Alaric nodded, then brightened. “But you’ll take your evening meal here, of course—you and Grayson both.”
“Of course,” Darius replied. “Now, good night, my friend. And good night to you, Callestina.”
These were the first words, aside from a brief greeting, Darius had spoken to her all evening. His overt attention had been with her brother—the two leaders of two great armies sharing a meal of brotherhood—but she had felt his eyes following her and had been content with that.
Now, looking into Darius’s eyes, Callestina wondered what she saw. His usual look of amusement was there; Callestina had never seen that leave his eyes for long. But what else she saw, she was not certain. His feelings were not so easily interpreted as his companion’s. Grayson’s face still showed his desire for her—and his disgust at himself for being at the mercy of his own feelings.
“Good night Darius, and you, Grayson,” she said, surprised to hear her voice come out so calmly. Inside she was shaking. She lowered her eyes and turned before her own expression could give her away.
As she began to gather up the platters and cups that had been used and put them aside for the morning wash, she listened to the sound of Darius’s footsteps slowly disappearing in the distance. Her mind began to race. He must want her. He must! Surely the goddesses would have shown her if it was not to be.
And she would make him love her. She was Alaric the Great’s sister. If he could lead a nation and conquer a city, the greatest city in the world, then she could certainly conquer one man’s heart.
No—she would not waver in her plan. She would go to Darius tonight.
Alaric wasted no time stumbling to his sleeping furs. He fell quickly into a drunken stupor; Callestina could hear his snores even before she had crossed the short distance to her tent.
Once inside, she was filled with restless energy. She began to pace. She knew she must give Darius time to reach his tent, time for Grayson to leave him, but how long must she wait? Every second that she paced felt as if it stretched to eternity. Soon the walls of her tent seemed to mock her with their confinement.
Finally, Callestina could stand it no more. She turned abruptly on her heel and, breathing one more prayer to the Goddesses of Destiny, she stepped out into the night.
It was not difficult to find her way through the camp. There were still fires burning low to give light to her travels and deep shadows through which she could walk unseen. Her heart pounded with excitement and she could feel the blood rushing through her. Was this akin to the thrill of battle her brother spoke of from time to time? she wondered. It was a heady sensation, a feeling of fire in the veins, of knowing nothing had the power to stand between her and her goal.
She reached the camp of Darius’s army. Tents had been pitched to shelter them for the night, but without the sense of order that would grow in the next few days. Far fewer fires burned and the darkness was much deeper. Callestina proceeded with greater caution, stopping often to listen for the sounds of voice or movement.
Like Alaric’s tent, Darius’s was erected at the heart of his camp; the leader surrounded and protected by his men. Callestina knew it was his tent as soon as she saw it. But she did not approach it right away. She stood in the shadows, listening for the sound of his voice.
He was talking to Grayson. Though Callestina could hear their voices, their words were indistinct. Then she heard Dar-ius’s low laughter and a moment later Grayson came out of the tent. He stopped and looked around, staring at the shadow in which Callestina was hiding. She could see the anger that burned on his face. She held her breath, waiting, praying that the night was too black and he could not see her.
Finally he turned away. A few steps and he was gone. Slowly, careful to make no sound, Callestina released the breath she was holding. She waited for a moment longer, wanting to be certain Grayson was gone before she stepped out of the shadow and crossed to Darius’s tent.
A sudden fit of trembling gripped her as sudden doubts assailed her mind. What if Darius did not want her? What if he sent her away? No, she told herself.I won’t think that way. I have promised the goddesses my faithfulness. I must prove to them that I am worthy of their favor. Such thoughts are the enemy and I will conquer them.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she quickly stepped across the area that separated her from Darius’s tent, put her hand to the fur that closed the tent from the night and lifted. Then she stepped inside.
A small fire burned in a stone-lined pit in the corner and the air inside the tent was warm. Darius had removed the cloak he had worn all evening. He stood naked to the waist; Callestina gasped at the sight of him.
His body was perfect, like looking at the image of a god. He had wide, strong shoulders and arms of both grace and power. The mat of hair that spread thickly across his chest narrowed to a thin line that ran down the rippling flatness of his stomach. It drew Callestina’s eyes with it, down to his narrow hips and the muscular thighs she could see through the doeskin britches that clung to him like a second layer of skin. She knew he had been wounded in countless battles, but she could see no scars to mar his perfection.
As her eyes traveled down his body, she felt a heat begin to build within her own. With it came a kind of trembling she had never felt before. She had to struggle to keep her breath even.
“I wondered how long it would take before you came to me,” she heard Darius say. She looked up and saw again the amused expression dancing in his eyes.
“You knew that I would come?”
A smile touched his lips; Callestina found her eyes drawn to them. They looked full and soft, and Callestina wanted to feel them on her mouth, her body. She wanted to run her own lips along the strong line of his jaw, to twine her hands into his hair and pull his face to her.
“Did you think that I am blind, my little Callestina?” She heard his words as if through a fog. “Or that I could not feel what is between us?”
