“Well,” she turned from the mirror to find the two gods watching her assessment, “I guess I’m ready.” She looked around for a clock and saw none. “It has to be soon, right? What time is it?”
The pair exchanged glances she wasn’t sure she cared for.
“What?” she said, arms akimbo. “Don’t you guys know?”
Love nodded. “It’s about forty-five after.”
“Oh. Good. Fifteen more minutes.” She wandered to the plush couch. “Come sit and wait with me?” She rubbed damp palms together. “I’m so nervous.”
Another look passed between them, but the men obliged. Lust took his customary seat while Lexie tried to sit on the couch without exposing her lower half or wrinkling her gown. Love sat on the opposite end. An awkward silence descended, and everyone passed ping-pong gazes back and forth. Fake smiles came next, and when even Lust plastered one on, she began to worry. Then she glanced out the window—one that had a view of the actual earthen sky, not the mystical beach off the portal-slash-veranda—and noticed night was falling.
She frowned and turned to Love. “You said it was forty-five after?”
He nodded.
“Forty-five after what?”
Guilt flickered in his gaze.
“It’s almost eight o’clock,” Lust said.
Her mouth fell open. “He’s late.”
Lust shrugged. “He was probably just detained.”
“For nearly an hour?” Her stomach began to churn. “He swore to me last night that he’d be here at seven.”
“He was similarly delayed last time he was here,” Love offered. “It was why he was unable to meet you personally as he’d planned.”
She tried to beat down the panic fluttering around her chest. There had to be a simple explanation. “Maybe his watch stopped?”
One side of Lust’s mouth slid upward. “Immortals possess an innate clock that functions across dimensions. Wherever he is, he knows the time here.”
She made a face. “Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”
“I’m sure it’s no big deal,” he said.
“It is a big deal.” Lexie stood up. “When we were in my dream together, he acted like nothing was more important than being here. I mean, this is supposed to be our wedding, right?” She began to pace back and forth between the two men, stopping in front of Love. “So was all his talk about ‘seven o’clock, nothing will stop me’ just a lie?”
Before he could respond, she stalked away and glared at Lust. “If he’s going to be so late for his own wedding, what happens later? Will I matter to him at all?”
Lexie knew she sounded like five kinds of crazy, but she didn’t care. He swore he’d be here. How could he stay away, after she’d admitted how it had crushed her when he hadn’t met her at the fountain and had even abandoned her dreams?
Panic, torturous anticipation, and the erotic flush possessing her body inch by inch all tossed together like a wild salad in her chest, and she wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry. She propelled herself toward the veranda.
Lust grabbed her arm five feet from the entrance. “Are you mad, woman? You set one foot on that balcony and it won’t matter whether he’s five minutes late or five hundred years.”
“I’m not going to set foot on it,” she snapped. “I just want to look out there, see if I can see him.”
The veranda stood empty, the only movement coming from the filmy curtains blowing on an indecipherable breeze.
She sighed and turned toward Love. “When he stopped visiting my sleep and didn’t show up at the fountain, I was sure I was a lunatic for believing in my dreams. Then you came along and reassured me it was all real. I told him last night I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t come. Now he isn’t here. Why?”
Love moved close, grasping her upper arms so she was sandwiched between the two men. “I’m sorry. I…”
Lust cut him off. “Gods have many affairs, you know.”
Lexie spun around to shoot him a venomous look. “He assured me there would be none of that.”
Lust rolled charcoal eyes. “I don’t mean sexual affairs. Well, fine. Gods have those, too. But I meant that perhaps the business of the realm delayed him.” He flicked a gaze to the man behind her. “Right, Love?”
She didn’t like his you’d-better-back-me-up tone. What was going on?
Love’s expression wavered when she twisted back around.
“Well?” she said.
He swallowed. “There is one other possibility I know of.”
Her heart sank at the sober look in his eyes. “What?”
“Yeah, Love,” Lust said, voice heavy on the sarcasm with just a hint of threat. “What?”
