She stood in front of the group, the vanguard for those who were chained to various trees at the edge of the woods. She was attempting one last bid for reason. But Mars had her cornered, and she knew it. He’d seized the opportunity to use the unfortunate fire to push through his agenda.
She scanned the scene. Besides his own vehicle, he had brought a land mover, a tree feller, and a massive chipper to grind her beloved woods down to mulch. Her chest tightened.
“Fine,” she said. “Call the police if you want. But I’m not going anywhere. And neither is your equipment.”
She pulled out the handcuffs that were her part of Plan B, marched up to the tree feller machine that sat idling, and cuffed herself to a metal rod on the front of it.
“What the hell are you doing?” a guy called down from his high seat up inside the feller. “You’ll get yourself killed!”
“If that’s what she wants,” Mars said, storming up to her. “You’re not going to win this time. I’ve got the law on my side—and that feller you just cuffed yourself to outweighs you by twenty-five tons.”
“A feller I’m stuck in front of,” she said. “Since you’re so big on having the law on your side, I don’t think they’d appreciate you running over someone engaged in peaceful protest.”
“Peaceful?” He glowered at her. “You’ve just attached yourself to my personal property. And these idiots are chained to trees that don’t belong to them.”
“These woods belong to us all,” Rogan called out. He, too, was chained to a tree.
Mars sneered. “Not anymore.” He let out a shrill whistle by pulling his lower lip over his teeth. “Let’s do this,” he called up.
The man seated at the wheel of the feller looked at Salina. “I can’t move now,” he said.
“Do it. Back up. She’ll move if she wants to keep her arm attached.”
“No way, boss. No fucking way. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”
The guy switched off the machine and jumped down from the cab. “It’s not worth hurting someone.”
“I’ve got five million on the line,” Mars said, jabbing a thumb toward his chest. “And I’ve got permits telling me that these jackasses don’t have a leg to stand on.” He turned to Salina. “Which might become a fact if you don’t get the hell out of the way.”
“You can’t threaten me like that,” she said. “You’ve got witnesses listening to you right now, unlike how you thought you could catch me alone at home and bully me into backing down.”
“What’s she talking about?” Rogan asked.
“Nothing that wasn’t handled,” Salina said, trying to shove away thoughts of just who had handled it. This was hardly the time to be pining over a god who didn’t want her. “And then Mars slunk away like the coward he is.”
“Coward, eh?” he said, heading for the middle of the machine. He climbed up into the cab. “We’ll see.”
The feller roared to life, and he gunned the engine. She sucked in a breath. “Are you insane?” she called out. “You can’t run me over in front of all these people.”
The machine jerked forward, but barely an inch, just enough to send her heart into her throat and Salina trying to jump back.
“Stop!” Rogan shouted, struggling with his chains. “Get the hell odd that thing, Mars.”
“Come on, Salina,” Mars said, gaining another inch. “Admit this is over. Uncuff yourself before you get hurt.”
“We already called the local newspaper,” Andrea called out. “If you so much as give her a hangnail, they’ll be here to splash pictures of it all over the front page.”
“The cops are on the way too,” one of Mars’ workers said. “You’ll all be arrested.”
Mars hung himself out of the cab. “I said, get the hell out of the way!”
“We have a right to protest,” one of the others called out.
“Not by chaining yourselves to private property,” he said. “Last warning.”
“No,” Salina said. “We’re all here to fight for this land, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“Then you can pay the consequences.”
She gasped, afraid to know what he meant. He had to be bluffing. There was no way he would actually harm her in front of all these witnesses—and with police on the way, if his worker was to be believed.
Everyone cried out more or less in unison. Andrea shrieked. Mars’ eyes went wide as he gaped at something over Salina’s shoulder. Afraid to take her attention off the maniac, she didn’t turn around to see what it was.
“What in the hell?” he murmured. “How?”
“Behold,” Rogan shouted. “The horned god comes seeking vengeance against those who would destroy the forest he rules.”
