wondering, as he called me by the nickname that he had for me. “Taki, what are you doing?”

  “My mother came to me in a dream one moon ago,” I said, my voice carrying to him. “She said that I should not choose the man who had offered me marriage by the embers of the fire, who would go to my father and ask for my hand, that it did not matter if he were good, or kind, or that he would not stray from my fire, that he is well liked and well-trusted. She said I would know the man that I would love, the man that I should choose, and that he is the one I should bind myself to, and no other. Today, I told my father that I could not marry that man.” I turned slowly, my hair covering me so that Whcha’ri saw very little besides the pale slope of my shoulders and waist, and my arms as they hung close to my sides. “I want you, Whcha’ri. You, and no other.”

  For a long moment, he neither moved nor spoke, frozen in place, but his eyes betrayed everything that he didn’t say. They roamed over me hungrily, snatching up every bit that he could see, like a starving man who sees a feast that he is afraid he may never have the chance to partake in again. “Come here,” I whispered, but I knew he could hear me. “Tell me that you feel the same way.”

  For one heart wrenching moment, I had thought that he would deny me, or that he would simply turn and disappear.

  “Taki,” he said, his voice trembling. “I am not a mortal man.”

  “I know,” I said, raising my chin defiantly. “And I don’t care.”

  He came to me then. He came in a rush, still clothed in his deerskin pants, his hands going to my face as he bent to kiss me. I raised my face to his, my hands going to the leather tie that held his braid, undoing it until it fell around him in the same dark curtain as mine.

  “I love you,” I whispered against his mouth, whispering it again and again as his fingers trailed through my hair, pushing it away from my body, his hands going over my collarbone down to my breasts with the sort of reverence that one might give when worshipping a goddess.

  Somehow, we were on the grass at the side of the riverbank, his deerskin pants gone, and he was hovering over me, his hands and lips and tongue everywhere that I had ever dreamed of them being in the darkest, quietest parts of the night. When he at last rose over me, his eyes hot and dark with desire, hard and throbbing at the juncture of my thighs, he hesitated, his hand touching my cheek. “This is what you want?” he whispered softly. “Truly?”

  “I’ve never been with any other man,” I murmured, meeting his eyes with my own, and I knew that the desire he felt was reflected there. “You are the one I want, Whcha’ri. You are the one I choose.”

  There was no waiting after that, nothing to hold him back or stem the tide of wanting. He surged within me, hot and hard, filling me until I thought I could take no more, and my body convulsed around him, my hands clinging to him as I felt first pain, and then pleasure, the kind I had often felt under my own touch when I was alone. He moved as slowly as he could, until I heard myself begging him, urging him on, and then he plunged into me, until I forgot how to tell where I ended and he began, and our flesh was mingled in a way that I had never dreamed it could be with another person.

  When it was over, and he lay next to me in the grass, I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in the scent of him, the sweet smell of water, crushed grass and sweat mingled together. “Do you remember when we met?” I whispered, tracing a finger down his chest, over the smooth olive skin.

  “How could I forget?” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You knew what I was when I told you my name. But you weren’t afraid of me.”

  “The spirit in the water.” I breathed in the scent of the river around us, knowing that for the rest of my life, it would remind me of him. “Of course I knew you by name. My mother used to tell me stories about you. I remember them. I was very young when she died.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “It’s a hard thing, to lose someone you love,” he said finally, his voice hushed.

  “My father said that it was a part of being mortal, that the gifts the spirits give come with a high price.” I pressed my lips to his chest again. “And now I have someone else to love.” I looked up at him, at his peaceful face, his dark hair strewn around him in the grass and leaves. “Don’t go,” I whispered.

  “Taki, I will never leave you,” he promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But what will your father say?”

  And therein lay the question. I could not bring a stranger to our camp and tell my father that he was my chosen husband, and I could no more tell him that I had met the spirit of the waters and made him my own than I could tell him that I was a goddess myself. He would not have believed it, and I would have been made a laughingstock. “I don’t know what to do,” I said, burying my nose into his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I only know that I can’t bear it if we are not together.”

  “We will find a way,” he promised me. “For now, we will keep it secret.
This will be our place, among the trees. We will think of what to do next.”

