“Dominus,” she whispered. “Is that you?”
She stood abruptly, pushing the chair backward.
“Show yourself to me,” she said. At Yule, she had managed to zero in on his location, so that when he suddenly winked into existence, they were already eye to eye. This time, however, her gaze darted this way and that, searching everywhere to figure out where he stood. “Coward.”
For a fleeting moment, panic filled her, and she feared she was only imagining him. Maybe, in making herself think of another man in his place, she’d conjured up a fantasy where Dominus returned to stop her.
“Please,” she said, and the desperation in the tone nagged at her. “I can feel you.”
The dull thud hammering against her skull picked up the pace.
“I am here,” came a reply moments later—and from much closer than she’d expected.
Her breath caught, and she jerked backward, pressing against the window. “Where? Why won’t you show yourself?”
Dominus appeared out of thin air not three feet away, his hand clutched around a pendant lying against the wash of blue on his bare chest. He let go of the shimmering stone and met her wide-eyed stare. There they were—the blue topaz eyes that lit with a fire that bolstered her pulse. The smile that came along with them faded. He wore a similar, but darker pair of snug-fitting suede pants from the first time she’d seen him, paired with matching boots. His pale hair had been slicked back, and some sort of crown made of holly arched across the top of his head from ear to ear.
He glanced down at the mistletoe in her hand, and she laid it on the windowsill.
“You came back,” was all she could think to say.
He nodded. “I wanted to ensure you were faring well.”
Hot anger boiled up. “Faring well after what? Nearly being consumed alive by supernatural energy, or being screwed and dumped by the Yule god?”
He recoiled physically from the sharp spear of her words, which were venomous enough to rebound and sting her like a slap in the face as well.
“It was not intended the way you describe.”
“You didn’t intend to screw me, or dump me?”
“Stop saying it like I used you without your consent. You were aware of what was taking place.” He took a step closer. “In fact, you initiated some of it.”
She leaned against the window and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Yeah, you were the innocent in all this. Tell me, did I give some kind of unconscious consent to become this great mother of light? Did I ask to be your consort for some Yule birthing ritual I knew nothing about?”
His jaw tensed. “No. You were chosen out of the rare few who conceived the seed of light.”
“Chosen by you. You chose to use me, then leave me.”
His nostrils flared. “I did not choose to know you first. If I hadn’t attended you myself, if I hadn’t…” he broke off with a sigh. “None of this would have mattered. We both would have moved on by now.”
Her pulse wobbled at that, and she stared at him. “Haven’t you? Moved on, I mean.”
“I’m here now, am I not?”
The bile that had just been receding welled up again. “Why? To make sure your guilty conscience is clear before you go off and pick the next target?”
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing you again.”
Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe. “Don’t say things you don’t plan on doing anything about.”
“I’m saying the truth.” He turned and walked to the mantle, the icy fire in his gaze meeting the one reflected in the mirror. “And you wanted to see me again. That’s why you replenished this offering when all else from the season lingers here, dying and neglected.”
She glanced around at the wreckage left behind by her sudden disinterest in cleaning. With little grace, she sprang forward at him, but only to yank down the dried garland hanging from the mantle. Needles pricked her palms, and she dropped the garland and rubbed her hands on her jeans. “I only left another offering because I was being stupid. I thought I was different from the rest. I thought I deserved better than waking up to an empty bed in the morning.”
“You do deserve better.” He moved closer, toying with a strand of hair that hung loose to frame her face. She had a sudden pang of self-consciousness and wished she’d done more than toss her hair up in a messy bun.
“You shouldn’t have even had to be consciously aware that I was with you,” he went on. “I’m sorry that allowing you to know me has caused you pain.”
Goose bumps erupted everywhere—absolutely every where—while she stood frozen, watching him play with her hair. “You’re sorry you got to know me.”
“That is not what I said. Only that by showing myself, I caused you pain. I regret that.”
“I suppose that’s something, at least.”
“But not what you hoped for in my return.”
She snorted. “Not even close.”
She slid her hand along his forearm, up to where he wound the delicate strands of silken hair around his finger. She closed her hand around his, stopping him from playing with the curl. From playing with her. “Do you think of what it was like when we were together? Is it always that way with the women you choose?”
He gave a small shudder when her fingers, quite of their own doing, caressed the cool skin on the back of his hand. “No. It has never been that way before,” he murmured. “And I think of little else.”
She drew even closer, inhaling that clean, winter scent, and lifted her lips to his without meaning to. It was simply a natural response to him, as automatic as drawing air into her lungs.
To her surprise, he did not refuse the offer. His lips came down on her hers, and his hands roamed over her curves, along her shoulders, down her back, around to find the rounded breasts he ached to expose. Squeezing them brought a muffled moan against his mouth, and then her hands were seeking, exploring his body, feeling the muscles shifting beneath his skin. He pulled her against him, rubbing the hard ridge in his pants against her. She wanted him back in her bed, with her beneath him this time while he sank deep inside her until she forgot he had ever left. They would thrust together to bring forth a whole new light, one they created together. She may have given up the light already, but somehow, she felt the heat of it, the joyous promise as vibrant between them as ever.