He sighed. “I visited his realm recently,” he said. “I was summoned to his palace. You hear things in a place like that. Rumors.”
“Love,” she said, her voice trembling, “what is it? What did you hear?”
“Overhear, really.” His eyes grew wary. “It seems he has problems back home. Problems that might make it impossible for him to go through with this.”
She folded her arms to keep her heart from falling out. “What problems?”
“There is dissent over Grayel having chosen a mortal woman as his mate.”
Chapter Twelve
“I’m telling you, I did not sleep with Lucreda.”
Grayel was inches from Malanon, and moments from sending a balled fist into the god’s twisted expression.
“The only way that could possibly be true is if we burst in just in time to stop you,” Malanon said. “My niece seems disinclined to back that up.”
“If we all could just discuss things calmly,” Asantra said, “I’m sure we can resolve this.”
“There is no resolution for our son’s use of his organ on a woman he claims he will not honor a marriage agreement for,” Tolel said. His eyes fastened on Grayel’s with a gaze of unrestrained threat.
“I have no intention of marrying this deceitful witch,” he spat.
Malanon made the mistake of reaching out to shove Grayel, who had sobered up enough to react. He pulled the man’s arm behind him and ratcheted it up enough to cause an angry yelp of pain.
“Grayel!” his father bellowed. “Stop this and come to your senses, lad. You’ll ruin us all if you persist in sticking your cock where you don’t intend to keep it.”
“It wasn’t stuck anywhere. The Fates could have told you the truth.”
Malanon laughed. “The Fates? They have no use for the likes of scandal.”
The words burned with truth. The three beings had vanished into the ether the moment the others had stumbled over the scene.
With a grunt of disgust, Grayel released Malanon with a slight shove and ran a hand through his long hair. They were stuck in an endless loop, each one interested in nothing but spouting their own opinion and none interested in the truth.
“Son,” his father’s calmer tone caught his gaze, “if you don’t go through with this, the scandal could put an end to our family’s reign and see the return of violence and suffering. You must see reason in this.”
“Why?” he cried at the top of his voice, and all others in the room froze and stared.
“Why?” his mother said.
Grayel ignored her and moved into the center of the room, spreading his arms wide and tilting his head back to shout the word again. “Why did you bother coming?” He ignored the confused glances the others exchanged. “Why come down off your high pedestal long enough to save me from her plot, when the end result will be the same either way? Does my loss tonight aid your cause? Does this see your prophecy brought back from the four winds? You toyed with my life for no just cause.”
“What the gods is wrong with him?” Malanon said. “Has he gone mad?”
“Grayel, enough,” Tolel said. “The arrangements will be made, and you will comply. If not, I’ll…”
His father trailed off, his face going ashen and jaw slack. He was fixated on something behin
d Grayel’s shoulder. Grayel twisted around.
“What say you, son of Tolel?”
The three Fates floated and bobbed in a frenzied pattern. The mist of their skirts and hair swirled around them wildly this time. Everyone in the room stared in shock.
The trio hissed at Grayel. “You dare mock the Fates with the tongue you had rammed down the girl’s throat not long ago?”
“I knew it!” Malanon roared. “The Fates confirm it.”
The heads snapped toward him with a hiss. “We confirm nothing for the treacherous house of Malanon.” A tinge of venom punctuated the name. “You yourself knew of the plan to trick Grayel into giving up his true mate.”
“What?” Tolel whirled on Malanon. “What madness is this?”
Their threefold laugh filled the room. “What madness is taking our prophecy and tossing it to ruin?” they said. “Our tale of the holy Grayel has been desecrated into useless fictional lore.”
“You wanted my son to be joined to a mortal,” he said. “His destiny is far too great to allow such a thing. To hold back favor from our house…”
“We held nothing back from your house,” they seethed, rising and growing larger. “Be it known by all in this realm and others that the goddess who comes is no mere mortal. She will shed her human skin and rule beside her god with a fierce and powerful loyalty. The one who drinks the essence of the holy Grayel will become pure immortal, a goddess revered in many realms. She is more worthy than any in the twelfth realm.”
