Paladin (Graven Gods 1) (6 page)

Paladin had other plans.

“
Summer
,” he breathed in my ear, drawing me from the cool depths of sleep. “
Ah, Elder Gods, I almost lost you today
.” His voice sounded raw, strained with an unfamiliar note of retroactive fear. “
And I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t save you. If you weren’t so well-trained
…”

I opened my eyes to velvet darkness and the warm circle of his arms. The bed gave under his solid weight as he spooned me from behind, sheltering me in the curve of his big body. “
Paladin
?”

“
We’re in trouble, baby. Valak must have caught your scent during your little magical sleepwalking episode last night. He sent those bastards to find out if you really had the power he sensed
.” His voice dropped into a grim growl. “
And you proved you do. There’s going to be more trouble because of that
.”

I turned my head, frowning back at him in the dark. “
Why? Valak doesn’t even exist! I don’t understand
…”

“
You will
.” His arms tightened, pulling me close as if he thought something was going to take me away. “
That fucking spell needs to break, but you’re going to be pissed when it does
.”

“
What are you talking about
?”

“
Never mind. Summer, I have to have you. Now, before
…” he said, his voice low and fierce. “
Will you let me give you a dream
?”

“
But this is a dream
.”

Now amusement threaded his voice. “
Not like the one I’ve got in mind
.” His erection thrust against my bare ass, a thick demand.

I’d almost died today, and I wanted to live with him. “
Yes. God, yes. Please
…”

His arms tightened, and the bed fell away.

* * *

It was dark in the grove, the only light cast by the torches that stood driven into the ground around the combat circle. Beyond it, two hundred adults of the tribe waited, tense and silent in the dark. Eager to see if Paladin’s Heir deserved to inherit the god.

Only a few of our people were absent, protecting the tribe’s children back in our camp, lest the Valakans attempt a raid.

We had good reason for caution, for we were in a bitter war with the people of chaos. Our god-king, Paladin, had fallen in battle against Valak and his forces just the week before. We’d driven our foes from our territory, but the cost… Oh, Elder Gods, the cost…

I had to work to keep the grief from my face as I recalled seeking his body in the forest where we’d fought the enemy tribe. I’d felt him fall, known I must find him quickly. So I’d reached out with my magic as my warriors waited, seeking the god’s cool power. What would become of us if the enemy took the god’s torc before I found it again?

When the king died, I knew, the god had fled into the coil of bronze around his neck to wait for rescue. Paladin could not remain in a dead man, just as he could not survive without some material home. The torc had always been his magical shelter, making it a great prize indeed. Valak would be searching for it, eager to get his bloody hands on his enemy’s repository.

I was an avatar of Eris, goddess of birth and death. I could not fail to find Paladin’s torc. It would be a double blow to our tribe, for the god-king to fall and me to fail to recover him. It would be proof we were false gods.

Unworthy
.

My warriors would stretch me out on the great stones and cut out my heart, and I’d deserve no better. My death would free Eris to fly to some better host among our tribe.

But I’d not failed. The torc’s power had called to my magical senses, drawing me through the forest like the echo of tribal drums. We’d found the king surrounded by the hacked bodies of those he’d slain. And it seemed it had taken every one of them to kill him, for he’d died of many wounds.

Despite my grief, I felt pride. He’d been a great warrior.

As the fighters bowed their heads in respect, I’d pulled the torc from around his clay-cold throat. Tears streamed down my face as I cleaned the avatar’s blood from the coil of twisted bronze. Paladin’s power pulsed through my fingers even as I mourned. The God King had been a good leader for our people, and a kind, skilled lover.

That night, I’d joined the tribe in keening our grief around his pyre.

Now we would see if his Heir was fit to take up the torc and assume Paladin’s godhead, that he might lead us in battle as I led us in peace. Our children would bear our gods in their turn, and their children, down through all the generations. If the Heir passed his test. The Heir stood tall in the firelight, his body broad and plated with muscle. Swirls of woad painted his torso, patterns that flowed down his arms, his legs and the length of his heavy cock to swirl over his balls. The same spells marked my body, though mine glowed as his did not, indicating my goddess’ presence and power.