  So we stayed there until the air turned cold with the late afternoon and I could stay no longer, and I had to return to camp.

  We will find a way, he had promised me. And I believed him.

  ---

  I woke in the dark, in our house in Las Vegas, the sound of Isa’s snores close to my ear, and for a moment I could still smell the fresh scent of the river, the sweet scent of crushed grass where our bodies had lain. I felt Kavi shift next to me, and I rolled towards him. “Are you awake?” I whispered, reaching out for his hand in the darkness.

  “Yes,” he whispered back, unmoving, but his fingers curled around mine. “I dreamed of you,” he said quietly, careful not to wake Isa. “I dreamed of the day we first met, in the clearing. You had just shot that rabbit.”

  I choked back a laugh, moving closer to him. He raised his arm, and I lay my head on his chest, the familiar warmth of his naked body a comfort. “I dreamed of you too,” I murmured, letting go of his hand to trace a pattern on the smooth skin of his chest.

  “Oh?” He turned to look at me, the lines of his face just barely visible in the darkness. His hand went to my hip, sliding over the curve of it aimlessly.

  “Mine was the day you met me at the stream.” I didn’t look up at him, but I felt his hand tighten on my hip, and I knew that he knew exactly what day I was talking about.

  “The day you said you had chosen me,” he said softly. “Have you ever regretted that, Taki?”

  The sound of my nickname jolted me, and I looked up at him with alarm. “We can’t use our true names, Kavi. Not out loud, not ever. You know that. It was you who told me.”

  He shrugged. “It’s only a nickname. And perhaps they can’t hear us, here, of all places.” He pulled me closer to him, his other hand touching my hair softly. “I miss hearing my name on your lips.” His fingers trailed down the hollow of my waist and back over my hip. “I miss hearing you gasp it when I would first slide inside of you, wet as the river that day.” He pressed his lips to my hair. “I miss being ourselves.”

  “I am yours,” I whispered. “You are mine. That’s the only self that matters.” I kissed his shoulder gently. “I have never regretted it. Not for a single moment in all the years that have passed since.”

  “I took you away from everything. I took you away from your home, your people…you gave it all up. For me, and for Isa.”

  “So did you,” I insisted. “And so did he. We’ve all sacrificed in order to be here. Do you regret it?” I rose up slightly on my elbow, looking down at him in the darkness.

  “Of course not.” He pulled me down onto him again, threading his fingers through my hair. “There’s no hardship that could ever make me regret leaving with you, Ravenna. There is nothing that could ever be worse than losing you.”

  “I feel the same way,” I said firmly. “When I said I chose you to be the man I would bind my life to, I meant it.”

  “You didn’t know then how long your life could be.”

  “I meant it,” I repeated. “For a thousand lifetimes and a thousand more, Kavi. And another thousand, if it comes to that.” I kissed his cheek, and then snuggled into him, closing my eyes. “Go to sleep, Kavi. The morning isn’t so far off.”

  I began to drift back into exhaustion, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling me back to sleep. Just before I lost myself to it, I felt his lips against my hair. “A thousand, and a thousand more,” I heard him whisper, and then I slept, dreamless and peaceful.

  7

  Toven

  I had told myself I wouldn’t go back to the bar again, but I found myself there the next night, standing across the street, looking to see if the formidable bouncer was standing at the door.

  He wasn’t, replaced by a thin beanpole of a man who had no business working as security for anything, much less a bar in a somewhat questionable area of town. I felt a rush of excitement deep in my stomach as I realized there was a chance I might see her again, and I swallowed hard, trying to push it down. I strode across the street, giving the man my best, most charming smile as I approached the door. I wouldn’t have put it past Ravenna’s guard dog to tell his replacement—however temporary—not to let me into the bar.

  The man gave me a quizzical glance but simply stood aside to let me in. I walked past him, my heart pounding in my chest as I walked up and ordered my usual drink, hoping against hope to see Ravenna pass by. The same blonde who I’d spoken to before was serving at the bar, and I thought better of asking if Ravenna was there. If she was, I’d see her soon enough.