No more preamble was needed. Callestina walked the few steps that separated them. She watched her hands come up of their own accord and her fingers spread themselves through the thick hair on his chest. It tickled her palms and sent sensation shooting up her arms.
Silently, Darius unfastened the broach that kept her fur cloak in place. It fell to the ground as he lifted her and carried her to the soft pile of sleeping furs.
He laid her down and stretched out beside her, gazing down into her eyes as if waiting for some further word or sign from her. She raised one hand to touch his cheek, glad that he wore no beard to hide his face. She had no other word to say but his name, and she whispered it softly as their lips finally touched.
His lips stayed on hers as his hands slid down her body. He raised the skirt of her gown until at last he reached her skin and began to stroke his fingers across her flesh, leaving trails of fire beneath his touch.
His kiss became gently insistent. With his tongue he parted her lips and teased the inside of her mouth, and his hands grew bolder on her body. He raised her gown farther until he was able to cup one full breast in his hand. Callestina felt herself moan softly with the sudden ecstasy of the touch and the taste of him.
Darius drew away as he pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside. She did not want to part from him for even that brief time. She lay there naked, bathed in the golden firelight and the warmth of his gaze.
“You are truly the goddess of love, lying there,” he said, his voice as caressing as his touch had been.
Goddess to his god, she thought, feeling that all the deities were within their union this night.
Darius removed the rest of his clothes also, then lay back down beside her. Once more he kissed her, but his lips only brushed hers briefly. They moved down her neck, slid across her collarbones, down farther still until they reached her breasts. His mouth closed on one nipple and suckled softly. He began to tease her with his tongue, moving his mouth to the other breast—back and forth until she was no longer aware of the furs on which sh
e was lying or the tent in which they rested. She felt nothing but Darius.
He did not stop with her breasts. Using his hands, his lips, his tongue, he explored the rest of her body, lingering across the soft plain of her stomach, the round fullness of her hips and thighs.
Finally, gently, Darius opened her legs. He brought his face down to that part of her no man had ever seen, ever touched, and kissed her there. With his tongue, he parted the soft golden curls and touched the sensitive flesh beneath them.
Callestina shivered at the touch. Her hands clutched at the sleeping furs beneath her as Darius’s tongue continued to bring her a pleasure she had never dreamed existed. She dwelt in a place without thought, without time, where all that she knew were the waves of fire and passion cresting through her body.
Still it was not enough. She wanted to discover, to know his body as he was knowing hers. Gently she pushed him away and onto his back, and she heard his soft chuckle as he rolled to oblige. For a brief second she wondered what to do, what would bring him pleasure. But her own body told her, for all the secrets of womanhood were within her and had waited until this moment to be unleashed.
She ran her fingers across the tautness of his muscles—neck, arms, stomach, all within her reach—and followed that touch with her lips. She buried her face in the hair on his chest, breathing in the scent of him. She moved her mouth to his nipples and heard his sharp intake of breath as they hardened beneath her tongue.
Gently now, her hand caressed that most male part of him, fingers trembling with wonder and anticipation. She bent her head and kissed him as he had kissed her. Once again she heard his soft gasp of pleasure. The sound emboldened her. She ran her tongue down the hard flesh beneath her lips, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin. Again, a shiver of anticipation raced through her as her body began to ache with the need for their joining.
Darius lay still for a moment as Callestina’s mouth continued to caress him. Then he gave a single moan that was harsh, almost savage in sound. He drew her up to him and. putting a strong arm around her waist, he rolled her onto her back. Callestina looked deeply into his eyes. She twined her fingers into his hair and pulled his lips to hers as she opened herself to him.
She felt none of the pain she had heard other women speak of when he entered her. He did not rush their joining. His movements were slow and controlled, filling her more and more deeply with each thrust of his hips. The fire that had smoldered like embers in her belly burst into flame. The heat of it filled her until she felt like a creature of fire.
Not losing the contact between them, Darius rolled her on top of him, guiding her now in the movements that brought her even greater pleasure. He sat up and raised his face once more to her breasts. Lips, teeth, tongue, he caressed them, never ceasing the slow, steady rhythm beneath her.
Callestina felt as if she teetered on the brink of oblivion, filled with sensation too intense for mortal being to bear. Darius had brought her there: now he kept her there. She could hear the little cries of pleasure she knew must be hers, but she had no more control over them than over the mounting waves of honeyed fire that tightened her muscles and arched her back.
Once more, Darius turned her beneath him; once more his body covered hers. His mouth was insistent now, demanding, as the rhythm of his body changed. His lips crushed hers. His tongue probed and filled her as his hips moved faster. Callestina wrapped her legs around his thighs. She raked his back with her fingers. Her hands moved to his buttocks, felt his power, his strength, and she raised her hips to meet him.
Again, her back arched. She passed the brink where she had teetered. A thousand lights exploded within her and carried her into another realm where the universe was filled with the union of their bodies. For a long, timeless moment she was held there; then, slowly, she floated back to the world that was.
Darius, too, was spent. He kissed her tenderly once, and moved his head to nuzzle her ear. Then he turned on his side and pulled her to him. She lay there contentedly, listening to his heart beat.
