by Rosalie Redd
“I need to return to the Otherworld for a while, but I’ll come back soon.” Before Pwyll or his commander could react, she bolted down the pathway, intent on retrieving Equus and returning to the Otherworld. Somehow, she needed to figure out how to unwind this mess she’d created.
CHAPTER 3
Rhiannon squirmed in the vanity’s chair and smoothed her hands over her dress’s fine satin material. The soft cloth tickled her fingers, and although she enjoyed how the confining garment clung to her curves, she hated that it was to showcase her physical attributes to a god she’d never met.
What about her brain? Her personality? Her strong will?
“Stop fidgeting.” Mother twined Rhiannon’s hair between her fingers, tugging the strands into a tight braid. “Gwawl will arrive soon, and you must be ready for the formal proposal.”
“Must I?” Rhiannon glanced into the mirror and met her mother’s gaze in the reflection.
A tight line formed along Jereni’s lips. “If there was another way, don’t you think your father would’ve taken it? He only wants the best for you, for everyone.”
The bitter taste of guilt coated the back of Rhiannon’s throat, and she couldn’t maintain eye contact with her mother any longer. She glanced at her own reflection. Wisps of her black hair, the color of a raven’s wings, framed her face and accentuated her high cheekbones, but stress had taken its toll as evidenced by the dark circles under her eyes.
Jereni pinned Rhiannon’s long braid into a swirled bun at the back of her head. She stepped away, gripped Rhiannon’s hand, and encouraged her to stand.
Rhiannon complied and straightened the tight dress around her hips.
“You look lovely.” Jereni’s wide smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Realization hit Rhiannon with a hard slap. This wasn’t easy for her mother, either. Warmth for the goddess who had raised her swept over Rhiannon in a deluge. She wrapped her arms around Jereni’s shoulders.
“Love you, Mom,” she whispered.
“Oh, Rhiannon. I hate that we’ve put you in this position. If I could take your place, I would.” Jereni’s voice hitched on the last word.
A heavy weight settled onto Rhiannon’s shoulders. Over the past several hours, she’d wracked her brain searching for solutions, but no options had surfaced, at least none that wouldn’t result in someone’s pain and suffering. She’d even considered telling her mother about Pwyll’s desire to challenge Gwawl, but Rhiannon wouldn’t be able to handle her mother’s look of disappointment. No, she couldn’t let her parents or the villagers down, but if, by some miracle, she found a way out of this, she’d take it.
After a long moment, she withdrew and squeezed her mother’s arm. “Time to meet this god of fire and pain.”
Jereni nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “Your father awaits us in the village center.”
“Then we best leave.” Rhiannon took a fortifying breath and held out her palm.
Her mother accepted the offer. A moment later they dematerialized, Rhiannon’s heart breaking in the process.
They arrived in the village square, and a crowd of lesser gods gathered at the base of the largest Moratar tree. Nested along the lake’s shore, its root system created a large platform with a flight of stairs leading to a raised dais. Several warriors, males dressed in dark leather with knives attached to their belts, rimmed the massive stage. Their blades glinted in the sunlight.
Rhiannon’s legs tightened, the stiff muscles holding her in place. She searched the faces of the warriors, studying each in rapid succession. Which one was Gwawl?
Her father paced to the front of the platform. “In a show of good faith, both parties have agreed to leave magic at the doorstep to this sacred place.”
He waved at her. “Daughter, come forward.”
Murmurs from the crowd echoed across the lake.
A chill rippled over Rhiannon’s shoulders and down her exposed arms. She raised her chin, refusing to let anyone see her unease. Her people needed her to remain strong.
She clutched the material of her long dress in one fist, as much to bolster her courage as to keep herself from tripping, and she crossed the platform. With each step forward, her heart trip-hammered against her ribs.
As she treaded up the short flight of stairs, two of the warriors stepped aside, creating an opening in the lineup. A massive male strode onto the dais, his booted feet pounding on the wood and echoing like thunder.