Salina froze. “Feillor,” she murmured, wanting to turn her head but unable to move.
“All hail Feillor, son of Herne,” Rogan continued.
A few of the others, no doubt the pagans, cried out to him too. “Help us, god of the forest!”
“He’s no god,” Mars said, though he appeared visibly shaken. “I saw him before without any antlers. It’s just a trick.”
“How do you explain him appearing out of nowhere?” Rogan shouted.
Mars glared. “Computers, maybe. Mirrors.”
The door of the cab flew open, and Mars yelped like an injured puppy. Apparently, he hadn’t opened the door of his own accord.
“Get out of that monstrous machine, human,” Salina heard, and the hair on her arms stood on end. It was Feillor’s voice, there was no doubt.
The feller went dead, and Mars glanced at the dashboard in shock. Clearly, he hadn’t been the one to turn it off.
“Come forth now.”
He slid out of the seat and dropped to the ground with a loud gasp. Now that she wasn’t about to get run down, Salina turned around. Feillor stood in their midst, but he didn’t appear quite the same as the man who had left her a short while earlier. Here was the god she’d seen reaping the fields, with large horns and glowing eyes that appeared brighter than ever. His very skin had a shimmer about it, what she could see of it through the opening of a long, intricately embroidered silk robe. In the crook of his elbow he held the sacred loaf, which shone unnaturally.
Her heart thumped against her chest. He had returned here, to her, with the bread still intact. He hadn’t gone off to do the ritual with someone else. At least, not yet. Had he merely interrupted that to help preserve the forest?
“Why are faithful keepers of the old ways bound in chains?” Feillor asked, and with a wave of his hand, all of them clattered to the ground. Salina’s cuffs popped open, and she slid her wrist out. Several protesters dropped to their knees. Some were sobbing.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Mars said, his voice shaken. “Playing God in an attempt to scare us off?”
Feillor turned to the man, and the fire in his gaze even frightened Salina. He had yet to look her in the eye, making her wonder about whether he did, in fact, intend to do the ritual with someone else.
He advanced on Mars until he loomed over the man. “I do not play at being a god. I am a god.” He inhaled deeply, as if he was sniffing the man. “But you have played at something far more dangerous in an attempt to satisfy your greed.”
Shouts came from the woods, and they turned to see the sheriff’s department had arrived. Two deputies accompanied the sheriff, each holding night sticks. “Freeze!” the sheriff said. “Everyone show us your hands. Now.”
The group complied, although Feillor appeared confused. Instead of lifting his hands, he held out his palms as if showing a school Headmaster that he’d cleaned them sufficiently.
“What’s going on here?” the sheriff asked, frowning at Feillor as he eyed the horns. “Some kind of protest?”
“I’m Shawn Mars, and I have a permit for land clearing,” Mars said. “These fools are trespassing.”
“You are the authorities?” Feillor asked, barely allowing Mars to finish. “Then you should be awar
e that this man has committed a vile crime.”
“I’m not the criminal here,” Mars spat. He jabbed a finger at Salina. “This bitch incited these people into chaining themselves to trees. They’re trying to stop a sanctioned clearing project.”
“Nobody is chained to anything,” Salina said. She turned to Feillor. “What crime?”
“There was a fire last night that almost burned down Salina’s home while she slept inside,” Feillor said, still looking at the sheriff. “I think you will discover the blaze was no accident—and that this man started it in order to gain the right to tear down the woods.”
Salina’s eyes shot wide. “What?”
Feillor glowered at the man. “Or perhaps you merely wanted revenge after coming to Salina’s home and threatening her.”
Mars gave a loud cackle. “This is ridiculous! You have no proof I started that fire. Nobody even knows it was arson.”
The sheriff eyed Mars. “Actually, the initial investigation shows it was likely intentionally set. We just don’t know exactly how.”
