Gift of the Goddess (34 page)

The stone felt warm in her fingers. Inset around the figure’s spine and ribs were silver lines in a sinuous pattern that was very familiar. Anje’s heart stumbled and tingling rivers of sensation ran through the wings on her back. Fingers trembling, she set the little goddess back on the dresser.

“It’s an omen,” said Trey. “Lufra wants you to succeed.”

“Maybe.” Brin lounged back in the bed, a mound of pillows at his back. Like Trey, all he wore was a sarong knotted low at the hip. Anje had insisted on tying hers under her arms, despite Trey’s vocal disapproval. The shaman had said nothing. He held out a hand. “Scout?”

She put her hands behind her back, knowing she was being childish. Ah Mother, but she ached all over! Her neck and shoulders were one huge knot of tension and something deep inside her felt bruised and battered. She supposed it was her heart.

Brin stared into her eyes for so long, she grew uneasy. “What?” she demanded.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice so low it was no more than a half-heard rumble. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “This—” Springing to his feet, he strode to the window, giving her his back, his shoulders rigid. His fists bunched at his sides, all the tendons and veins in his arms standing proud.

“Fuck,” snarled Brin, who never swore. “Fuck.
Fuck!
” He rammed a fist into the wall and Anje jumped. Trey put a gentle hand on her shoulder and she subsided, her heart hammering.

The shaman spun around, dropping his shields, and she gasped aloud. The link was alive with his pain, the starkness of it a punch to the gut. “It’s tearing me apart. Gods, not even the Hssrda could devise a better torture. If you ran again…” He drew a breath. “I’d have to stop you. And…and I’m not sure I could.” His inky lashes swept down as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. “Even with the torque…I might be able to get it off.”

In the silence, she could hear the clink of a bucket, a vran whickering, a low buzz of voices. A vast hollow seemed to open up inside her.

“But it’s the future of your people,” she said. Holy Mother, she must be losing her mind! Trey’s question had set inside her, provoking as a pebble in her boot. “In your place—” she had to swallow hard before she could finish the sentence, “I’d do the same.”

177 Denise Rossetti

“The Feolin mean nothing to you. Lufra’s price costs me my honor.” Brin’s hand closed on hers so tightly, the bones creaked. His voice went very low. “But I swear to you, Anje, you’ll survive this. Whatever the cost.” He let her go.

She had to blink to hold back the foolish tears—she, a scout and a warrior! But the Mother knew he meant it, every word. She didn’t want to contemplate the sort of quixotic nobility he’d think was necessary.

Dropping her head, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. It couldn’t be so. It
couldn’t
! Surely, there must be a way out!

Sparks bloomed behind her eyes as she sank onto the bed.
Think, think!
She’d been so stupid, allowing panic to blind her. There was something she was missing, there had to be. “Do you truly believe Lufra chose me?” she asked, feeling her way.

“I could hardly miss it,” Brin growled. “She hasn’t exactly been subtle.”

“So if there’s a fault, it’s not yours, it’s Lufra’s.”

Next to her on the bed, Trey inhaled sharply. “Lufra can be stern, Anje, but She’s never unjust,” he said. “She wants the Feolin to be happy.”

“Just like the Mother. In fact…” She frowned, remembering the wooden figure in the niche. “Isn’t motherhood one of Her aspects?” When they nodded, she went on, “Why would She desire the death of Her favorite shaman, Her child?”

Excitement widened her eyes, made her heart falter and skip a beat. “Don’t you see?” The words tumbled out. “Trey got it. It’s a setup. She regrets the severity of Her punishment, but She can’t take it back. She’s a goddess, after all. She’s got a reputation to maintain.” The return of hope was so acute, it hurt. “So She’s arranged everything to give us the best possible chance. Lufra’s on our side!”

Trey stared at her in frank astonishment. Brin’s lips quirked and a few of the shadows left his eyes.

She faltered. “Maybe?”

“Anje, you’re amazing.” Brin shook his head and sank down next to her on the bed. “And I thought I understood the female mind. I don’t see it, but go ahead and believe if it helps.”