He wore a blood-red robe tied at the waist with a golden chain, and the muscles in his chest and shoulders drew the material taut against his skin. Dark hair curled in ringlets around his shoulders, accentuating his bulbous nose and his thin lips. His dark orbs, black as night, focused on her.
The hair on Rhiannon’s scalp tingled, and she clamped her lips together to contain the hiss that threatened to escape. Based on his reputation and his dark aura, she already knew she hated the bastard.
She reached the dais, and her father grasped her elbow. He turned to face the male, a forced smile on his face. “Gwawl, I present to you my daughter, Rhiannon.”
Gwawl advanced closer, raking his gaze from her eyes to her lips and on down to her breasts, where he lingered far too long before continuing to peruse her hips and her feet. He met her gaze once again, and a vicious smirk toyed at the corner of his mouth.
“Not what I had envisioned, but she’ll do.”
A collective gasp erupted from the crowd followed by murmured words of discontent.
Heat flared up Rhiannon’s neck and into her cheeks, fueling the hatred burning in her soul. “Bastard,” she hissed under her breath. “How dare you insult me.” She fisted her hands and fought the desire to pummel this arrogant, rude male.
Father placed his hand on her arm and leaned down until his warm breath slid along her ear. “Calm yourself, daughter. Don’t let him see your ire. That will only incite him further.”
Her father’s smart advice settled her faster than a cold bucket of water. With a gentle push, she stepped away and raised her chin. “I’m fine, father. Thank you.”
Ariland turned to face Gwawl, his jaw tight. “State your intentions or leave.”
An eerie chuckle eased from the god. “As we discussed, I’ve come to offer a formal marriage proposal to wed your daughter, Rhiannon, and claim sovereign authority over this land to protect all its peoples.”
Shouts of “no,” and “that can’t be,” pierced through the cries from the crowd.
Ariland’s shoulders tensed, but he lowered his head. “Your reputation proceeds you, Gwawl, and I have no desire to bring your wrath upon our people. On behalf of my daughter and my kingdom, I accept your offer.”
Rhiannon’s throat tightened, her urge to run as strong as her need to fight. Neither were an acceptable option, so she gritted her teeth and stepped forward. “What do you offer as tribute?”
Her father should’ve asked, but her strong-willed nature had demanded she respond.
Gwawl closed the distance between them in an instant, and she got a good look at his features. Pock marks marred the skin along his cheeks, and the thick cartilage of his nostrils flared with each breath. His dark orbs seemed endless, and she feared what she would see if she stared into them too long.
“A trinket worthy of your status.” He dug into his pocket and withdrew a small charm attached to a thin necklace. The bauble’s cheap trinket, a round bead the color of mud, rotated from the chain’s length.
“You call that worthy?” She spat the words.
He laughed, and he scanned the crowd. “For a kingdom with the likes of these lesser gods, yes. They would be a simple morning’s work for my warriors.”
Ariland raised his voice. “You promised to—”
“Silence.” Gwawl held up his hand, cutting off her father, and he turned his attention to Rhiannon. The bead spun from the chain encased in his fist. “Do you accept my tribute?”
She jutted her chin, her wounded pride spilling from her lips. �
�No. Absolutely not.”
The assembled mass reacted with loud, stunned gasps that rippled through Rhiannon.
Gwawl’s features hardened, and his dark eyes turned ice cold.
“Perhaps you need a demonstration of my seriousness.” Gwawl snapped his finger and pointed toward the crowd.
Two warriors stepped from the lineup and marched past them, their hardened features taut with conviction.
Rhiannon’s gut twisted, her nerves fraying from the inside. What had she done?
The males seized her mother’s arms and dragged her forward. She struggled in their grasp, her eyes wide. “No, no.”
“Stop, please.” Ariland rushed to Jereni, but one of the warriors shoved him aside, and he fell to his knees. The crack of bone against wood echoed above the crowd’s gasps.
Rhiannon turned to face the horrid god. “What are you doing? Let my mother go!”
The guards tossed Jereni, and she landed hard on her hands and knees before Gwawl. The cruel god clutched her hair, withdrew a short blade from his belt, and held the tip under her chin.
