Vesta's Virgin

by Suzanne Ravelle

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. She opened it to find Helios standing there.

  ‘This has to stop.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said in surprise, a fingertip of apprehension tickling her spine.

  ‘Coming in.’

  Achillea just managed to step out of his way in time as he barged past. ‘How dare you enter my private quarters!’ she gasped. ‘Get out now before I call for help.’

  To her rising annoyance, Helios merely laughed.

  ‘And explain what I’m doing alone with you in your rooms?’

  Achillea couldn’t believe she actually saw a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Your devoutness has already been called into question, Priestess,’ he pointed out.

  As if he needs to remind me!

  ‘And, left slightly tarnished,’ he added, by way of further insult.

  Achillea stood by helplessly as he closed and locked the door.

  ‘I would keep my voice down if I were you.’ She didn’t fail to note the mocking arch of his eyebrow.

  Bastard!

  If she were a normal woman she would have slapped him. As it was she couldn’t even stamp on his foot without condemning herself in the process.

  Seething with ire at the self-satisfied grin now plastered to his face, she looked around the normally adequately equipped bay for something to throw at his head.

  The chair was too heavy, the bed similarly inappropriate and the tall candlesticks she’d need later for light.

  Everything else was no good or nailed down.

  ‘I wouldn’t get violent if I were you,’ said Helios, as if he were reading her mind. ‘Remember, we need to keep the noise down.’

  ‘Arghhh!’ growled Achillea, stamping her foot and clenching her fists at her side. ‘What do you want,’ was all she managed to grind out.

  The grin left Helios’s face. ‘You know what I want,’ he said, a nerve jumping in his suddenly clenched jaw.

  Achillea, stood momentarily mesmerised by his smouldering gaze. He’d never looked at her like that before. She frowned in consternation at the responding fire being kindled to life in her belly. She clutched her stomach in guilt.

  ‘I want you.’

  His words, although spoken as soft as the gentlest caress, had her backing away. ‘Helios, No,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘How long do you think you can keep me away?’ he said, slowly advancing on her.

  Achillea couldn’t believe it. Not Helios, of all people, surely not Helios. Achillea somehow found the fortitude to stand her ground. ‘Do you mean to…to…defile me…like…like Nero?’ she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

  Helios stopped in his tracks. An aspect of pain mixed with realisation flashed across his face. ‘I would never take from you that which was not freely given.’

  She couldn’t understand the look of sincerity she saw in his eyes. ‘Then why are you doing this?’ she said, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her shaking hand.

  ‘To make it easier for you.’

  ‘What?’ Achillea was dumbfounded now - as opposed to merely confused.

  ‘Why do you think you colour when you see me? Why do find yourself staring at my body when you think I don’t see? Why do you argue and goad me?’ he said, pressing forward again.

  Achillea was mortified. All these things he’d seen?

  Her face felt drained of blood. She suddenly felt light-headed. She reached out to hold the back of the chair for fear she was going to fall.

  Helios came to a stop by her. He placed his hand next to hers. Their fingers were almost touching. ‘I know you may not understand your feelings or your actions,’ he said gently. ‘But, I know what they mean.’

  She followed Helios’s gaze as his eyes left her face. She watched for a second in horror as he lifted his forefinger and stretched it out as if he intended to stroke her adjacent thumb.

  ‘But I’m a Vestal!’ exclaimed Achillea, snatching her hand away, as she sprang back from the chair.

  Helios raised his head again to look at her. She couldn’t stop looking at his sensuous mouth, the fullness of his bottom lip and the whiteness of his teeth, as he spoke.

  ‘Not really.’

  Achilea frowned, a feeling of uncertainty prickled through her body. She could feel her pulse getting even quicker in her throat.

  ‘That’s just the way they’ve tried to make you. That’s not who you really are,’ he said in a way that sounded almost tender.

  She stood transfixed. A vague memory of a screaming child being torn from her mother’s hand flittered across her mind to be replaced by memories of Helios smiling down at her, growing up with her. In awe, she realised he’d been the one constant, loving presence, in her life.

  Her heart sounded like thunder in her ears. Her body was uncontrollably shaking under an unexpected onslaught of intense, hot, burning desire. Her mind felt like a hurricane was ripping through it, causing devastation and chaos in its wake.

  ‘Let me show you your true nature. What you crave. What you need. What you want…’ she heard Helios saying as he took another step towards her; his arms outstretched inviting her embrace.

  Her body swayed towards him.

  Time froze still.

  Her heart lurched with the realisation that she truly wanted nothing more than to let his arms encircle and entirely envelope her. She could feel drops of perspiration beading between and trickling down her breasts as she fought with the grip of incomprehensible longing.

  She felt possessed.