  I’d no sooner settled at a table with my glass of whiskey than I saw her step out of the swinging doors at the back, her hair in that same tight braid that fell nearly to the small of her back, this time wearing a shirt that fit much better. I’d never seen anyone make such a ridiculous outfit look as good as she did. I looked away before she could catch my gaze, not wanting it to look as if I were staring. I could feel my pulse in my throat now, beating so hard that it almost hurt, and for a moment I thought of abandoning my drink and leaving the bar. No one should make me feel this way, least of all a woman already spoken for, a woman who sparked something in me that felt dangerous and undeniable all at once.

  She’ll bring me nothing but trouble, I thought, and I knew that it was true. I should follow my gut, and walk away, never come back here, never speak to the dark-haired woman named Ravenna again.

  But I couldn’t. I stayed glued to my seat, my knuckles almost white as I gripped the glass of whiskey, and I tried not to look at her.

  I’d unwittingly chosen a table in her section, and I flinched as I saw her heading my way. In another moment she’d see me, and it would be the moment that told our tale, I was sure. I’d know then if she was angry that I was there or not, and if she was, this would be the last night I saw her after all, whether I wanted to or no. I wasn’t in the habit of chasing women who didn’t want me.

  She stopped dead the moment she saw me, and the expression that flickered over her face was unreadable—but not the anger or fear that I’d worried it might be. I wasn’t sure if it was a pleased expression or not, but as she walked towards me, I knew she at the very least wasn’t angry. I had no doubt that Ravenna was a woman who would let you know if she was.

  “Toven,” she said neutrally as she reached my table, her hand resting on the edge of the wood. I had a sudden mad desire to reach out and take it, to feel the warmth of her skin against my palm, to interlace her long, thin fingers with mine.

  “Ravenna,” I breathed her name in a way that I hadn’t meant to, and as I saw a bemused smile creep across her face, I regretted it immediately. I felt foolish, and I realized that she made me feel that way more often than not. The charming, suave man who so frequently swept women and men off of their feet was nowhere to be found with her, and it was one of the most disconcerting things about this whole situation. She threw me off guard in a way that I’d never experienced before.

  “Toven, you shouldn’t be here,” she said gently. “Isa is gone tonight, but he’ll be back soon, and you know how he feels about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  I felt a small thrill at those words, at the knowledge that she cared that much, at least, and I winced at it.

  So she doesn’t want to see one of her boyfriends beat you to a pulp. That’s a very low bar. It doesn’t mean she’s falling for you.

  “It’s the full moon,” I said. “I knew he wouldn’t be here.”

  She flinched and stepped away. “What do you mean?” she said carefully, in a way that told me that she knew exactly what I meant.

  “Ravenna, I’m not stupid.” I tapped my finger against my glass. “I know a shifter when I see one.”

  I saw every muscle in her body tense, and I knew that I had shown a card that I shouldn’t have. “They’re not uncommon, Ravenna,” I said. “Don’t worry, if he’s hiding it, I won’t tell anyone. He should really be more careful,
though.”

  “He is careful,” she said through her teeth, her voice suddenly sharp and cutting. “Who are you, Toven? How do you know what the markers of a shifter are? Are you a bounty hunter?”

  I couldn’t keep myself from laughing, a sharp snort that made her tense and take another step back. “No,” I said, forcing the laughter down. “I’m not a bounty hunter. Not any kind of hunter.”

  “Then who are you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her weight shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

  “I asked you the same question, not too long ago,” I said softly. “Looks like we’re at an impasse, Ravenna.”

  “And it’s going to stay that way.” She shook her head. “Get your drinks from the bar, Toven. I’m not coming back over here tonight.”

  She started to turn away, and I felt a sharp pang of regret. “Ravenna, I’m sorry.” I did reach out for her hand then. I grabbed it in mine before she could slip away, and she froze in place, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “Don’t go,” I said softly. “Not yet.”

  She looked at me, and I saw some faint regret in her eyes, the wish that things could be different. “I can’t, Toven,” she said softly. “Maybe in some other life.”

  I let her hand slip out of mine, wanting all the while to ask: Why not this one? She was afraid of something, I could see it in her face as she turned away, but I had no idea what. Was it this place, this town? Few of those who made their home here were entirely human, and to stay here, you had to be running from something much worse.