Jereni trembled beneath his grasp, and she clawed Gwawl’s arms, but the strong god ignored her feeble struggles.
A low growl burst from his lips, and he met Rhiannon’s gaze. “This is for your defiance.”
“No. Stop!” Rhiannon raced to her mother—
Gwawl slid the blade across Jereni’s neck. She disintegrated, her body morphing into sand and slipping away on the breeze.
Rhiannon dropped to her knees, grasping at the small particles, but like trying to capture water in a sieve, the molecules floated between her fingers. Anguish like she’d never known pierced deep into her soul.
A deep masculine wail erupted from the silent crowd. Rhiannon glanced toward the sound. Father knelt on the platform, his face buried in his palms.
A heavy weight settled onto Rhiannon’s shoulders. Her mother’s death was her fault.
Gwawl’s low chuckle rippled through the air. “Do you need another demonstration? I could bring your father—”
“No.” Fear for her father sliced through her heartache, and Rhiannon forced herself to stand.
“Did you change your mind? Are you willing to accept my tribute now?” A malevolent smile curled Gwawl’s lip.
Rhiannon swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and nodded, once. What choice did she have? As much as she loved and wanted to be with Pwyll, Gwawl had made it clear he’d slaughter her father and the lessor gods of the village if she didn’t comply.
He leaned forward and cupped his ear. “I can’t hear you.”
“I accept your tribute.” Spittle flew from her lips, and a drop landed on his cheek.
Gwawl wiped the wetness away with the back of his hand. A triumphant glint formed in his eyes. “That’s much better.”
He unhooked the clasp and hung the necklace around her throat. The touch of his fingers along her neck made her skin crawl, and the charm, like a ball and chain, weighed heavy against her chest.
“Now, let us seal the deal with a kiss, shall we?” Gwawl wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and yanked her to him.
Before she could stop him, he brought his mouth to hers. She gasped, and he took advantage, forcing his tongue between her lips. Warm and slimy, his disgusting tongue reminded her of an eel. She struggled against him, pounding her fists against his shoulders, his face, anywhere she could reach, but he held her in place with his muscular arms. The temptation to dematerialize flitted through her with such force, her entire body hummed.
He broke the kiss and gripped her face in his palm, his fingers digging into her cheeks. “I can’t wait to tame you.”
“Never.” She bit him on the chin.
A feral growl ripped from him, and he yanked her away. “Not only will I tame you, I’ll make you beg me for more.”
“Not this side of the Otherworld.” She seethed inside.
He laughed. “I will return in three days for our wedding feast. Until then, my future bride.”
Before she could retaliate and tell him how much she despised him, he disappeared in a swirl of dust, his soldiers following close behind.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a desperate attempt to remove his stench, but like spoiled milk, the bitter taste lingered. If only she could rid herself of him so easily. As much as she wanted to lash out and kill the bastard, per the rules set by Cernunnos, Lord of the Otherworld, gods couldn’t harm each other once a tribute was accepted.
Unfortunately, she was in this for real, betrothed to wed the god of fire and pain and live with him for eternity.
CHAPTER 4
Rhiannon materialized into Pwyll’s private chamber. She scanned the room, her gaze flitting past his carved wooden dresser, the massive bed with its soft, downy comforter, and the small, two-seated table where a vase of red roses rested on the smooth glass.
Her love wasn’t here.
She rubbed her palms over her arms, her heart seeming to shrivel. On an intake of breath, the flowers’ sweet aroma, along with Pwyll’s underlying masculine scent, filtered into her senses.
He’d been here recently.
Hope inflated her chest as well as her heart. Maybe he remained nearby.
“Pwyll?” She dashed over the polished floor to the balcony.
As she hurried onto the stone structure, she stared along the terrace’s wide expanse. No Pwyll. Tension coiled deep inside.
“Where are you?”
A cool breeze blew across her arms, and she clutched her elbows, a shiver raising goose bumps along her skin. She focused on the view. A valley with evergreen trees followed a meandering river that led to a tall mountain, its peak rising to the sky.