“A chemical was used to accelerate the flames,” Feillor said. “I smelled the odor of it when the fire started. Mars has the scent of it on him even now.” He wandered toward the SUV and inhaled. “I believe you will find residue in his vehicle as well.”
“This is fucking nonsense,” Mars said, spittle flying from his lips. “He’s just some crazy bastard wearing reindeer antlers. Surely you aren’t going to listen to this?”
The sheriff stepped closer, his hand resting now on his holster. “Where were you last night around nine o’clock, Mr. Mars?”
Mars blinked, glancing with wild eyes between the Sheriff and Feillor. Then he did that absolute worst thing possible, given the situation. He grabbed Salina, shoved her at the sheriff and his deputies, and ran.
Rogan made a lunge for him, but Mars punched him in the jaw before heading into the woods. The deputies took off after him, but they were already far behind. Feillor took one step forward, reached out with his hand, and closed his fist with a twist and yank. Mars stopped, his body jerked violently, and then he turned, his eyes wide and feet kicking, as he somehow floated back to the group a couple inches off the ground.
The deputies stopped, hands on their guns, staring at the impossible sight. Feillor’s eyes were narrow, his expression tight while he used his powers in front of everyone to bring Mars back.
“Down on the ground!” one of the deputies yelled, and the other’s head whipped toward his partner for a moment. “Hands in the air!”
Mars was dropped in front of them moments later, where he was shoved down, handcuffed, and led to the squad car.
“I’ll need your, uh, statements,” the sheriff said, his eyes on Feillor. “Especially yours. How did you do that?”
“He’s a god,” Salina said. “Whether or not people choose to believe in them, the gods of the old ways do exist. And they will, when called upon, act to protect the balance of nature that man has tried so hard to destroy.”
Feillor extended a hand to the sheriff, who just eyed it. Instead, he laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, clasping it tighter when he tried to pull back. “Do not be so quick to follow the human tendency to dismiss things not readily understood.” He removed his hand and finally, his eyes met Salina’s. Her stomach tightened at the intensity of that gaze, her pulse speeding as his energy seemed to mingle with hers. “The gods walk among you and the altars you have built. They will appear to the faithful, sometimes when you least expect it.”
With that, he took hold of his pendant and vanished, and gasps of shock went up all around. The sheriff waved his arms in the air, as though he might find that Feillor was invisible but present.
A floating sensation filled Salina’s chest, almost raising her from the ground the way Feillor had lifted Mars. His final words hadn’t just been a message to the people, they had been for her. His departure was temporary, and she knew right where to find him. After hurrying her way through the fierce questioning in the aftermath of Feillor’s impossible actions, she hustled off to do just that.
***
Feillor heard her footsteps approach, and a smile touched his lips. When he saw her emerging into the small clearing where he had set up her outdoor altar much the way he had remembered it, his heart quickened.
“You’re here,” she said, her smile shooting a twinge of need into his groin. “I was right in thinking you were giving me a message when you disappeared on everyone earlier.”
“I am sorry for that. I thought it best in order to prove my power as well as avoid further questions.”
Her skirt, blowing in a soft breeze, swayed around her as she stopped in front of him. “And before that, when you disappeared from my house?” she asked, her head down while she stared near his feet. “Did you think that was best too?”
“That was not by my own doing.” He lifted her chin with a finger. “The Fates chose that moment to return me to the other realm. The three days were up.”
Their eyes held, creating an odd, sinking sensation in his chest that was both exhilarating and terrifying. “Oh. Well in that case, their timing sucks.”
He smiled. “Indeed. I am sorry if that caused you distress.”
She shivered just slightly. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about me, or that you’d never wanted me to be part of the ritual and just didn’t want to say so.”
He shook his head. “I did not abandon you because I did not want you, Salina. Nothing could be farther from the truth.”
Their lips met, and the question she’d been about to ask evaporated. Everything faded around them, and all she cared about was the feel of his hot and seeking mouth, his tongue sliding between her parted lips, demanding entrance. His body was warm and hard when he pulled her against him, his cock rigid enough to prompt a moan from her throat while she grabbed his ass and ground herself on his pelvis.