She knew this was only the beginning. She wanted him again. Tonight. Tomorrow.
Forever.
Chapter Fifteen
It became a time of wonder for Callestina. The days Darius spent with Alaric—planning their conquest of Italy and Rome or hunting in the nearby forest or seeing to the comfort of his people. But his nights were spent with her. His tent became a world within a world to her, the only place where she was truly alive.
The goddesses had not failed her, and at dawn after that first night, she had given them thanks.
Once, in the midst of their passion, Callestina had spoken of her love to Darius, but he had only laughed and kissed her, not returning the words Callestina longed to hear. It did not matter; the words would come. Darius, she knew, was her destiny.
The only dark spot to her joy was Grayson. He rarely spoke to her, and then with only the briefest words. Callestina knew his eyes often followed her with a look that wavered between hatred and desire. His presence was heavy and brooding and it was always a relief when she could leave his company.
But Callestina did not let her thoughts linger on Grayson. She had Darius. He filled her thoughts, her body, her world—her life. What did anyone else matter?
The weeks passed. Snow fell heavily upon the ground, covering the winter landscape with fairyland beauty. Trees of the surrounding forest bent beneath their frozen weight until, boughs breaking with a sudden crack that echoed through the countryside, they dropped their burdens into drifts that stood tall as a man.
But the camp had been chosen well. It stood on raised ground and was sheltered from the worst storm winds. There had been enough time now for semipermanent structures to be erected to give cover to the horses and livestock. Wood had been gathered and stockpiled, items of comfort added to family tents, and large communal fire pits dug.
Most important of all, the two armies were slowly merging into one. Old friendships were strengthened and new romances begun, babies were born and livestock traded. It was a good time, a time of family and community. During the long months ahead the leaders would be worrying about roads and passes, about messengers and tactics, as they planned routes and counted supplies. But the rest of the people would be mending old clothes and making new ones, sharpening weapons, repairing equipment, and looking to the hundred little things they had put off in the summer months just past.
For Darius, however, these winter months soon palled. He had little interest in the common life—it was only something that must be endured between battles—and Alaric, although a good fighter, a competent strategist, and certainly a beloved leader of his people, possessed a mind Darius quickly found to be pedestrian. In truth, Darius was bored most of the time—except at night, when Callestina came to him.
It was a day of bright winter sunshine, four weeks after Darius had arrived in Alaric’s camp. During the night another storm had passed, leaving a fresh wash of white across the landscape, but by morning the clouds had disappeared. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue and the slight breeze, although cold, smelled of mountain lakes and pine trees. Darius knew he could not remain bound to camp on such a day.
He saddled his horse, took three hunting spears from the communal stores, and headed for the forest. Perhaps a hunt would stave off his boredom. The excitement of the chase, of running a stag or a boar to ground, of watching its blood run crimson over the snow, would make him feel alive again. It would not be as good as a battle or, better yet, a Quickening—but then, nothing was, and the only other Immortals nearby were Grayson and Callestina. Darius had no desire, even in his boredom, to kill either of them. The former was both brother and son to him; the latter was the only spark of true pleasure amid the interminable wait of winter.
Darius had just passed beneath the shelter of the trees when he felt a presence behind him and heard the sound of hoof-beats. He did not need to turn to know that Grayson was joining him. Darius smiled and pulled his horse up to wait; Grays
on was probably more bored than he was.
A few seconds later, he heard the hoofbeats slow—and then Grayson was beside him. As always. At his right hand.
They said nothing as they began to walk their horses beneath the trees. There was no need for words between them. For nearly half a century they had been together and often it seemed they could read each other’s thoughts.
“How can you stand to spend each day in that man’s company?” Grayson asked, suddenly breaking the silence.
“Alaric?” Darius said. “He’s useful.”
“He’s a boor. He’s loud, he stinks, and he drinks too much.”
Darius chuckled. “All true,” he replied.
“He’s drunk so often, I’m surprised he has any head left for battle.”
“Ah, but he does. I have fought with him—as have you. You know what a formidable warrior he can be when the blood lust is upon him. Alaric is often a fool, that is true, but he is also a tool, and a useful one.”
“Why don’t we have done with these mortals, Darius?” Grayson asked, a slightly petulant quality to his voice. “You know what army I think we should raise. I still say you could do it.”
Darius laughed. “Come, Grayson, we’ve been through this before,” he said. “An army of Immortals—such a thing can never be.”
“Such a thing has never been” Grayson countered. “But you could do it, Darius. Men follow you willingly.”
“Mortals,” Darius replied. “Such men need a leader to follow. But our kind?” Darius shook his head.
“There is more than one game we play, my friend,” Darius continued. “In The Game between Immortals the rules are clear: In the end there can be only one. The game we play with mortals is much more subtle, for they do not even know such a game exists. Mortals are only tools, Grayson—never forget that—but like all tools, they must be carefully studied in order to wield them properly. Learn their strengths and their weaknesses. Properly handled, they will lay the world at your feet and think it is their own idea. But come now, this army is not truly what bothers you.”
Highlander: Shadow of Obsession Page 10