Still, a thought stopped her, and she broke off. “How do I know you won’t vanish again?” she asked.
His breathing was heavy while he gazed down at her. He took hold of his pendant. “This is what allows me to cross the veil at will.” He gave a firm tug, and the leather cord gave way. He laid the gem on the mantle.
He pushed his hands beneath her sweater, gathering it up out of his way while he found her bra and shoved it aside as well. Her nipples were stiff and waiting, and he bent down to take one between his teeth. She gasped, rocking on her feet, and one of her hands shot out, steadying herself against the mantle. Instead, she sent the plate with his offering of cakes to the floor with a crash.
Dominus ignored the broken dish and straightened to sample her mouth again, thumbing her wet nipple while his other hand slid between her legs. Her nails dug into his arms, and she let out a whimper. All she could think about was letting him shove his cock deep until he made her scream.
“I thought I might find you near she who birthed this year’s light,” came a deep voice from behind her. “But not in her arms and in full view of humans.”
Lorayna gasped and sprang away from Dominus, straightening her clothes on the way. “Who are you?”
The man ignored her. Not that he was a “man” exactly. He, too, was shirtless, wearing a cloth slung low around his waist. More telling, gnarled antlers jutted from the sides of his head, poking out from among long brown waves of hair. His golden eyes, wild and foreboding, were fixed on Dominus.
“He is the god Herne. My father.” Dominus’s tone was cool, but a quiver through the velvety depths of his voice
gave away a certain lack of calm. “How did you find me? The veil pendant keeps me out of phase.” His eyes widened, and he glanced over at the necklace lying on the mantle.
“As you have apparently decided to flout the rules about letting yourself be seen, it was a simple enough matter.” His eyes narrowed. “And I take it this is not the first time.”
“I told you I was with her on the night of Yule.”
“But not that you did so while fully phased here, with her aware of you. I presumed you at least had the sense to perform the ritual while still cloaked from the Earth realm.”
Lorayna’s lip curled. “You mean take what he wanted while I laid there clueless?” She shook her head. “No, he had more sense and decency.”
Now Herne eyed the woman with scrutiny. “No act of joining between realms is ever undertaken without full consent of the females involved. That they do not see nor feel what is happening does not mean they are unaware of it, and those who do not wish to be joined with are left in peace and unmolested.”
“While the rest of us are used for your own purposes and abandoned without a say in the matter.” She sniffed. “I can see why you choose to be invisible. You don’t want humans knowing what you’re up to.”
Herne straightened. “If we chose to do away the sabbats as most humans have, the results would be catastrophic to both our realms. We do what we must to keep the balance.”
“Regardless of the personal cost.” Defiance still blazed in her words, but her voice broke on the last.
Herne took a step closer. “Do not be so quick to judge your gods, nor to dismiss your role in keeping the worlds in harmony. The balance between realms is far more vital than your ability to clutch the back of the man who is riding you.” He shrugged. “Which you are free to go off and do as often as you wish, now that the wheel is turning on a fresh new year. You are well enough met. Surely suitors come to your door.”
She ignored that. “And what if the back of the man I clutch happens to be your son’s? Am I still free to ride him then?”
Herne’s gaze turned back to Dominus. “What is it you have done? What do you hope to achieve by this?”
Dominus laced his fingers through Loryana’s. “I told you, Father. I want the same happiness afforded any other man.”
She glanced at him. He’d discussed her with his father? And in terms of wanting to be happy?
“You are not any other man,” Herne said. “You are a god of the sabbat.”
“So what? At least one other of us knows true love for a woman.”
Lorayna’s small gasp sputtered out over a dry mouth. True love. He knew true love.
“And it has cost your brother much trouble and sorrow,” Herne replied. “Even more so now that the earth is in such turmoil.”
“Because of you. Because you wouldn’t let them be happy together.”
“I let her live far longer than any human, didn’t I?”
Dominus laughed. “Is that what you call it? Living?”
Herne’s face darkened. “Do not mock me. What is between Eradimus and Brighid is not your concern.” He nodded to Lorayna. “Nor is this human. Let go of these fantasy notions of love. With time, she will forget your foolishness and move on. As will you.”
Dominus shook his head. “I will not.”
She squeezed his hand. “I won’t either. Not ever. I don’t know what happened with your brother, but I don’t intend to be another Brighid.”
He glanced down at her, and her heart skipped at the power of his gaze. She was the human and he the god, yet she could see his tenderness, the power she wielded over the immortal. There was a magic there that he apparently could not escape. He had crossed between worlds, defying his father, because of it. And she’d thought he hadn’t seen anything in her beyond the latest ritual conquest.
“Come,” Herne said in a thunderous tone that left little illusion that it was a solid command. “We will discuss this privately back in our realm.”
Dominus turned back to his father. “No. I came here to be with her, and I’m staying.”
“You came to check on her welfare, and judging by her cheek in speaking to a high god, she is clearly well enough. Don’t play with me, boy. I’m in no mood.”