  She wanted to be utterly melded to him. She was meant for him. She wanted him to breach the fortress of her body. Obliterate her defences. Consume her essence - her whole reason for being. She wanted to be totally one with him.

  To lose herself in him.

  She couldn’t be Adorabella Achillea, Vesta’s Virgin, anymore. She could clearly see the truth of the matter. She was totally, undeniably, meant to be with him!

  An image of Vesta’s stern face, materialising out of an engorged and angry sacred flame, suddenly blurred her vision. A tendril of fire leapt out and whipped itself around her. She physically felt a lash of torturous pain as the cord burnt through her flesh and seared ino her heart. She knew it would never stop. Not until it found her blackened soul and destroyed it from within…

  Achillea jolted out of her daze with a start. She was back in full control of her senses.

  Her eyes narrowed on the Greek. ‘Get out! Get out! Get out!’ she yelled, heedless of who could hear her scream.

  Her heart felt reassuringly encased in girdled steel. She felt satisfyingly immune to the shock and betrayal now carved on his face. Even if it meant getting him thrown overboard she knew, without a shadow of doubt, he had to go…

  There was no way she could allow a devil, like Helios, to remain in her life!

  CHAPTER VI

  Achillea woke to the sound of indescribable noise. Disoriented and groggy from sleep she thought for a startled moment it was Helios trying to break down the door. Then she remembered he was now restrained in the hold.

  She was suddenly fully awake.

  Her ears acclimatised to the sounds of the torrential rain and pounding waves now battering the boat’s hull. The wind was howling too. Their vessel was being tossed around in frenzy.

  Her alarm was instantly trebled by an immensely bright bolt of lightning followed by a deafening roar of thunder.

  Another brief flash lit the room. Then there was an almighty crack and thudding crash.

  The whole ship seemed to groan and list.

  She landed spread-eagled on the floor, along with a number of other things being smashed or thumped off walls and surfaces.

  She was truly petrified.

  She fumbled in the dark to find some clothes and light.

  The room blazed alight again and she stifled a cry as the heavens released yet another bellowing boom. The sound of blood pumping in her head magnified.
Her body felt boneless and loose. It was almost impossible to move. The curdling screams of crewmen stabbed into her heart like shards of ice.

  Another lightning strike and rumble of thunder had her burying her head in her arms.

  The storm was right overhead.

  The acrid smell of smoke burnt her eyes. She started to choke. The vessel lurched again. A scream ripped from her throat as she clutched at nothing and slid across the planks until her body hit against something solid. The noise around her was momentarily forgotten.

  All Achillea could hear was her racing pulse pounding in her skull. Curling into a foetal position to try and protect her head, she was tossed this way and that, as clothing, furniture and fixtures ripped from their fittings were flung about the room.

  Utter panic gripped her mind. Why has no one come for me? Where is everyone? Surely the guard posted at the door would run in, any second soon. But minutes passed. No one broke in to save her from the chaos. No one helped her up from the heaving planks.

  Achillea sighed in relief when her groping hands touched on Vesta’s golden ceremonial box.

  Finally she’d found it!

  She managed to unclasp and open the lid. She plunged a candlestick into the hot coal and ash of Rome’s sacred fire and drew it out. It spluttered to life. The room became cast in shadow and a dim yellow, flickering light.

  She gave a startled gasp. The ship was almost on its side. The cabin door seemed to be oddly hanging almost upside down, but slightly sideways, from the ceiling, in the corner of the room.

  Things were strewn everywhere in total disarray.

  ‘By the gods, we’re drowning!’ she screamed, in disbelief and terror. ‘Help! Help!’ she yelled in the direction of the door.

  But still, no one came.

  Her next thought was for the sacred flame. She had to save it!

  She started pushing the bed, which was already on its side. She had to get it under the door. Maybe she could use it as a ladder and climb it?

  She yanked the remaining matting off, exposing the leather slats. Then, she stumbled back through the thickening smoky fog to get Vesta’s box.

  Achillea firmly gripped the cushioned handle and pulled. It didn’t budge. Again and again she tried. But, she couldn’t do it. She wept in frustration. Try as she might it wouldn’t move.

  Despite the rolling and heaving of the craft, she got to her feet, threw back her head and howled into the night. ‘Vesta! Help me!’ Her voice carried clear and true over the ferocious wind. Over the lashing rain, pummeling waves, lightning and raging thunder, she cried out again. ‘What should I do?’

  As if in answer, a flame licked the hull at the far side of the room. An immense force hit the ship. Achillea screamed as she tumbled over. The sound of cracking and splintering wood filled the air as a hulking boulder of rock punched through the timber.

  The candle light gutted out, as the sea poured in…

  And she was swept up by the engulfing, ice-cold torrent and tossed around as if she were out in the actual ocean.