The growl he let out sent tingles over her arms, but he wound his fingers through her long hair and pulled her away. “The ritual,” he said.
“Isn’t this it?”
His smile almost took her out at the knees. He slid his robe off his shoulders, leaving him in just the loin cloth. He grabbed her hand and knelt before her altar, pulling her down beside him. The sacred bread sat in the center, with candles lit on either side. A goblet of some ruby fluid, wine, probably, was there as well. Flowers and wheat buds had been artfully arranged in a circle around the bread, and three long wheat stalks lay alongside.
He raised his arms and called out a prayer in a language she didn’t know. Feillor took the loaf and held it up to her. “The god of Lammas asks you to share in the breaking of bread,” he said, staring into her eyes until she swayed on her knees. “And in a celebration of bounty. Will you share my harvest—and my body?”
She swallowed and stood up. “I do. I mean, I will.”
With that, she shrugged off the dress, letting it fall to the ground. He sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide when she stood there, naked, with him on his knees.
She sank down again, feeling a heady sensation when he let out a small moan at the sight of her. He guided her hand to take hold of the loaf, and together they held it. He plucked up the three wheat stalks, winding each in a figure eight over and around their hands and the bread, binding them to the loaf and to each other.
His large, deft fingers pulled a corner of the bread off. She was shocked to find wisps of steam rising from the center, and the heavenly scent followed. It was still as hot and fresh as when he’d first baked it. Of course, this was no ordinary loaf.
Not sure what to do, she hesitated, waiting for the god of harvest to lead the way. He raised the bread to her lips, and she accepted his offering, letting the warm, soft bread roll around on her tongue. It was rich and hearty, yet delicate enough to practically melt. The taste, the aroma, and the very act of having him feed it to her set her desire for him ablaze. His eyes never left hers while he lifted the goblet, guiding her to sip
wine that was like nothing that could be manifested on earth.
When he nodded, she tore off a piece of the loaf too, and with her hands shaking, she held it up to Feillor’s lips. Her heart jumped when he opened, taking in the offering with a sweep of his tongue that brushed her fingers. His hands had to steady hers when she raised the cup to offer him a drink.
He laid the goblet aside, still watching her. Her cheeks flamed with heat, her body cried out for his touch. Hopefully, there wasn’t any more to this ritual aside from finally being taken by the god who had completely and utterly seduced her, mind and body.
When he didn’t move, when he just stared at her with a hungry gaze, she couldn’t take it anymore. She had kissed him, had agreed to share his body and bared herself naked to him. What else did she have to do?
“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” she whispered. “Or do I have to pray to the gods to beg for you?”
“No,” he said. “But I might.”
He reached out and slid his hand behind her neck, pulling her to him. He tasted of the wine and miracle bread when their mouths collided, and this time it was Salina who thrust her tongue between his lips. All her patience was gone, all decorum for sacred pagan ritual expended, and thank all gods old and new, Feillor’s seemed to be as well. He guided her down to the forest floor, lying alongside her, and let his free hand wander in a glorious exploration of her curves. She cried out when his fingers grazed her breast, finding her nipples already hard and waiting. He pinched them, making her squirm, and her hands shot out to caress his hard muscles. Every bit of him was rigid, even quivering, while she let her nails rake gently down his immortal flesh.
“Gods, Salina,” he murmured, running a finger in circles around her full breast. “I feel as though I have waited forever for this.”
“Too long.”
She ran her hand all the way down to the bottom of his loin cloth, resting for a moment on the back of his thigh. Smiling against his lips, she pushed her hand upward, inside the flimsy waist wrap, shaking against him when he squeezed her breast tight in response to her finding his bare, round ass. He pressed his erection against her and she pulled him closer, kneading his cheeks in a way that reminded her of their bread making.
Feillor: God of Lammas (Sons of Herne, #6) Page 10