“You’re never in any mood but that of a scowling, blustering old man with no idea what it means to love. Have you ever loved a woman, great god of the forest? I don’t mean pushing deep into spread thighs until you lose your seed.” He took Lorayna’s chin and let her eyes fill him. She was floating and yet drowning, her head spinning with the energy of his nearness. “I mean staring into a woman’s eyes until you lose your soul.”
“Dominus,” she said in a gentle whisper, his image blurring through tears. “I love you too.”
* * *
They were in love.
His heart began to drum harder. There was a new fire in her gaze, one he had feared had gone out forever when he had phased into her living room and seen what his abandonment had done. New Year’s had come and gone, but her Yule decorations had still been up, as dried and dead as her expression while she’d stared out the window. No cozy fire glowed in the hearth, but his offering still sat on the mantle. He had been surprised to discover the food had not dried out, nor the drink gone sour. The offering had been made recently, beckoning him back.
All he had wanted to do was check on her, see her one last time. Now, all he wanted was to gather her in his arms and never, ever let go. She had suffered overlong after releasing the light. The emptiness was a transitory thing, lasting a day, perhaps two. But she had been mourning more than the loss of the Yule sun. They had both lost something neither of them would recover from.
“Love,” Herne echoed, sarcasm dripping from the word. “You wax quite poetic, with all the whim and vinegar of idealistic youth. But what happens when he must select the next sun bearer? Will she forgive your sins, Dominus, year after year when you must bring forth the light of another? For unlike those such as Eradimus, chances are you will never again be able to join with this particular lover for a Yule ritual. Conceiving the Beltane spark is a rare and singular gift.”
Lorayna still clutched his hand, but he felt her stiffen beside him. She would not forgive him, no. She already almost hadn’t. Nor would he forgive himself.
“Then perhaps it is time you found a new god of Yule,” Dominus said. “It is the end of the Thousand Seasons. A fitting occasion to usher in a new era.”
Herne’s face reddened. “Distance, that’s what you need.” He waved his hand, and Lorayna was pushed several feet away. “I’ll take you back myself until you can clear your head.”
He turned to Dominus, walking forward while he raised his hand again. Dominus knew his father could do it. Herne was powerful enough to force him back to the other realm, pendant or no.
Herne’s steps crunched through the broken plate on the ground, through the crumbs of the offering Lorayna would never again make. There would be no point if Dominus was banished.
Dominus lunged for the mantle, grabbing for an object that made Herne waver for just a moment. “No!” his father exclaimed. “Earth will become your home forever.”
He didn’t stop to argue. He saw the man’s hand charging with power, enough to send him away from Lorayna for good, if that was Herne’s wish.
He sucked in a breath and put the goblet to his lips. The wassail had been prepared fresh, but it had since cooled to room temperature. The spiced tang of wine slid over his tongue and down his throat, sealing his fate. A single drop dribbled onto his chest, and he wiped it away.
Herne’s expression went slack as the energy collecting between his fingers dispersed. He lowered his hand and stared at his son. “That was a rash and foolish gesture.”
“Then surely that proves I must be in love.”
Silence stretched to an unbearable thread of tension between them. His heart pounded in the knowledge that he had sealed his fate.
“You made a fine god of Yule,” his father sa
id at last. The voice was deep and rough, but quiet. Defeated. “You were chosen by the Fates from the moment of your birth.”
“The Fates brought me to Lorayna. I have no doubt of it. They will forgive my moving on to a new future.” He took one step and wobbled at the disjointed sensation in his limbs. A warmth spread from his stomach to every inch of him, as the drink he’d taken into his body rooted him to this realm. He felt tendrils of connection snake forth, energy from his own spirit joining with that of the earth itself.
He wavered, blinked, and shook his head to clear momentary fog.
“You have paid quite a price just to defy me,” Herne said.
“No.” He looked up at his father. “Please understand, I did not do this out of defiance for you. I did it out of love for her.”
He reached out, and she came to him, circling his waist with her arms. Her warmth pressed to his side cemented him to the world he was now fully a part of, and the disorienting dizziness faded.
Herne heaved a deep sigh and nodded. “So be it. You are no longer chosen.”
He waved a hand, and Dominus flinched at the motion. Nothing happened.
“But remember that you are still my son.”
Herne vanished, and Lorayna held him tighter. “What did he mean by that?” she asked.
“I am not certain. Hopefully not that he plans to meddle again in the future.”
“Do you think he will?”
He shook his head as they both stared at the space his father had vacated. “No. I am bound to this realm. And I am no longer chosen.” An odd echo accompanied the words. But they held no regret.
“You said you couldn’t eat or drink anything from here,” she said. “I just didn’t know why. You’re really here for good?”
He ran his fingers across her shoulders. “I am rooted here. My natural state will be to exist on this plane. There are still ways to visit the other side, however.” He looked around for the pendant, which had vanished. “Though it seems my father took the easiest route with him.”
Dominus: God of Yule Page 6