Opposite the Heir stood Dren, the tribe’s most powerful warrior, a burly man, muscular and experienced, dark-eyed and calculating. The Heir must defeat him to become the Avatar. Otherwise Dren who would wear the torc and become God King.

But I wanted the Heir. I had wanted him since the day our tribes met to trade bloodlines as our respective gods bargained. Of all the young hunters who’d competed for his attention, he was the one Paladin chose and named his Heir.

“
And he chose well
,” Eris assured me from the depths of my mind. Just as Paladin was the god of war and justice, she was the goddess of birth and death. And I was her avatar, her human host, her hands in battle and peace. “
Of all the candidates who vied for our attention, his intelligence, strength and magical power blazed the brightest. His bloodlines are fully a match for yours. Your children will be fit vessels indeed -- should he win
.”

And that was the question. If he didn’t defeat Dren, he’d become nothing more than a hunter again. I would never have him, for I must take Paladin’s Avatar as my mate. Breeding the next Heir was my duty, and duty came before desire.

I stepped out into the middle of the circle and raised my hands. A burst of will made my body’s sigils glow brighter. “Tonight our champions do battle. Tonight Paladin’s chosen Heir must prove himself worthy to lead the tribe in war against the forces of the chaos god.”

I looked at the Heir, who stood still and watchful in the torchlight. “Our God King chose you, but you must prove yourself worthy of his torc, to prove you can defend us against Valak’s tribe.”

The Heir bowed his head, torchlight painting gold over the contours of powerful arms and shoulders. Heat tightened the petals between my thighs, and the tips of my nipples hardened.

“I will not fail,” he said, and his eyes flashed up to meet mine with an impact I felt to the tips of my bare toes. “
I will have you
.” He did not say it aloud, but I read his determination in his eyes.

I wanted to let him know that I craved him as much, but I could not appear to favor him. So instead I turned to Dren. “As the tribe’s champion, it is your duty to test the Heir. You must ensure he deserves the torc, that he has the strength to enact Paladin’s will against our enemies. And should he fall to you, you will prove yourself the more deserving. You will then take up the torc and become the Avatar of Paladin. Do you accept this responsibility?”

He bowed his head more deeply than the Heir had. I was the tribe’s Goddess Queen, after all. “As you will it.” He gave the Heir a flat, fierce stare. He truly was the greatest of our warriors, save for the fallen God King himself, and that confidence blazed in his eyes. It was plain he believed he could defeat the Heir and take the torc -- and me -- for his own.

Tension tightened my gut. He was a bigger man than the Heir, with thick, powerful muscle from hunting prey and swinging a bronze axe in battle against the tribe’s enemies. And yet, though Dren was handsome enough, he did not make my blood run hot. He was my cousin, and I did not care to lie with him.

But that mattered not. The Heir would have to prove himself, and if he did not, I would go to Dren. Such was my duty. I turned and walked from the circle to seat myself on the rough arrangement of stones where I normally sat beside Paladin. Today only his torc lay there, glowing blue and bright.

“To win, you must either render your foe senseless or force him to yield. Do not kill him, for we cannot afford to lose a fighter to one of our own.” I looked at the two men and nodded. “Begin.”

With a roar, Dren charged, trying to take the Heir off guard with a swing of one huge fist. The Heir slipped aside, soundless and quick as a wolf. Even as he spun away, his fist plowed into Dren’s jaw.

The big warrior staggered back, shaking his head, then caught himself. He moved in, grim, intent, to pound vicious punches into the Heir’s ribs with such force I winced in sympathy.

The Heir made no sound as he whirled away. His eyes narrowed, his expression chilling into a hunter’s intensity.

They circled, hands out and ready to grapple or block, bare feet quick on the forest floor. Spinning around each other, they drove blows into thighs, shins, ribs. Anger built between them with each brutal exchange.

And still they fought, sweat rolling along gleaming skin and straining muscle. Beautiful in battle, impressive in their power and grace, they were also frightening in their vicious determination. I grew more and more tense, fearing for the Heir, despite my efforts to hold myself aloof.