  Somehow she had to save the sacred flame from being lost or extinguished!

  However much she tried she couldn’t get there. Her body was continually battered by obstruction after obstruction. Every movement forward was met with another surge of freezing, churning, salty sea. It knocked her back, under, over, around and around. She no longer knew up from down.

  And the level kept rising and rising.

  Achillea knew that she was dying. Her fingers were now so numb they could no longer grip. Her frozen limbs had ceased to move. The glancing blows from wreckage had stopped hurting.

  She could feel nothing…nothing…nothing…except her heart slowly pumping out the last of her life’s blood.

  She closed her eyes.

  She was falling…falling…falling into a blissful abyss of emptiness.

  No sounds, no storm, no pain.

  Her awareness wavered in and out of consciousness. She knew she’d nearly used up the last few beats of her heart. She’d be at the gates of the Underworld soon.

  ‘Sorry, my beloved goddess,’ she whispered.

  ‘Achillea!’

  Achillea thought she heard someone calling her name. She must have arrived. It was time for her reckoning…

  ‘Achillea!’

  There it was again. With great effort she opened her eyes. Her pupils contracted at the moving halo of light emanating from Apollo as he descended into the room. She had no idea why the Sun god had come.

  She’d assumed she’d be seeing Vesta…

  CHAPTER VII

  Achillea felt warm and safe nestled in Vesta’s arms. The goddess had obviously forgiven her. Her senses attuned to the gentle sound of waves dragging over stones. The sun heated her skin and the breeze caressed her face.

  She sighed contentedly and nudged herself further into the strong encircling arms. A faint smell of salt, cinnamon and musk tickled her nose.

  ‘Ah Helios,’ she thought wistfully.

  Now they were, no doubt, both shades in the Underworld, maybe they’d meet again.

  For some reason her body was starting to ache. The blissful floating feeling of moments earlier subsided to be replaced with a multitude of aches and pains. Her head was beginning to hurt. Her throat felt tight, sore and dry. And, the screeching sound of seagulls overhead was not helping.

  She opened her eyes in consternation.

  Why was Helios looking at her? Achillea gave an astonished cry. She tried to move and couldn’t. She was trapped in Helios’s clasp.

  She froze.

  ‘Why are you holding me,’ she croaked, alarmed and confused.

  ‘Here, drink this.’

  Achillea tried to push the flask away but Helios pressed it to her lips. She drank. The watered wine eased the ache. And then it dawned on her, Helios was holding her!

  She knocked the drink away.

  ‘By the gods, what have you done?’ She would have to die again for this! ‘By Vesta, I am no longer chaste!’

  She struggled again but he would not release her.

  ‘Bella, take it easy. Everything is gone. Everyone has gone. The ship sank. I had to carry you.’ His arms tightened further around her arms and waist. ‘You were freezing last night when we got here. I didn’t want to leave you. It was the only way I could warm you.’

  She saw the truth of the matter in his apologetic eyes. Achillea swallowed. She’d been unconscious and defiled. She didn’t understand why she was still alive.

  Why hadn’t she somehow been struck down?

  And yet, why didn’t she feel more outraged?

  She flushed guiltily at the warm soft feel of his skin where it touched hers, at the way her body fitted so well, cocooned within his own; at the heady feeling of being enveloped in his strength. Her body was tingling all over. She could see why ordinary people found it so easy to succumb to pleasures of the flesh. It felt so right. Could it really be so wrong?

  She shifted uneasily in his lap.

  And then she remembered. ‘What about the sacred flame?’

  Helios hesitated before answering. ‘It’s gone Bella. My thoughts were only for you. But even if I’d remembered, I wouldn’t have been able to carry it. It’s made of gold,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Achillea couldn’t speak. Her mind could barely grasp the enormity of what’d happened. She’d lost the sacred flame. Plague, famine, military defeat – in fact, any number of things - could befall the Empire. It’d all be laid at her feet. It would all be her fault.

  ‘I’ve jeopardised the well-being, nay the very continuance, of Rome,’ she said, almost to herself, in an awed whisper.

  ‘No, there was nothing you could do.’ Helios’ words were barely a breath in her ear. ‘For whatever reason, Neptune has released you from your oath. There are no witnesses Bella. No one need ever know.’

  Achillea closed her eyes against the tears threatening to brim over. ‘But I know,’ she breathed. And Vesta knows.


  I can never go home.

  The thought stabbed her in the heart. ‘I should be buried alive for this. And you never should have touched me!’ she bit out, struggling anew.

  An irritated Helios caught up her fist as she tried to pummel his chest. ‘What? You honestly wish I’d left you to die?’ Achillea glared at him, her eyes felt like they were shooting flames.