“It is too late for that folly,” Malanon said. “The heir has shamed our house by bedding my niece. Tradition demands that he restore her honor.”
“No, Uncle.” All eyes turned to Lucreda, who had been standing silent behind the rest. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. “Grayel did not steal my honor.” She lifted her chin. “Though I tried to force it on him in hopes that he would.”
“Lucreda,” Malanon said in a tone of warning.
“It’s over.” She looked at the Fates, bitter regret mingling in her features. “It appears I was overruled. I am not destined, nor apparently even as worthy as a mere mortal.”
“Outrageous,” Malanon said, but the words lacked vindication.
“This is out of the hands of Fate now,” the three beings said. “The rest lies with the heir to the realm. But trouble awaits, boy.”
The hope starting to build inside Grayel crumbled. “What do you mean?”
“You have broken your promise, son of Tolel. You have betrayed your bride.”
He dug his nails into his palms. “You know I did not betray her. All present just heard Lucreda admit we did not join.”
“Time has betrayed you,” they sang, “and your goddess, as well. Pray her heart will still beat for you when you finally manage to cross the portal.”
The three vanished.
His eyes flew open. Gods, they were right. He was well over an hour late. He glanced down at his ruined clothing. There was no time to change, but explaining his current appearance could make things even more difficult.
Without another word he rushed from the room, headed straight for the gateway. While racing down ruby-bricked streets, he wondered what awaited him through the portal. Would Lex Ann still be waiting? He didn’t think so.
I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t come.
He’d heard the anxiety in her words, the inflection of near despair. Right now she was probably either bitterly angry or utterly despondent. Perhaps she no longer waited for him. She could be halfway to the airport. She would ask the demigods to teach her how to block the dream bond, and he’d never see her again.
He clenched his teeth. Never. He’d reveal himself in the largest mortal city on earth, if need be, to keep from losing her.
What if she hadn’t waited in another sense? Love and Lust had no doubt readied her for the ritual, leaving her aroused and wanting. Perhaps they’d done their jobs so well that she’d conduct her own ritual with the gods on hand to retaliate for Grayel’s failure.
He swore and hastened his pace as quick as he could. The shimmer of the portal gate beckoned to him just beyond the city perimeter. Keeping the robe closed over his rent trousers slowed his pace somewhat, though it wasn’t quite enough to curb numerous odd glances and murmurs from bystanders along the way. His heart hammered in his chest as he reached the portal gate, and he forced himself to stop before plunging headlong into the passage. The transfer would not go well if he were not composed and prepared.
He drew in a deep breath, centered himself, and focused on his destination. The pull of energies surrounded him as he moved into the veil, and while light still bathed him mid-transport, he could already hear voices taking shape on the other end.
“He’s changed his mind.” As he stepped onto the beach, her voice floated through the nearby veranda. “He doesn’t want me. This was all for nothing.”
“I’m sure that’s not what’s happened,” one of the men said as Grayel entered a gate set into the balcony railing. “He’ll be here, Lexie.”
Lexie? Is that what the demis called her? Something twisted in his gut as he approached the sleek columns leading to the suite’s entranceway.
“The politics involved can be tricky,” another of the men was saying. “With his father as leader of the realm, Grayel might have been forbidden to come here in favor of marriage to one of his own realm.”
He heard her sniffling, and his throat seized up. Then he stepped into the space between columns. “That is no longer an issue.”
“Grayel!” Lex Ann said.
Despite his uncertainty and panic, he couldn’t help but stare. Though her eyes were reddened with tears, Lex Ann was more beautiful than their wildest dream together. She wore the Sinhalla gown he’d had made for her, yet its fiery sparkle dimmed in comparison to her cerulean eyes. Tumultuous waves of shiny burgundy hair spilled down her back, hair he longed to wind around his hands while he made love to her. Every curve was defined and molded by the silvery-white fabric, and the ancient symbols of the gods throbbed and twisted over the freckled satin flesh of her breasts.