The beat of her blood was edgy, intense. She shifted, the mattress firm beneath her, the tight sheets polished and cool under her clenching fingers. “It’s still about trust,” she insisted, “but it’s not me, Brin—it’s your own goddess asking for a leap of faith.”

“Maybe you’re right and maybe you’re not. My soul’s been Lufra’s since I was a lad.” He took her hand and pressed his freshly-shaven cheek into the palm. His skin was warm and smooth. “But—” The breath hissed between his teeth. “I hate Her for this. What She’s done to you. Me.”

The words echoed in the airy space. Trey said, very softly, “Brin, don’t.” But the shaman shook his head and growled under his breath, his face dark with suppressed emotion.

178 Gift of the Goddess

“If I…left,” Anje went on, filling the awkward silence, “the Rite would be impossible, wouldn’t it?”

“I gave my word to the Queen and Council,” said Brin.

After a short pause, Trey said thoughtfully, “You could try Chelisand. Or one of her priestesses. It wouldn’t be a hardship. They’re all eminently fuckable. And highly trained.”

Anje snatched her hand back, the fingers crooking into claws. “I see.”

“It won’t work without you, scout.” Brin smiled painfully. “I’ve told you that. You’re Lufra’s Gift. And my heart.” Cradling her cheeks in his big hands, he stared deep into her eyes. “You have superb natural instincts and we know the Goddess favors you. But you’re not a puppet. Love or hate. Choose.”

“What do you mean?” Her brain still racing, she let him draw her into his lap.

Brin stroked her cheek. “You can perform the Rite with love in your heart or with hate. Guess which gives us the better chance, scout.”

Anje sat frozen. There was no doubt at all that she’d lost her reason. She knew what she was going to do.

What she always did.

Fight.

Fight for those she loved.

The shaman glanced at the other man, standing frowning by the dresser. “Trey?”

“Yes?”

“Will you come with us to Quaremel tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Trey sank his teeth into his lower lip. “I’m taking every minute I can get.” He sighed and desolation swam in his hazel eyes. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” Anje leaned forward to touch his hand. Their last night. The words hung heavily. Unspoken.

She glanced from one masculine face to the other, both equally tormented. For her.

Anje’s spine stiffened and a growl rumbled deep in her throat. What sort of warrior was she? Holy Mother, she
loved
them! They were
hers
and no slut goddess was going to hurt them!

Trey caught her fingers in his. “We haven’t…not since The Hollows…
please
, Anje.”

The Bond link throbbed with the shaman’s desire, bittersweet and poignant. Brin nibbled at the soft skin below her ear and goose bumps raced over her throat and down to her breasts. Her nipples stiffened, tingling in a maddening way. He murmured, “Tomorrow will take care of itself. Let’s not waste tonight.”

Anje shivered. “I don’t think I…”

“For Trey, scout. Do it for Trey.”

She cast him a scathing look. Love was one thing, forgiveness another. “And nothing for you?”

179 Denise Rossetti

A grin tugged at his mouth and the dimple flashed. “I won’t say it wouldn’t please me. Very much.” He grew serious again. “Anje,” he said softly. “I’m begging you. One last time. Make your choice now. For love.”

She stared at him in silence, remembering the powerful, enigmatic man who’d captured her in the Empty Lands and possessed her utterly. Now his soul was plain for her to read in his face, in the Bond link. Suddenly, and with absolute clarity, she saw the face of Zulie’s youngest, slack and rosy with sleep against her mother’s breast.

And her decision was made. Irrevocably.

“Yes,” she whispered, “but I’m…” She hesitated and tried to smile. “A little tense.”

Brin dragged in a breath so deep it expanded his massive chest to an alarming degree. Then he released it in a gusty sigh. “I can take care of that. Come here, Trey, and hold her hands.” The other man did as he was bid and the shaman slid his arms around her from behind and cupped her breasts in his warm palms.