I knew had I not ordered otherwise, they’d have killed for the torc and the god.

And me.

The Heir saw the opening he’d been looking for. Leaping high, he lashed out with a kick that caught Dren in the belly. The big man staggered back and fell to one knee. He fought to rise, but the Heir stepped behind him and pounced, his weight smashing Dren to the dirt. Snaking an arm around the bigger man’s throat, the Heir grabbed his own wrist with the other hand and clamped down hard. I heard Dren wheeze as the Heir’s powerful arms cut off his breathing.

He drove an elbow into the Heir’s gut, but those powerful arms did not loosen even a hair’s width. Face darkening, the hunter tried slamming his head back against his captor’s face. The Heir snapped his head aside, and Dren failed to break his nose.

Before he could try anything else, the Heir bore down even harder. Dren bucked furiously. The Heir hung on, merciless. Dren’s struggles slowed, until the big hunter finally went limp in the Heir’s arms.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if I should order him to stop before he cost us a fighter, he released Dren and surged to his feet. The tribe cheered. To my relief, Dren stirred after a moment, sucking in a harsh breath.

“
He’s fine
,” Eris said in my mind. “
The Heir knows what he’s about
.”

I gestured, and my people quieted. “Tend Dren,” I told those who served as my handmaidens. “He’s served the tribe well.”

Smiling, the women rose and moved to help the gasping Dren to his feet. As he staggered out of the circle, his gaze lifted to mine. I shook my head, and disappointment flooded his eyes as he realized he had lost his chance at the torc.

I waited until Dren had left the circle and our tribesmen had ceased to howl and clap. Rising, I lifted the torc in both hands, then walked slowly to the center of the circle.

The Heir watched me, a smile of triumph curving his handsome mouth even as he sank to his knees before me.

I paused, staring down into his face. “You have bested the greatest of our warriors with skill, strength and courage. You shall no longer be called Heir, but from henceforth be known as Paladin, god of justice.”

I closed the torc over his throat. The moment the metal touched his smooth, sweating flesh, it blazed so bright and blue I was momentarily blinded. Every hair stood up on the back of my neck from the nimbus of Paladin’s power flooding into the victor.

The Heir cried out as the god possessed him. His voice deepened into a roar, and once dark eyes blazed the same inhuman, piercing blue as the dead god king’s. A magical convulsion arched his body backward to slam against the dirt. The woad that swirled over his skin blazed from Paladin’s possession as he writhed, heels and fists drumming the bare ground.

At last he collapsed, panting as he stared with glowing eyes up at the star flecked sky. Silence fell as the crowd strained to hear his rasping whisper. “And I live again!”

Surging to his feet, Paladin threw his fists in the air, raising his voice into a roar. “Thanks to my brave goddess wife, who recovered my torc from the field of battle, I again stand before you!”

The tribe’s cheers shook the leaves over our heads. Paladin signaled, and they fell silent as he began to pace around the ring of them, meeting each one’s eyes. “I swear to lead you as I have for generations, god-king to Heir to god-king again. I will lead you to victory over the sons of chaos, and we will grind them into the mud beneath our feet.” His deep voice rose to a shout. “We are Paladin’s People, and we walk in justice!”

As the tribe shouted their joyous approval, he threw his arms wide, sending a wave of power foaming over the clearing. Where his magic touched, the men growled in sexual need.

At the same moment, I sent my own magic spilling, gathering the women’s desire and stoking it to burning. They cried out and turned toward their lovers.

This was why there were no children among us this night.

And now, Paladin shouted over their raised, eager voices as he pulled me into his arms. “Now I will get my Heir!”

“Yes!” I shouted as his hands gripped my thighs to lift me. I wrapped my legs around his hips and hooked one foot over the opposite ankle, arms coiling around his neck. His thick, hot cock pushed against my belly, a demanding testament to his lust. I circled my hips, relishing the wicked length and promise of it. “Ahhh, my king!”

So I clung to him, loving the feel of his body, hard and slick against mine. Gazing up into those glowing blue eyes, I saw the ancient power swirling in their depths. He smiled, sensual and slow.