She moved toward him, but Lust reached out and pulled her back. “You can’t touch him, Lexie,” he said. “Not yet.”
Grayel shot the demigod a heated stare and grunted. With no further discussion, the other male let go of her.
“Why didn’t you come?” she said, her voice sounding lost and bitterly disappointed. The back of his throat burned.
“I’m sorry. Believe me when I say it was completely unavoidable.”
“Really?”
The voice was Lust’s and held a sharp note of skepticism. The being’s gaze eyed Grayel critically. Then Lust reached forward and tugged aside the robe Grayel was holding closed. Everyone’s eyes grew three sizes.
Lust let out a grunt of his own. “You do of course realize the arach-weave garment is supposed to be rent during the Fere-Theo, not before?”
“I didn’t have time to change.”
Lust’s eyes landed on the deep scratches Lucreda had scored into his upper arms, marks that hadn’t quite finished healing yet. “You mean after holding the ritual with someone else before shambling over?”
Grayel grabbed Lust by the collar. “In my realm, a demi with such a free tongue or who dared touch a god’s garments in this manner would be dealt with decisively.”
Lust yanked back. “Welcome to my realm, Grayel. One where you might find brides less than pleased when grooms are late to the altar because they were in another woman’s arms.”
Grayel’s voice rumbled through the large suite. “That is not what happened.”
His gaze found Lex Ann’s, and her eyes, too, were sliding over his torn clothing and scratches with shock. “Grayel? What happened to you?”
Lust laughed. “Plenty happened, I’d wager. I can smell the female on you, as well as your recent lust.”
Lex gasped. “What female? Who is he talking about?”
“No one.”
Love shook
his head. “He’s lying. There has been a lover in his arms tonight. Our powers are sufficient to know it.”
“Enough!”
Grayel’s tone carried the familiar bellow of his father, enough to silence all in the room. He took hold of Love’s shirt and leaned into his face. “Do not dare to question the word of a god.”
Lex Ann stepped forward, though still kept a wary distance from him. “Let him go.”
Grayel whipped his head around toward her. “You protect him?”
She raised her chin. “He is not the one who arrived late to his wedding with his clothes half ripped off. His question of your word is fair. If you will not answer it for him, maybe you better answer it for me.”
Tears were wet on her beautiful cheeks when she finished.
Grayel pulled away from Love and held his fists in front of him, to cover his manhood and restrain himself from collaring the males who were egging this debacle on to a disaster.
“Is it true your realm does not want me to be your mate?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“No,” he said, and Love shot him a sharp look. “Where did you hear of such a thing?”
“I told her,” Love said. “When I was at the palace after your summons, I overheard your father discussing the mortal bride, and that you had backed out of a marriage arrangement in order to claim her.”
“That’s not true,” Grayel said, looking at Lex Ann rather than his accuser. “The betrothal was my father’s idea, but it was never formalized. I would never have married that woman anyway, even if I hadn’t met you.”
“Even at the expense of your realm?” Love asked. “Your father indicated great division over this.”
“My father likes to exaggerate his own fears,” Grayel said, again clasping his robe shut. “In any case, the entire issue was put to rest this evening. That is why I am late.”
“Put to rest how?” Lust said. “By claiming the other woman as your mate first? Have you come here to let Lexie down easy?”
“Lucreda came to me,” he said, feeling hot anger boil up inside him. “She drugged me with godsbane, and once I was hallucinating, she convinced me she was Lex Ann.” He turned to Lex Ann again. “She told me the Fates had blessed our union and made you immortal. She wore the Sinhalla gown. I thought it was you, and I...”
Allister, J. Rose - Immortal Menage [Immortal Paradise 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 15