A tear slipped over her lash, then another. Her mother was gone, dead at the hands of Gwawl, the damn god she’d agreed to wed. A bitter taste filled her mouth, and her fists shook from the force of her anger.
After the encounter with Gwawl, she’d followed her father’s lead and calmed the villagers. As soon as they’d returned to their homes, though, she’d tried to console him, but he’d sent her away, saying he needed some time alone. In her grief and to give him space, she’d fled to the human realm. The desire to see Pwyll was an overwhelming need.
She clasped the round bead resting against her breastbone, the weight heavy on her soul.
“I can’t wait to tame you.” Gwawl’s taunt echoed in her brain.
Did he expect her to be docile and obedient? To bow down to him? That was something she would never do. She was stubborn, tenacious, and headstrong. He wouldn’t appreciate those qualities in her. She’d lose herself under his rule if she married him. With a firm tug, she yanked the chain from her neck, gripped the meaningless bauble, and launched it over the balcony.
A sense of accomplishment raised her spirit, but it didn’t change the fact she was still betrothed to him. She released a frustrated sigh. She must locate Pwyll. Closing her eyes, she called on her magic, searching for his unique carbon signature.
“Rhiannon? Are you here?” Pwyll’s deep voice resonated from inside the chamber.
Warmth swept through her. She opened her eyes and bolted into the bedroom. “Pwyll!”
“Rhi…” Pwyll’s handsome smile bloomed across his face, and he opened his arms.
She dashed into his embrace. He wrapped her in a warm, powerful hug, and she melted against him. This, right here, was where she belonged.
“I’ve worried over you. After you left, I scoured the countryside, searching for a way to follow you to the Otherworld.” He stroked her hair, and the beat of his heart, strong and regular, calmed her.
After a long moment, she drew away and looked into his eyes. A terrible ache burned deep inside her chest. “Gwawl killed my mother.”
Pwyll’s eyebrows rose. He sucked in a quick breath, but then his features darkened, and a tic pulsed at his jaw. “What happened?”
“I refused his bridal tribute…” Her throat tightened, squeez
ing the breath from her lungs.
Pwyll stroked his fingers along her cheek. “It’s fine, Rhi. You don’t have to tell me.”
The sincerity in his tone loosened her airway, and she released a slow breath. “No. I want to share it with you.”
He nodded, his attention riveted on her.
“It happened in the village square, on the central dais. Gwawl was so ruthless, striking my mother down without mercy. I can’t imagine marrying someone like that. She did nothing to him.” Rhiannon choked back a sob.
Pwyll kissed her on the forehead. “If I could bring her back, I would. Instead, I will destroy him for you.”
Love for Pwyll burst from within and soothed her grief. “I believe you would do anything for me, and I love you so much for that.”
He was her world. She didn’t want to live without him. Her heartbeat raced, and she vowed then and there to protect him from Gwawl no matter the consequences to herself.
Pwyll trailed his fingers along her cheek then cradled her head in his palm. “I’d never let anything happen to you. We’ll figure it out…”
He brushed his lips against hers in a barely there kiss, lingering along the edge of her mouth where he planted another then another. Her skin tingled in his wake, lighting up her senses.
“Tell me something.” Pwyll trailed his lips along her jawline until he reached her ear. “Where would you like me to devour you this time?”
She smiled as he nipped at her earlobe then traced her hands over his broad shoulders. Even under his tunic, the firmness of his muscles seemed as strong as steel.
“I want to touch every inch of your skin.” She clasped his hand and drew him forward.
“Ah, Rhi, such a temptress, always willing to tell me exactly what you need, and I’m ever willing to give it.” Pwyll swept his arms under her legs and picked her up.
Despite the pain of her loss, which seemed like a part of her had been scooped out and could never be refilled, she couldn’t contain the small laugh. He was the only light in her life. She gazed at his face while he carried her, memorizing every line and angle. If she ended up with Gwawl, she’d need the memory in order to survive.