He began a slow humming, deep in his throat, so low it was almost inaudible. It vibrated through his chest and set up a reverberation deep in her bones. The warmth of the Bond link washed over her, soothing, stroking, and her lashes fluttered down. The breath whispered out of her lungs. “That’s right,” the deep voice murmured, seemingly inside her skull. “Breathe, Anje. Breathe down to your soul.”

He held her there like that for what seemed like hours, or minutes, a time out of time, suspended in a crystal bubble. As the wordless chant deepened, he began to feather his thumbs over her nipples, working with the fabric of the sarong, forcing her to breathe to his slow, even rhythm. Trey bent to run his tongue over the delicate veins in her wrists. The sensation was not unlike floating in a warm bath, relaxed and unstrung.

When the first whimper forced its way out of her throat, he whispered, “Now is all there is, Anje. Say it.”

Slowly, a tingle began in her loins, the intimate folds swelling and pouting, ready for impalement, longing for it. She moistened her lips. “Are you a magician?” she husked.

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “No.” He tugged at her nipples, sending a delicious arrow of sensation directly to her clit. “I’m a shaman. Say the words, scout.”

“You’re right.” Anje twisted in his lap. The anger and the pain were still there, but now they were walled off in a part of her mind she was able to ignore. “Now is all we have. And it’s what I want.” She sank her fingers into the black silk of his hair and drew his head down for a long, incendiary kiss. Trey ran his hands up her calves with a murmur of pleasure.

Gently, Brin drew away. “Are we agreed then? Tonight is ours?” When the other two nodded, he leaned forward to rub his palm over the short, red-gold pelt on Trey’s head. “In that case, I say we give Trey the ride of his life.” He arched a brow in the other man’s direction.

Trey blew out a breath. “Will it involve pain?”

180 Gift of the Goddess

Brin’s dimple deepened and Anje shifted to accommodate the slow rise of his cock beneath her. When he shot Trey a glance full of menace and mischief, prickles of anticipation blossomed at the base of her spine. “No more than you can take,” he purred. “You game?”

“Yes,” said Trey curtly.

“You’ll give yourself over to me? Do it my way?”

A pause. “Yes.” It was a husky whisper.

Anje abandoned herself to her darker instincts. She walked two fingers over the bulge tenting Trey’s sarong. “Remember that night in The Hollows, Trey? You didn’t turn out to be a very good slave after all.”

He grinned and his cock twitched under her touch. “I’ll do better this time.”

She squeezed hard enough to make him grunt. “I’m sure you will.”

Brin gave a dry chuckle. When she glanced at him, hesitating, he nodded. “Keep going, scout, you’re doing fine.”

Trey’s lips compressed. “Both of you? What am I supposed to do if you want different things at the same time?”

Brin ran his palm down Trey’s body from his throat to the line of the sarong. He slipped his fingers under the knot. “If you value your pretty hide, you’ll work out a way to please us both.” He tugged and the sarong fell away. “Stand up.”

Slowly, Trey got to his feet. Anje stared, imprinting him on her memory. He was beautifully proportioned, all cream and silk and masculine fire. The short stubble of his regrowing hair exposed his forehead and hardened his jaw, making him look older, grimmer. His body hair was a shade lighter—except, of course, for his genitals where there was none at all. She sighed with pleasure and anticipation, watching his cock tremble with his rapid breath.

A flush rose up his throat and over his cheeks. “What about you? Why am I the only one…?” The words trailed away when he looked full into Brin’s eyes. “Gods, man, you’ll burn me alive.”

“I intend to.” Brin bared his teeth. “Walk over to the dresser. Slowly now.”

In complete silence, Trey did as he was bid, until he was standing with his back to them, his hands braced on the wood.

Brin hummed his appreciation. “Now that,” he said, “is the most biteable ass in the known world, except for yours, scout.”

Anje laughed, while honey slipped down the inside of her thigh. “The rest of him isn’t bad either.” Trey swore under his breath.

Brin said, “Patience is a virtue Trey’s never had. I think he should learn some.” Anje murmured her agreement. “But he has a fine imagination. You’re not to turn around, Trey, no matter what you hear, understand?”