Gift of the Goddess

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Gift of the Goddess

ISBN # 1-4199-0629-1

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Gift of the Goddess Copyright© 2006 Denise Rossetti

Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication: September 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory:

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

G
IFT OF THE
G
ODDESS

Denise Rossetti

Denise Rossetti

Chapter One

Hssrda (sing. Hssrdan):

Hybrid race, saurian-human. Most authorities believe the Hssrda were created as slave-soldiers by the Firsters, using the magical craft referred to in the ancient texts as “gene-splicing”. (See Firsters—Magic) However, popular legend recalls a single individual, the so-called “Mad Mage”. (See Ballads, Traditional).

Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

There was a beautiful man below, bathing in the pool. Anje settled herself against the warm rock at her back and stared down into the sheltered valley. Mother be praised, there was nothing wrong with her eyes!

He’d sauntered out of a fancy tent, naked as the day he was born, and paused on a sun-baked rock for a luxurious, rib-twisting stretch. The action lifted his ribcage in an elegant sculpture that flowed from chest to flat belly to slim, strong thigh. With his fists held high over his head, she could even make out the soft patches of auburn hair tufting his armpits.

Then he’d plunged into the tawny mirror of the pool, creating ripples that lapped gently against the shallow banks.

When his head finally broke the water, his red-gold hair was wet copper, plastered to the strong shape of his skull. He huffed out a laugh, sporting like an acrobatic fish, and Anje’s lips curved with pleasure. Just a little longer, a very private indulgence. Then she’d do her duty and warn the idiot he was Hssrda-bait.

She studied the tethered vranee cropping contentedly at the underbrush, their feathered necks gleaming in the afternoon sun. Two sturdy pack-beasts and two stallions, one black, the other that turquoise under smoke color so prized throughout the Ten Nations. Either animal was worth more gold marks than she’d see in her lifetime.

The man stroking across the pool was a fool. She’d crossed the spoor of a Hssrda hunting party three days ago. Give the cold-blooded monsters one glimpse of such careless wealth and beauty and he’d be on an auction block before he could blink—shaved, bound and helpless.

Despite herself, she shivered.
Hssrda
.

Millennia ago, a dark mage had desired a race of slave-soldiers, so he’d tampered with the very stuff of life, twisting and forcing it to his own fell purpose. The mage was successful beyond his wildest dreams—or nightmares. As they climbed from the vat, his reptilian creations devoured him with relish, piece by screaming piece.

4 Gift of the Goddess

And now, thousands of years later, the Hssrda still feasted on human flesh and misery, so alien, so
other
, as to be beyond understanding.

Anje scanned a full circle, seeking with her scout’s senses. It was still, save for the jingle of harness and an occasional splash.

Such sheer exuberance was engaging. It had been a long time since she’d seen joy unabashed.

Three years to be precise.

Deklan used to laugh like that when she rode him hard, raking his skin with her nails, loving him, loving the brutal climaxes she wrung from him. She’d not met another man who pleased her so.

But Deklan was long gone, his throat a fountain of blood in the clawed fist of a Hssrdan. Swallowing hard, she put the hideous memory aside, replacing it with the delicious sight of taut, muscled buttocks, gleaming like ivory as the swimmer turned and dived. He emerged shaking the drops from his hair in a great plume of spray.

Anje leaned forward, her mouth watering, and the hard twist of old grief receded, like a scar settling soft and deep in her flesh. The breath drummed in her chest, ruching her nipples to needy points.

On the order of the Matriarchs, she’d been scouting three long months in the Empty Lands. Mother, how she longed for home! Her lips twisted. Not long now. She’d reached the final leg of her circuit, having learned more about the Hssrda than she’d ever wanted to know.

She had no time for dalliance, no matter how enticing the object.

But for now… Sweet Mother, just a glimpse, a taste of real man, of warm, hard cock to take with her to her solitary bedroll beside the campfire.

When he paused, treading water, and glanced back over his shoulder, her gaze followed his. A second man emerged from the tent. The breath left her in a gusty rush.

Mother have mercy!

