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Goddess Summoning 4 - Goddess of the Rose.doc
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In his arms as the power of the goddess transported them to Hecate’s realm. He closed his eyes and leaned

against the tree. He had frightened her then, though he had not meant to. His awakening had been abrupt, and

the beast within him that seemed at constant war with his humanity had been too strong, too eager to capture

and possess. Remembering, his body shuddered and his heart ached.

He should go, retreat to his lair and prepare himself for tomorrow. He had long been absent from the Realm of

the Rose, and he could already tell that all was not as it should be. He must be diligent—focused—he must

resume guardianship of the realm as was his duty; and, if the goddess was merciful, he would also be allowed

to use all his magickal gifts again.

But he stayed.

When his keen hearing detected the light tread of her feet, he spoke a command in a language long dead, and

the lanterns that hung from the massive tree’s limbs instantly extinguished, wrapping him in shadow. Under

the thick ridge of his brow, his expressive eyes opened in time to see Floga rush into the temple. He paid little

heed to the Fire spirit though, or to any of the other handmaidens. Like a bewitching Siren, she commanded

his attention.

He watched her.

Her awkwardness was obvious to him, as he was certain it was to the handmaidens, too. They were

accustomed to an Empousa who moved with practiced confidence, who knew each ritual of the goddess so

well she could perform them as if it was as natural to her as breath and heartbeat.

This woman was different.

The handmaidens had to prompt her on how to cast the sacred circle. He saw her overcome her initial

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hesitation as she moved from element to element, calling Wind, Flame, Water, Earth, and Spirit alive again

within the goddess’s temple. Despite her inexperience, her power was evident in the tightly woven thread that

bound the circle together.

She danced.

His breath went thick. A low growl rumbled almost inaudibly in his throat. Lust surged, hot and insistent

through his body in time with the beat of his heart. His inhumanly keen eyesight became blessing and curse.

Because of it he could see the sweat-slickened flush of her naked skin as she moved in a seductive dance

around the circle. The nipple of her exposed breast was tightly puckered, elemental and alluring. He turned

his massive head away from the tempting sight, pressing his forehead into the rough skin of the oak until the

tips of his ebony horns rested against the tree. The betraying breeze flirted around him, once again bringing

him the scent of her—woman and roses, oil and spice, now heightened by the heat and sweat of her. He

snarled a curse, damning his preternatural senses.

Goddess help him, the longing was still there.

Why? He raised his hands. They became claws as razor-edged talons dug into the thick bark of the tree. Why

hadn’t his long imprisonment cured him of this terrible, futile desire?

He heard Hecate’s voice commanding the new Empousa to bind herself to the goddess with ritualistic words.

“Love and trust . . .”

She spoke the words, and the night took them and carried them to him so he felt the power of her oath fold

over his skin.

Why had she chosen those two words? For countless generations, Hecate’s Empousa had always chosen

words such as knowledge . . . power . . . beauty . . . strength . . . success . . . to bind herself to the goddess.

Yet to complete the self-initiation ritual, this Empousa had chosen love and trust.

The Guardian bared his teeth. What did a priestess know of love and trust! What did any mortal woman know

of such things!

He sensed the crowd approaching the temple and commanded more shadow and night to surround him. The

women of the realm could not see him as they passed the great oak, but they sensed his presence and averted

their eyes from the darkness that hid him, nervously making a wide path around the tree. When they shouted

with joy at the completion of the ritual and began to welcome her with song and dance, the Guardian felt as if

he had become a great island of misery amidst an ocean of rejoicing.

And still he could not stop himself from looking at her again. She was closing the circle. The changing light of

the goddess’s flame caressed her naked skin. Her body enticed him as she acknowledged each of the elements

and bid them depart. Without conscious thought, his claws tightened on the tree, slashing deep grooves into

the ancient bark.

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