Where the first man was lithe and compact, this one was a giant, as dark as his companion was fair, with black hair that fell to his shoulders, soft and straight as rain. He wore black leather trousers that clung to his body like a second skin. Even at this distance, Anje could see the snug way they molded his powerful thighs and the bulge of his groin.

His chest was massive, furred with dark curls, his shoulders the width of a temple door. As he strode to the water’s edge, Anje glued her eyes to the high, firm shape of his ass, the muscles shifting fluidly as he walked.

He stood on the projecting rock and reached down a hand as Red stroked to the edge to meet him. With no discernable effort, he grasped the other man’s forearm, hauling him out of the water and hard into his arms, the fair skin a piquant contrast to his bronzed chest.

Anje stifled a whimper.

5 Denise Rossetti

But the dark warrior merely steadied Red and said something she was too far away to hear. He swatted him on the rump and strolled back to the tent.

Red stood on his rock, a grin splitting his face. Still enjoying his private joke, he stretched out on his back and closed his eyes, turning his face up to the Sun and its Shadow. The light glinted gold on the fine hair on his chest. His cock lay quiescent, curving sweetly, nestled in coppery-brown curls.

Anje smoothed a hand over her aching breasts and pressed her thighs together. Gods, he was as lovely as a pleasure slave! Now if he’d only lie still long enough for her to fix his image in her mind. What a wonderful plaything this memory would be until she returned to Mother’s Hearth!

Then, oh then.

One hand snaked beneath her loose, mud-stained trousers. She’d hire the prettiest male in the Pleasure Quarter and demand he dye his hair red-gold.

All of it.

Red’s fingers strayed across his chest, over the ridged muscles of his stomach and down to his groin. Idly, he took hold of his cock in one hand and caressed it. Anje couldn’t drag her eyes away. Almost as though he felt the weight of her gaze, he rolled his hip toward her so her view was unobstructed. His fingers smoothed up and down and his cock stirred, swelling slowly, beautifully.

Red circled his palm over the broad head and it jerked against his belly. He pressed two fingers under the glans and worked the foreskin up and over. His eyes fluttered open and Anje thought his chest rose and fell in a sigh. The muscles in his throat corded. Languidly, he ran his palm down the full length and back up again.

She could see a shiver run over his skin. The sculpted muscles of his chest expanded as he dragged in a breath. Panting, she leaned forward.

Red grasped his cock firmly in one fist and began to pump in earnest. Gods, she wouldn’t be so rough with such a pretty toy. His head fell back and his eyes slid shut. A flush climbed from the level of his nipples up to his throat and cheeks. His brows drew together in concentration and his free hand clenched and opened, clenched and opened.

Beneath her grubby clothing, Anje smoothed trembling fingers over her belly and furrowed through her pubic hair until she found slick, hot flesh. She was so wet her thighs were smeared with her own juices. Swallowing a moan, she circled her fingertips over the swollen bead of her clit, pressing hard. Red was gasping now, his hips arching, buttocks hollowed with tension, his hand a moving blur.

Anje bit her lip, concentrating. Almost, almost… Together… Beads of sweat sprang up on her forehead, she didn’t need to look down to know her breasts would be flushed, the nipples stiff and distended.

What was that?

Something had moved on the periphery of her concentration. She froze, listening, extending all her senses. Yes, there…

6 Gift of the Goddess

Anje drifted back into the brush, abandoning her pleasure with no little regret. It was a sad truth that careless scouts led short lives of unbearable excitement.

When the attack came, it was from behind. She barely saw him coming, he moved so fast. She spun around, but before she could take another step, the bruising impact of a big body jolted the breath out of her.

A steel band circled her ribs, clamping her arm to her stomach and a hard hand clapped over her mouth. She was lifted clean her off her feet. The man grunted with satisfaction, his breath warm against her ear, and strode off down the slope as if she weighed less than nothing.

The shock of it held her immobile for an instant.

Mother strike her for her stupid lust!

More furious with herself than with her captor, she twisted her long, lithe body with the agility of a trained warrior, reaching for the knife strapped to her forearm. But the man merely grunted and jammed a brawny arm across her throat. Cursing, she dug her elbow into his midriff, but she might as well have assaulted a wall.